I can't believe I am posting.

[John Tavner]

What being possess was like for me

Being possessed and being crazy appears to me to be fairly similar to having Alzheimer’s. My mother is suffering from Alzheimer’s/Dementia and although I don’t live near her and don’t see her often, the few times that I have witnessed her behavior I have felt a strong similarity with what I felt and how I acted. If you have been around people with Alzheimer’s/Dementia you will know that at some points in time they are completely cognizant of their surroundings and what is going on around them; they act like themselves. Sometimes they have no idea who they are and what is going on, but they are calm. Other times, they are certain truly bizarre things are happening and are quite agitated. (For instance, one day my mother insisted on standing outside in the snowy cold for quite some time before my sister could convince her that the house was not on fire and it was safe to come inside.) You just aren’t sure from moment to moment how they will be acting.

In my opinion, I was possessed for two or three days and that when the devil’s left (were successfully cast out) they left behind as much damage to my brain as they possibly could and then I was “crazy.” Although I was possessed, there were times that I was completely normal, but I couldn’t exert enough force to remain in a normal state. During the time that I was possessed, the devil used my own voice to talk to me. I felt as if there was a large “chamber” inside of me that had been activated. This “chamber” had somehow come with me at birth and was full of all the word’s that the devil wanted to say to me, and that I couldn’t do anything to stop the words from coming out, just like you can’t stop the air from coming out of a balloon with a pin-prick hole. You might slow it down here or there with different efforts, but it is coming out.

One of the first things I remember the devil telling me was that I was “25 years late.” He had been expecting me evidently, but I was off schedule, at least in his opinion. (Maybe he just misunderstood God’s timing.) At any rate, he belittled me for my efforts and being late. He also stated that Jesus had been late. I believe that it was in this same “conversation” that he belittled me for needing help. He said something like, “You are weak and insignificant, just like Him. You need help from others, just like He did. He would not have succeeded if Father had not helped Him!” I took that to mean that the devil doesn’t’ think much of the Savior and thinks the Savior should have been able to do things on his own without help from anyone including His Father in Heaven.

I am not sure if I had thought much about Christ needing help before this incidence. I have thought about it a fair amount since. The role He played was so hard, that even as a half-god, He could not accomplish it without help. He needed a lot of help. How much interaction He had with Heavenly Father directly is not given us to know, but we do know that until that moment on the cross when Heavenly Father withdrew His presence, Jesus had never been without that connection to His Father. We know that he received instructions throughout His life that helped Him understand His mission and purpose and helped Him to prepare to fulfill His role. We also know that He had angelic visitations to strengthen Him during His time in Gethsemane. I would imagine that He had multitudes praying for Him and the successful completion of His mission. I expect that since He was the only one capable of fulfilling His mission, many of the people who helped Him to be successful were “below His station,” but He did not turn away their help. I believe that the devil spoke the truth that Jesus did need help to complete His mission; He could not have done it alone. I don’t agree with the devil that it was a bad thing for Him to have needed help; I don’t believe that it proves He was weak and less than He should have been. I don’t believe that we should look down on the Savior for needing and accepting help. I think we should emulate Him. We should be more willing to accept that this life is hard, the missions that we have been given are hard, if not impossible, and we should admit that we need help not only from Heavenly Father, Jesus Chris, and the Holy Ghost, but from our fellow human beings as well. We should not beat ourselves up for needing help. We should have more an attitude of “Even the Savior Himself needed help from others; Am I greater than He?” Also, we should not look down on others for needing help and be more willing to help others along their path. (Of course, there is still some balance and moderation to be found as in all things. You have to do your part and put in your personal effort, but you need to give help to others and receive help from others as well in order to be successful at accomplishing your life’s mission.)

Another thing that is very common to “going crazy” is “delusions of grandeur.” I experienced this a bit before going crazy, as I really thought God was using me to do a great work to prepare for the Second Coming. I believe that it was in this same “conversation” with the devil that I have been discussing that he told me that I am “The Daughter of Eve of the Morning of the First Resurrection.” (This is not a station that I had ever heard or previously. I have never heard any scriptural evidence for such a station. But, at least you can rest easy that I am not vying for the position of “Savior” or “Davidic Servant.” ). It was for my duties in this regard that I was 25 years late. Something to do with pulling out the “pegs” so things would get rolling along towards everything falling completely apart and the Second Coming getting underway. Somehow I was to cause or did cause the transition from the one period of time to the other. I believe further explanation of this will fit better in a different portion of my story.

