Chapter 2 Ripped off

I have had a hard time focusing since Herald whispered sweet nothings in my ear. What I once considered the darkest part of my past was back with a vengeance. It started taking on a life of it’s own. More and more was coming to light and it’s ugliness is hard to accept. My past is something I would rather leave behind. Yet it is the very reason I loved my mistress alcohol. I have to examine my trauma to examine the causes and conditions of why I drank. 

My past resurfaces occasionally. Normally it is simply a reminder to be grateful. A moment to center myself, I’m safe and sober. But with Herald it was different. Something about Herald launched me backwards into my darkness. I went into a downward spiral. Grief morphed into depression and complete confusion. 

As the depths of the Church conspiracy is slowly unfolding, I feel like I’m I standing all alone. Everyday more of it is being exposed. What conspiracy? Church elders and leaders traumatizing me, denying it and actively protecting their self interests. That conspiracy.

With the Pennsylvania Catholic sex abuse scandal breaking, my story is just as twisted. The report is a sampling of my experience. Include summer away camps in Vermont with sick counselors and leaders and then you have a slight taste of the level if abuse I endured.

Not knowing who or what the report shows, I’m left feeling violated again. I told that to a spiritual guru. They suggested I look it up. I don’t have to research my story, I lived it.  

I know the complete truth will come out. It’s a matter of time. Truth follows me. It is a fruit of the Spirit. All the cover-ups in the world won’t shut me up again. I’ve been through the process before. It’s a scam. Both Catholics and Protestants alike hide instead of confess. Cover-up the ugly truth behind elders and hushed meetings. Now another church fiasco. Only this time, my safe space, AA, was tied into it.  

I’m telling my story as loud as i can in my softest voice ~ I loved wholeheartedly once, I can love like that again, someday soon…in the meantime I will have to heal and grow.

I decompensated after meeting Herald. Regressed as they say, I slipped into a deep depression. Actually, catatonic for a  few days. 

Yes my past trauma is that extensive. I came so close to my haunted house I screamed. His touch makes me furious. Still does. Why? The exact theological hypocrisy that got me raped continues. Delivered to my ear. By Herald and his grubby paws. 

Don’t touch me

I want to rip Herald’s balls off and shove them down his throat. How’s that feel Herald? Can you breathe ok? Feels good right. If only.

I want to question him and ask what his little message means. But before he can tell me who sent him, Paula arrives. Never found out which pastor was afraid I might hug them. Or was it their wife? Be careful, she hugs and might even pray with you too.  Instead I’m told to stay away from the men. Are you kidding me?

That’s what Herald’s slap left me with. Memories of powelessness and rape. What seemed like a strange conversation altered my reality. Who I thought were friends were simply slimy weasels. How my skin crawls still remembering Herald’s touch.

No one hugs a pastor, not for one second or one minute…still seared in my brain. You cowards. Send a sleazeball and a pervert to question me. 

Did I mention? The boys, or maybe their wives, were afraid of how Mary hugs and declares her love. Thought I was too friendly. Those teaching about love send a pervert to question me about theology. Then he threatens me. An insult to injury. Salt in my wounds as some say. Bullshit. I call Herald what he is: an ego driven skirt chasing bullshiter that those pastors sent specifically to deliver his twisted little speech.

Castration would suit the crime. No, how about I shun Herald. Right, that’s what they did to me. Not an option, seeing as Church supports him. I’ll just write Herald’s supporters until he has a nervous breakdown. That’s not Christian. Bullshit. Read your Bible boys. I’m not that powerful… remember? I have no earthly authority. But I do have the power of free speech. Fuck you Herald. His touch pushed my so close to a drink I could taste it. The grace of God saves me. Washes Herald’s slimy touch away.

What I have you lack. You pray for wisdom, yet you deny unity. I bring things together. That’s what Christians do. I also have a heart and a spine. I have a conscience and a soul. My touch heals. Your grubby paws left mental anguish and emotional trauma behind. 

You Pastor, I one who claims to practice spiritual principles.  Go fuck yourself. Lawyers and bean counters running Church. You violated my sanctity and you know it. You hide behind your insurance company.

And they accuse me of cyber bullying. If you knew what those cowards put me through, you would arrest them.

Another fun component to the saga~

Back in 2016, just after lunch with my good friend Herald, I called 911. It was late spring I think. I found another note. It was stuffed in my journal. Police came, thought I was just some crazy housewife. Guess what? That note was real. I still have it. The 911 call was real. Meeting Herald was real. Herald whispering in my ear and grabbing my hand was real. Those cowardly pastors are real. And very, very dangerous.

In the fall of 2018 the police issued a no trespassing order against me for saying I hate New England Chapel elders and founders. I called and called and called. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Bonnie Nicholas ignored all my requests. Finally, one day I called and freaked out on their message machine. Screaming how I hate the founders of New England Chapel and their hypocrisy. I hate the founders and elders hide behind institution after claiming authenticity. I want to rip your empire to shreds.

So, in the meantime I’ll slowly tell all my juicy tidbits. Piece by piece I will dissect my account for all to see. No sweet dreams for my lovely. Why? The truth of what you did is as ugly as rape. No peace for either of us. 

Why? Your silence broke my illusions. Now I see your falsehood clearly, I’m in hell. A ball-less clueless cruel coward. I never knew. I called a group of cowards friends. I considered those assholes trustworthy. I’m a fool.

This is what trauma patients do. Beat themselves up for another’s cold hearted behavior. Christian. Where? Right here. Standing still. 

After decades I finally entered trauma treatment. Guess what little miss Mary learned? I’m doing the right thing. Cowards and weasels hide. Dialectic Behavioral Therapy the experts call it. Doing the next right thing is what I call it. Recognizing toxic shame and getting rid of it. Herald you are toxic. I want everyone to know: Herald shamed and accosted a rape victim, thereby retraumatizing her. Now they deny wrongdoing. Don’t know what I’m talking about. Frauds and hypocrites, protected by New England Chapel. 

Tell me congregation do you know what you protect? Do you know where your money goes? Do you know what your founders did to me? Mike and Chris and little boo boo…no? Let me tell you.

January 2016 I emailed a friend asking to speak. He said he was busy, so we made an appointment for the following week. That conversation was about as helpful as a turd in a punch bowl. Guess what my friend Chris said in the end: church people are weird Mary. Gee thanks there Einstein. I asked if he believes in the new Jerusalem. He snarled sarcastically stating yes. Yet he didn’t. Maybe now he does.

Later I asked to meet with both Mike and Chris,  I met with them both in February 2016. Chris was ignoring my need to be heard. In that meeting I delivered the message I had received from God: now is the time for conversion. Great suffering is at hand, followed by the reign of God. Here’s the problem. Their definition of conversion is twisted. 

I’m not here to convert anyone. I’m here to deliver truth. My truth is conversion itself. God sent me to deliver a message to New England Chapel. I did. They rejected me. Shocking? No. The shocking part is how they treated me. Who I thought were Christian’s had no faith. Who I thought were friends had no heart.

Everything went to shit after that. The men’s group harassed me in AA meetings. Then my lunch with Paula. Then meeting the lovely and charming Herald the horrible Sketcher.

Did I tell you? After Herald sketched me his version of church covering it’s bride, he showed me his sketch of him and his sage. Said their kiss is on his mind still. 

Mike and Chris protect Herald. Claiming they did nothing wrong. Freaking egotistical a-holes. I want to take that Gucci scarf and choke Herald with it. Hey Chris…who is Herald? Guess what Chris said…yup he doesn’t know. Lied right to my face. 

Herald I found out is wealthy. Scared of me. Still don’t know for sure, but I think he’s Jr’s dad. Gross. Puke. No wonder. Scumbag.

…still writing

Still have PTSD

Still have bipolar

Still don’t know who Herald is and who sent him

This is do know: that little chapel that calls itself authentic is so freaking twisted it is terrifying. Hell on Earth. Created by ego run wild. Ran me over, shot me too.

It has taken over 3 years for me to start to feel safe again. I don’t completely feel free. That AA men’s group was so angry with my story. Why? I told the truth. The truth is church is important and it ignores it’s very children. It beats, rapes, violates and tortures innocence. Then says forgive. Well guess what? Part of forgiving is telling the truth. I’m screaming mine at the top of my lungs. Stop ignoring women and children in desperate need of help. Claiming authenticity.

From April 2016 to now I have yet to know who Herald is. While I heal, I pray and look at myself. I also act in kindness. But I’m not silent anymore. Want to hear what the nuns think a good response to church wrongdoing is? Silence. That what the local nuns convinced me of for 2 years. Twisted.

They are a critical element in my nervous breakdown as well. In April 2016 I went to the local Abbey seeking refuge from my wounds. A spiritual place of healing. Instead of refuge, I received teasing. A 
broken hurting woman who needed loving care was told to be quiet and forgive. Dah. Of course I have to forgive, I’m Christian. I also correct wrongdoing. What that church and those men and women did was wrong. Guess what the local priest’s response was? We all make mistakes. Be merciful.

Mistakes are one thing. But intentional wrongdoing? That needs attention called to it. I will. Send me, Lord. I’ll tell my story from start to finish.

I was born perfect in the eyes of God. This world and it’s institutions corrupted my innocence. My family showed me honesty saves my sorry butt. Church needs to change. Big changes. Revolutionary. Biblical proportions big. Listen you who have ears. Church officials better step up soon.