In another “conversation” with the devil, he told me that he was Heavenly Father. (He actually tried to convince me of this in several different ways in several different “conversations.”) He told me that he was upset with how the world was going, that we are completely failing to come together to create Zion. He told me that he was going to destroy the world, just blow it up, and then reset it, to see if he could get it to finally “work out.” He was lonely and just wanted to have his family back. The idea that came with this was that he didn’t have to go back to square one and wait for billions of people to be born, that he could just blow it up, reshuffle the people giving them new memories and assignments and see if that change made the difference in the outcome. It sounded like he had done this multiple times in the past, but the way it works for at least for us humans, is that we don’t know anything happened.

Another thing that he told me was that it was “my privilege” to be his wife when this life is all over. Even when I thought there was a chance that he was really Heavenly Father, that idea didn’t appeal to me. So, I told him that I didn’t want to be his wife. He then informed me that actually, I already was his wife; that I had come to this earth a million times already to try to earn my escape from him because I hate him so much. He told me that I had tried a million times and failed a million times. He told me that I would be stuck as his wife for eternity; that I would fail again this time to break free.

In another “conversation” when he was pretending to be Heavenly Father, he told me that I was responsible for bringing Satan to earth. That he had been hidden inside of me and not really here on earth up until this time. This “conversation” is a bit more convoluted and hard to grasp than some of the others. At any rate, he was God, but he had had to lie just one time. He had lied to me to get me to wherever I needed to be to get the devil put inside me before I was born and then he had bound up my mouth, nose, ears, etc so there was no way Satan could get out ahead of schedule. I guess this was why I had Satan inside of me at the moment and he could use my voice to talk to me; he had been there my entire life waiting. At any rate, it was all for the best in his opinion that he had lied to me, and didn’t I think that in the end if things work out well that it was OK for him, as God, to have just told one lie? Did he have to cease to be God just over that one little lie to one person?

Satan would talk to me for a bit and then leave me alone for a time to think through things and decide on my response. When he left me alone, I would lean more toward normal for a time while I pondered over the things he had said. As soon as I decided that I saw the way through his lies, he would try another story or tactic. Honestly, it took me a while to work through this one and come to the realization that in the end, one lie is too many for God to tell. My first instinct was I could “take one for the team” if it meant all would work out well in the end; that I could forgive God for one lie that was told just to me. But over a few hours time I did come to the conclusion that if he really had been Heavenly Father and told me a lie that he had fallen and had ceased to be God; that it is impossible to tell such a lie to just one person as the entire act was intended to deception toward the entire human race. (As a side note: my opinion (as someone with experience but not expertise) is that Emily is going through a similar experience. I believe that she was/is possessed. I do believe that she fought and won a great victory, probably many over the years, but that the devil doesn’t give up nor play fair; he just changes the story and the tactics. It will just take time before she can comprehend the flaws, break free, and gain victory over the current assault. I attest to the fact that things seem way more plausible and make way more sense to you when you are under spiritual attack and/or are crazy; the same way that dreams make way more sense when you are having them than after you wake up. My opinion is that it is very hard to determine what is really happening and reality (true) verses what is really happening and false (a lie). But the strange things you are experiencing really are happening to you.)

Yet another “conversation” with the devil was about numbers. If I had written this about 7 years ago rather than waiting to write it now, I probably could have explained it to you, but now I cannot remember how he meant to overpower and confuse me with numbers. I just remember he spouted some number “a bunch of words I had never heard before” and after a bit of thought I spouted back some number “a bunch of words probably similar to what he had used but in a different order” and said something like “You can’t catch me by lying about numbers, I have always been better with numbers than you.” I will find it quite interesting in the next life if I am actually really good with numbers. (My degree is in Math Education and I was often the high grade in my classes, but I still count on my fingers.) I will also be interested to find out if any of the words used in this exchange actually had anything to do with numbers at all. (I expect there is some recording of the event that I can look back on for reference after I am dead. Then again, it might flash by so quickly even though I get to see it, I won’t have time to compute it and make sense out of it then either.)