What does one do with a message from God about changing church? Bring it to church I assumed. I was wrong. They don’t want to hearI have had a hard time focusing since Herald whispered sweet nothings in my ear. What I once considered the darkest part of my past was back with a vengeance. It started taking on a life of it’s own. More and more was coming to light and it’s ugliness is hard to accept. My past is something I would rather leave behind. Yet it is the very reason I loved my mistress alcohol. I have to examine my trauma to examine the causes and conditions of why I drank.

My past resurfaces occasionally. Normally it is simply a reminder to be grateful. A moment to center myself, I’m safe and sober. But with Herald it was different. Something about Herald launched me backwards into my darkness. I went into a downward spiral. Grief morphed into depression and complete confusion.
As the depths of the Church conspiracy is slowly unfolding, I feel like I’m I standing all alone. Everyday more of it is being exposed. What conspiracy? Church elders and leaders traumatizing me, denying it and actively protecting their self interests. That conspiracy.
With the Pennsylvania Catholic sex abuse scandal breaking, my story is just as twisted. The report is a sampling of my experience. Include summer away camps in Vermont with sick counselors and leaders and then you have a slight taste of the level if abuse I endured.
Not knowing who or what the report shows, I’m left feeling violated again. I told that to a spiritual guru. They suggested I look it up. I don’t have to research my story, I lived it.
I know the complete truth will come out. It’s a matter of time. Truth follows me. It is a fruit of the Spirit. All the cover-ups in the world won’t shut me up again. I’ve been through the process before. It’s a scam. Both Catholics and Protestants alike hide instead of confess. Cover-up the ugly truth behind elders and hushed meetings. Now another church fiasco. Only this time, my safe space, AA, was tied into it.
I’m telling my story as loud as i can in my softest voice ~ I loved wholeheartedly once, I can love like that again, someday soon…in the meantime I will have to heal and grow.
I decompensated after meeting Herald. Regressed as they say, I slipped into a deep depression. Actually, catatonic for a few days.
Yes my past trauma is that extensive. I came so close to my haunted house I screamed. His touch makes me furious. Still does. Why? The exact theological hypocrisy that got me raped continues. Delivered to my ear. By Herald and his grubby paws.
Don’t touch me
I want to rip Herald’s balls off and shove them down his throat. How’s that feel Herald? Can you breathe ok? Feels good right. If only.
I want to question him and ask what his little message means. But before he can tell me who sent him, Paula arrives. Never found out which pastor was afraid I might hug them. Or was it their wife? Be careful, she hugs and might even pray with you too. Instead I’m told to stay away from the men. Are you kidding me?
That’s what Herald’s slap left me with. Memories of powelessness and rape. What seemed like a strange conversation altered my reality. Who I thought were friends were simply slimy weasels. How my skin crawls still remembering Herald’s touch.
No one hugs a pastor, not for one second or one minute…still seared in my brain. You cowards. Send a sleazeball and a pervert to question me.
Did I mention? The boys, or maybe their wives, were afraid of how Mary hugs and declares her love. Thought I was too friendly. Those teaching about love send a pervert to question me about theology. Then he threatens me. An insult to injury. Salt in my wounds as some say. Bullshit. I call Herald what he is: an ego driven skirt chasing bullshiter that those pastors sent specifically to deliver his twisted little speech.
Castration would suit the crime. No, how about I shun Herald. Right, that’s what they did to me. Not an option, seeing as Church supports him. I’ll just write Herald’s supporters until he has a nervous breakdown. That’s not Christian. Bullshit. Read your Bible boys. I’m not that powerful… remember? I have no earthly authority. But I do have the power of free speech. Fuck you Herald. His touch pushed my so close to a drink I could taste it. The grace of God saves me. Washes Herald’s slimy touch away.
What I have you lack. You pray for wisdom, yet you deny unity. I bring things together. That’s what Christians do. I also have a heart and a spine. I have a conscience and a soul. My touch heals. Your grubby paws left mental anguish and emotional trauma behind.
You Pastor, I one who claims to practice spiritual principles. Go fuck yourself. Lawyers and bean counters running Church. You violated my sanctity and you know it. You hide behind your insurance company.
And they accuse me of cyber bullying. If you knew what those cowards put me through, you would arrest them.
Another fun component to the saga~
Back in 2016, just after lunch with my good friend Herald, I called 911. It was late spring I think. I found another note. It was stuffed in my journal. Police came, thought I was just some crazy housewife. Guess what? That note was real. I still have it. The 911 call was real. Meeting Herald was real. Herald whispering in my ear and grabbing my hand was real. Those cowardly pastors are real. And very, very dangerous.
In the fall of 2018 the police issued a no trespassing order against me for saying I hate New England Chapel elders and founders. I called and called and called. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Bonnie Nicholas ignored all my requests. Finally, one day I called and freaked out on their message machine. Screaming how I hate the founders of New England Chapel and their hypocrisy. I hate the founders and elders hide behind institution after claiming authenticity. I want to rip your empire to shreds.
So, in the meantime I’ll slowly tell all my juicy tidbits. Piece by piece I will dissect my account for all to see. No sweet dreams for my lovely. Why? The truth of what you did is as ugly as rape. No peace for either of us.
Why? Your silence broke my illusions. Now I see your falsehood clearly, I’m in hell. A ball-less clueless cruel coward. I never knew. I called a group of cowards friends. I considered those assholes trustworthy. I’m a fool.
This is what trauma patients do. Beat themselves up for another’s cold hearted behavior. Christian. Where? Right here. Standing still.
After decades I finally entered trauma treatment. Guess what little miss Mary learned? I’m doing the right thing. Cowards and weasels hide. Dialectic Behavioral Therapy the experts call it. Doing the next right thing is what I call it. Recognizing toxic shame and getting rid of it. Herald you are toxic. I want everyone to know: Herald shamed and accosted a rape victim, thereby retraumatizing her. Now they deny wrongdoing. Don’t know what I’m talking about. Frauds and hypocrites, protected by New England Chapel.
Tell me congregation do you know what you protect? Do you know where your money goes? Do you know what your founders did to me? Mike and Chris and little boo boo…no? Let me tell you.

January 2016 I emailed a friend asking to speak. He said he was busy, so we made an appointment for the following week. That conversation was about as helpful as a turd in a punch bowl. Guess what my friend Chris said in the end: church people are weird Mary. Gee thanks there Einstein. I asked if he believes in the new Jerusalem. He snarled sarcastically stating yes. Yet he didn’t. Maybe now he does.
Later I asked to meet with both Mike and Chris, I met with them both in February 2016. Chris was ignoring my need to be heard. In that meeting I delivered the message I had received from God: now is the time for conversion. Great suffering is at hand, followed by the reign of God. Here’s the problem. Their definition of conversion is twisted.
I’m not here to convert anyone. I’m here to deliver truth. My truth is conversion itself. God sent me to deliver a message to New England Chapel. I did. They rejected me. Shocking? No. The shocking part is how they treated me. Who I thought were Christian’s had no faith. Who I thought were friends had no heart.
Everything went to shit after that. The men’s group harassed me in AA meetings. Then my lunch with Paula. Then meeting the lovely and charming Herald the horrible Sketcher.
Did I tell you? After Herald sketched me his version of church covering it’s bride, he showed me his sketch of him and his sage. Said their kiss is on his mind still.
Mike and Chris protect Herald. Claiming they did nothing wrong. Freaking egotistical a-holes. I want to take that Gucci scarf and choke Herald with it. Hey Chris…who is Herald? Guess what Chris said…yup he doesn’t know. Lied right to my face.
Herald I found out is wealthy. Scared of me. Still don’t know for sure, but I think he’s Jr’s dad. Gross. Puke. No wonder. Scumbag.
…still writing
Still have PTSD
Still have bipolar
Still don’t know who Herald is and who sent him
This is do know: that little chapel that calls itself authentic is so freaking twisted it is terrifying. Hell on Earth. Created by ego run wild. Ran me over, shot me too.
It has taken over 3 years for me to start to feel safe again. I don’t completely feel free. That AA men’s group was so angry with my story. Why? I told the truth. The truth is church is important and it ignores it’s very children. It beats, rapes, violates and tortures innocence. Then says forgive. Well guess what? Part of forgiving is telling the truth. I’m screaming mine at the top of my lungs. Stop ignoring women and children in desperate need of help. Claiming authenticity.
From April 2016 to now I have yet to know who Herald is. While I heal, I pray and look at myself. I also act in kindness. But I’m not silent anymore. Want to hear what the nuns think a good response to church wrongdoing is? Silence. That what the local nuns convinced me of for 2 years. Twisted.
They are a critical element in my nervous breakdown as well. In April 2016 I went to the local Abbey seeking refuge from my wounds. A spiritual place of healing. Instead of refuge, I received teasing. A
broken hurting woman who needed loving care was told to be quiet and forgive. Dah. Of course I have to forgive, I’m Christian. I also correct wrongdoing. What that church and those men and women did was wrong. Guess what the local priest’s response was? We all make mistakes. Be merciful.
Mistakes are one thing. But intentional wrongdoing? That needs attention called to it. I will. Send me, Lord. I’ll tell my story from start to finish.
I was born perfect in the eyes of God. This world and it’s institutions corrupted my innocence. My family showed me honesty saves my sorry butt. Church needs to change. Big changes. Revolutionary. Biblical proportions big. Listen you who have ears. Church officials better step up soon.
What does one do with a message from God about changing church? Bring it to church I assumed. I was wrong. They don’t want to hear it.
Ttyl
Pieces of me it.

Ttyl

Pieces of me

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