In another “conversation” Satan told me that I had not actually qualified to come to earth because I was way too _________. I am not really sure what it was but something along the lines of arrogant and prideful I believe. I am not exactly sure how I snuck past God and got here or why he decided to “let me have a go at it” even though I was not qualified to come. But I felt convicted that it was probably true that I was way too whatever the exact word was; that I had felt, at least in part, like I could come to my own rescue and be my own savior and not have to depend on Christ. (I expect that is a common flaw in most of us to one extent or another.)

Another “conversation” revolved around names. He told me some evil sounding/feeling combinations of words was who I am, and another evil sounding/feeling combination of words was my husband, another was my oldest son, another my middle son, and another my daughter. I’m sure it scared me a bit, but I came to the conclusion that if that is who we are and that we really have that many evil tendencies within ourselves, that I could still accept myself and my family, and rely on Jesus Christ to help us change into better people. Not too long after I made that decision, he strung the 5 phrases together into one long name and told me that it was his name. Anyway, I told him not one of those words had even an ounce of good feeling in them, so they could not be the name of God. He then told me that he was God, and that I had committed the unpardonable sin of saying his name out loud (as he had used my voice to say the phrases). I think we are all a bit confused on exactly what is needed to constitute committing the unpardonable sin, but it didn’t make sense to me that it would be “knowing and stating the name of God out loud” especially if it was God Himself telling me the name and using my voice to say it. At any rate, he told me that I had committed the unpardonable sin and had to die in consequence of it.

He told me at least 5 or 6 times that I had to die, right now, this instant. Once he said, “Go tell your children you love them, and then go lie on your bed, because you are going to die.” So, I went and told my two children that were home that I loved them and went and lay down on my bed. He said, “Ok, now you are going to die.” I closed my eyes for a time, but didn’t die. A different time, I was sitting up on the floor, and he said “You have to die.” I fell backward on the ground with my eyes closed, but then opened them right back up. I believe that what I was supposed to learn from this is that Satan doesn’t have the power to end lives, but he wants you to think he does. (Sometimes, I wonder if I did die each time, but just woke up in a slightly different version of reality; my consciousness just shifting to a different me.)

When I didn’t believe stating the name of God out loud would be the unpardonable sin, he told me that praying to Jesus, instead of Heavenly Father, was the unpardonable sin. It is not that I had begun to pray to Jesus (I never said “Dear Jesus,” in place of “Dear Heavenly Father,” but I had started many different prayers during the previous month(s) while looking at a picture of Jesus. I would look at Jesus and ponder and ask for help and forgiveness, and wish for Him to come soon, etc and at some point it would turn to a real prayer instead of just a “wish of the heart” and I would say “In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.” (At one time I had felt that we should say our prayers to the “Godhead” and not to just one member of it, so I did start some prayers “Dear Godhead” which I was also told was very wrong to do. I am inclined to believe that this was more off base than saying a prayer while looking at a picture of Jesus. I do wonder if this is what made me vulnerable to the spiritual attack.)

At any rate, this “conversation” with the devil caused me a lot of mental stress for many months/years. Had I been wrong to be conflating yearning for Jesus while looking at His picture with praying to Heavenly Father? One thought that I considered is “If Jesus is supposed to be in the exact image as His Father, then how could I know if I was looking at a picture of Jesus or a picture of Heavenly Father?” And although I believe that is true, that they look alike, I knew my intent had been to look to Jesus, and looking to Jesus brought me to prayer. I have not come to a solid conclusion on this issue, other than that it is not the unpardonable sin to pray to Jesus. I became very worried for a time about different songs in the Hymn Book that are clearly written to Jesus instead of Heavenly Father. I was quite certain that we needed to rework the Hymn Book and make sure that every hymn is written to Heavenly Father, so that we would not inadvertently sin by praying to Jesus while we are singing our hymns. At one point I had thought maybe this is why we are getting a new hymn book. Now I wonder, “Are we every really going to get a new Hymn Book?”

Related to this issue at one point I asked my daughter to sing hymns with me. I noticed that she sang different words at some places in the songs than I would. At the time I believed that somehow it had been given to her to know the real words (proper words) that should be in the hymn so that it wouldn’t inadvertently teach false doctrine and/or pray to Jesus. I would stop her and ask her what word she had said, because I wanted to remember how the hymns should be changed. She was usually of the opinion that she had just misread the written word. As we were singing, I also became concerned about my pridefulness and perfectionism. I was “told” that I needed to learn to accept that perfection is not possible and that sometimes things are “good enough.” So, as I was singing with her with my eyes closed (or else there was some other reason I couldn’t see) I was trying to follow along with her and do as she did; I was trying to reach a high note with her (she can sing much higher than I can). After trying the same phrase several times, as she was playing the notes on the piano, I eventually asked her, “Is that good enough?” and she said “Yes, that is good enough.” Even though I did not feel like I had done it well or sounded good, I consciously decided to accept her word, that is was good enough. I felt that I had scored a great victory. We stopped singing and I went to my room and lay down for a time; probably in some state of unaware craziness.

I was not just possessed by the devil though, I was possessed by multitudes of evil spirits. At one point, I was told that my bathroom had been sealed off so that nobody else could hear what was going on in the bathroom; soundproofed. My daughter was the only one home at the time, and attests to the fact that she certainly could hear me screaming and yelling and making awful noises as I tried to rid myself of some of these devils. I don’t remember exactly how she worded it, but she said that it scared her, of course, and that when she prayed she felt a strong connection with God and was told a bit of what was happening and that it would all be OK. At least two more times I had a similar experience during the middle of the night, where I was screaming like a banshee and making awful noises. The first night this happened was when my husband discovered something was really wrong with me. I’m sure he was scared and freaked out, but he certainly wasn’t loving, understanding, and helpful. He didn’t seem to believe me that I couldn’t do anything about it. (I don’t recall now if he was just working extra hours or what he was busy with that allowed him to miss a lot of what was happening to me.) At these times in the bathroom, I was also “vomiting” up devils into the garbage can. I went through the motions of “dry heaving” over the garbage can, but I didn’t feel sick to my stomach at all, I just wanted the demons to get out of me and I knew throwing them up was the way. I had some crazy notion that if they came out of me and went into the garbage can that they would be stuck; the garbage can would act like some kind of black hole and keep them trapped. I know that one time I took a garbage sack of evil spirits out to the trash and was certain that the man riding his bike down the road while I place the can at the curb, was one of the Three Nephites. I was certain that he would circle back, once I went inside, and get the demons so that they could be dealt with properly.

One evening, even though I knew I wasn’t guaranteed to act like myself, I went to a church meeting. I think it was a YW planning meeting, or something like that, just the adults. I was able to stay to the meeting and be fairly normal for at least 20-30 minutes. But, I did have to quickly excuse myself and leave early, because I could feel an attack coming on. I was lucky to get home from the church safely. As soon as I got home, I lay down on the cement in the garage and contorted around. I remember commanding the evil spirits to leave. I believe that some of the evil spirits left easier than others; some recognize themselves as evil spirits. Others didn’t leave until I said something like, “I command any and all spirits that believe they are Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, or The Holy Ghost to leave me.”

After experiencing these kinds of convulsions on several occasions and experiencing some strange thoughts about how “the quaking would never stop until Christ came,” I asked my eldest son to give me a Priesthood Blessing and command the evil spirits to leave me. (I asked him instead of my husband, as I didn’t feel that my husband was anything but close minded at the time, so I didn’t think he could give me an effective blessing.) After the blessing, I did not experience anymore convulsions of evil spirits. Although I still had a lot of strange thoughts that I will share with you later, I felt like they were my mind trying to sort things out and work thorough things rather than the devil talking to me. I was/am very thankful that the blessing worked!

Sounds similar to someone I know who was possessed too.

[EndTimesBeliever]

My mind trying to make sense of things.

As I mentioned before, I was shocked to find myself possessed as a result of my efforts to repent. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out exactly what had gone wrong in the process. Was the entire thing evil from the beginning? Was I being punished by God because I had done something to harm “His creation?” Was I doing something good with “Intentional Release?” Was I being attacked by the Devil because I was making a difference in the spirit realm? One night, while pondering my situation, I felt that somehow I had managed to mix things up really bad and that everything I did needed to be unwound. I felt that as things were unwinding, that they were binding me in the chains of the Devil. I specifically felt these chains around my ankles and was afraid that I would be dragged down to hell for eternity because of my actions and the harm that I had done to “the creation.” I tend to believe that it was the Devil in my head again, pretending to be God, as the story kept changing as to if God wanted my records to undo what I had done or if the Devil wanted my records to undo what I had done; but something had been done to alter things due to my repentance efforts. I remember my ankles being chained up and I remember praying to Heavenly Father to please forgive me and to release me from the chains of hell. I remember feeling the chains around my ankles relax, loosen, and unwind.

I also recall another “conversation” with the Devil that happened as I slept/tried to sleep. I don’t really recall the conversation, but I do know that I woke my husband up when I yelled out, “I have more Priesthood than you will ever have.” I found this a little odd, since I am against women holding the Priesthood. I believe that during some portion of this ordeal that the Devil had tried to convince me that women should be given the Priesthood, and I held out adamant against that. (I have had not had many good experiences with women in positions of authority over me. I have had far more bad experiences with women in positions of authority over me than I have had with men in positions of authority over me. Whatever the reality of things in the next life (which I have no clue how it will be) I do not support women being in the positions of Bishop, Stake President Etc in this life. With all the problems men have in serving in these positions I strongly believe that they do far better as a whole than women ever could. We need men in our lives and we need men in the church. I expect their will be men and women in the next life and I fully expect that they there will still be differences between them and in their roles.)

The idea that Heavenly Father had fallen and become the Devil really disturbed me. I immediately began to try to figure out “What could we do if this were true?” It didn’t seem fair to me that we would have to live in hell for eternity because of His choice to give us his Godhood. I wondered if humans couldn’t put together some system of laws and consequences that would at least allow us to live in a Terrestrial level existence with Jesus even if we cannot manage a Celestial existence without Heavenly Father. Along these lines, my mind went to the notion that we would still need light in our kingdom. White light is made up of all colors, but can also be formed with just red, green, and blue. It might not be as good as God’s light, but it would still be white light. If I am remembering correctly I thought there needed to be four stands of light and added yellow to the mixture. (I think that in my confused state, I couldn’t remember if it was cyan, magenta, and yellow that made white or red, green, and blue. I think I mix it up and sometimes went with green and sometimes went with yellow and so ended up going with four colors.) I am pretty sure I thought it was 4 people that were picked to help me with picking the official frequencies of color to blend and making the rules for our better-than-hell-worse-than-heaven kingdom. Somehow, our minds were connected and we could see the colors and make a few decisions at that time, but that the main work would come into play at some future date. I wouldn’t know who had been assigned to help me until it was the appropriate time for us to come together and finalize the decisions sometime after this earth life is over. I remember seeing the lights come together in my mind’s eye, so something was going on there more than just my imagination. (I’m not saying that in reality we actually accomplished the feat, just that I could see it happening in a way that was more clearly visualized than normal for me.)

The idea that I had lived a million times and failed to qualify for salvation and exaltation also bothered me a great deal. Questions like, “Had other people also lived a million times, or am I just the slow learner?” and “Was there a different Jesus in each of these different lifetimes; was He successful in all versions?” came to mind. I am not sure if this is why I began to consider different versions of myself, or if it was all just the Devil playing with my mind and planting thoughts. (I had never really entertained the idea of multiple existences before this time.) At any rate, I began to “be aware” that there were at least three other versions of me. The ones I recall were a version of me that had not qualified to come to earth, and that was in hell (or wherever such spirits exist), a version of me that was a complete embarrassment to my family (sang off key really loudly at church or would smear poop on myself are some of the explanations of this person that came to me), and another version of myself that had never left England (meaning that my ancestors had never come to America and the entire family was still living on the other side of the ocean).

About this time, when I looked at some people (most often my husband) they began to appear to me to fluctuate between different versions of themselves. They would change rapidly between what seemed to me to be at least 4 or 5 different versions of themselves; at such times I couldn’t look at them and see the “stable version” of them that I knew. I started experiencing the same thing when I looked at the picture of Christ in my bedroom. I would look at the picture and see multiple different versions of Him in the picture. (I could never count all the faces and be certain on the number of different faces that were repeating as they flashed by so quickly, or even be certain that they were repeating.)

At some point in time, I came to the conclusion that I needed to merge at least 4 or 5 dimensions (time-lines) together; for the “greater good of humanity” I guess. I have no idea how I would know how to do such a thing, but evidently felt like all I had to do to accomplish it was agree to it and envision it happening. So, in my mind, I agreed to merge with at least the three versions of myself described above. At the time, I knew that it would come with repercussions and be hard to assimilate those versions together in one mind and I knew that it was not guaranteed that the strongest version (the one to remain intact/in control when it was all said and done) would be the version of me that was the conscious me having these thoughts. I also felt like I was asked if I would take on the responsibility and the heartache that was accompanied in the merging of these dimensions for my husband and children. (Meaning that I merged the versions of them that corresponded to the realities I mentioned of me at the same time I merged the versions of me, but that they wouldn’t have to do the work and fight to assimilate the different personalities/experiences like I would have to.) I agreed to the merge. I believe this was the night before I went to the hospital.

We woke up early the next morning. I am not exactly sure why. I don’t recall if we were just both awake, or if I woke up my husband. I do know that it was the first time in my life that I felt connected to my husband; like he was there and listening and understanding and wanting to be helpful. I felt like God had given me the gift to be in the same room as my husband’s “real consciousness” for the first time in my life. We talked a bit about what had been going on with me and why I was in the situation I was in, and he seemed more understanding than the nights he yelled at me when I was making awful noises in the bathroom. We decided to read our scriptures together, or in other words I read the scriptures out loud to him while he fell back to sleep. I randomly opened the scriptures to the Doctrine and Covenants and read several short chapters about building Zion, the New Jerusalem in Missouri. I remember reading slowly and deliberately, circling each and every word with my eyeballs, individually, as I read the word out loud, and felt that it was important that I do so. While reading I remember clearly thinking, “Of all the things God could want to tell me in the middle of all this mess, why is this what He wants me to read?” After I read a few chapters, my husband got up and took a shower, while I continued to read my scriptures. (I can’t remember if he called the Bishop for advice on what to do/to explain what was going on before or after his shower.) At that time, we only had one cell phone that we shared. While my husband was in the shower, we got a text, so I picked up the phone and read “Don’t forget chapter ____.” This chapter was not right in line with the other chapters I had read, so I turned to it and read it. I put the cell phone down on my chest so that if there were any other important messages I needed to receive or any other instructions I needed to hear, they would go straight to my heart and I wouldn’t have to answer the phone, I would just know what to do. (The message came from the man that was the person I was supposed to check in with for the “Growing your own Business” Self-Reliance course we were taking at the time. I felt that he was part of the “Priesthood Group” that was in charge of somehow recording me during many of the strange events I was going through; that they had been tasked to make sure I accomplished certain things during this process and recording the results. I also entertained the idea that he was actually one of the Three Witnesses in disguise sent to help me through this challenging time.)

After my husband showered, he came and took the phone from me and helped me get up and get ready to go to the hospital. (When I checked the phone after I got home from the hospital to find out what chapter I had read, I discovered that all of our call and text history had been deleted. I am not sure why my husband felt the need to delete everything while I was in the hospital, as that was not our normal practice. I had no notion before going to the hospital that I needed to pay strict attention to the chapter numbers I was reading, because I had no thought what-so-ever that the scriptures would be different after I returned from the hospital.) When we ate breakfast, my husband brought me belVita crackers and noosa strawberry rhubarb yogurt. This was one of my common breakfasts that he knew that I liked. When I started eating I said, “This is delicious, I have never had this before.” Somehow I knew that was really true and really not true both at the same time. I remember my husband and daughter laughing at me when I said it. It is one of our memories that we look to and laugh at from this ordeal; my daughter liking to imitate me and then remind me that I had had that same breakfast “a hundred times.”

By the time breakfast was over and I was in the car, I was completely “wacked out.” I remember placing “pegs” along our route, so that when it was time for the “do-over” I could go back to certain places. (I am not sure if that was to start over from there, to make sure I followed the same path, or exactly what purpose the pegs were to perform, I just felt they were necessary and placed several along the route as anchor’s to that point in time.)

When my husband took me to the emergency room, he first took me to someplace that didn’t have room for me or a way to help me (a quick care or something) and then we had to go to a different location (the ER). I recall acting a bit strange on the happy side of things at this location and as we walked to the other location. Everyone we ran into thought I was a bit strange and felt very sorry for my husband. Everyone thought that I was on drugs. I am sure they asked several times if I was on drugs while they were checking me in to the Emergency Room. I know that they did drug tests to verify that we were telling the truth. During this time I had thoughts about how the hospital was the “real temple” and that you couldn’t get to heaven if your path didn’t go through the hospital. I also thought that with all my “Intentional Release” that they would be amazed at how clean my blood was and that I was really there so that they could do tests to come up with solutions/medications that would help humanity.

I remember the aid that worked with me when they first put me in a room. I remember telling her “You are really beautiful.” (She was a very attractive young woman in my opinion, would that I were so pretty.) I am not sure if it was a doctor or physicians assistant that came in and talked to me, but I know that his last name was Martin. My husband has Martin’s on both sides of his family, so I told him that he was probably related to my husband and said, “Based on your looks, I would bet that you are within 12-15 steps relation; I am really good at this kind of stuff.” I remember wondering just when I had become good at telling how closely related people were just by looking at them, but I knew for sure I was good at it.

I remember them sending me to the bathroom, and that my husband had to go with me because I was not in the state of mind that made me capable of getting a urine sample. I could not urinate at that time, so they sent me back to my room for a time. I remember lying in the hospital bed and messaging my head, shoulders, and neck against the sides of the hospital bed. I had a lot of knots that I was trying to work out. It was extremely painful and felt very good at the same time. I don’t know how long it was before I felt the need to relieve some gas. (There are what appears to be large chunks of time missing from my memory that do not have the feel of “I was just asleep.”) At any rate, this is when I discovered that there truly is a connection between your mind and your gut. If your mind is a “complete basket case” then your gut probably is too. I also discovered that when you are not in your right mind, you have no ability to sense that something else is going to come out when you relieve the gas. So, I was utterly humiliated to find that I had messed on myself. My husband was angry with me and asked why I hadn’t just said I needed to go to the bathroom. I am not sure he believed me when I told him that I hadn’t known that I needed to go. The aid was very nice and understanding when she helped clean me up, and said “These things happen.” when I apologized and told her that I didn’t know this would happen. Overall, I think she deserves very high marks for how she treated me and interacted with me that day.

At some point they needed the room I was in for a different patient and they had me go wait in the hall or some waiting room with my husband. At this point I really had no clue what was going on what-so-ever and couldn’t see anything either. I don’t know if my mind blocked things out, or if I just had my eyes closed most of the time. I do know that I caused a big ruckus though and made all the other patients feel very uncomfortable, so they put me back into the room they had taken me out of.

Before we had gone to the hospital my husband had asked me where all the books were that had the records of all that I had done with my releasing emotions. I am not sure exactly what that was about, but I think that the Bishop had told him to get them from me. I do not know if they wanted them for record keeping purposes or to destroy them. I believe that he asked me a couple of times where they were while we were waiting in the ER. I had answered each time that I didn’t know where they were. I don’t know if I explained to him or not that I was certain that the Three Witnesses had come to take them for safe keeping, but I do know that I didn’t know where they were because they were not where they had always been kept. (My records needed to be “kept safe” because the Devil also wanted my records, so that he could undo what I had done and/or use them to chain me in hell for eternity.) At one point, after a huge chunk of missing time, I asked my husband to call the Bishop. I asked him several times and he refused each time. He asked me why I wanted him to call the Bishop and I said, “I know where the records are.” He asked, “Where?” I said, “Right here, they are all right here inside of me.” (We talked about this after I got home from the hospital and I asked him why he had refused to call the Bishop. He said, “Because it was 10:30 at night.” So, I was in the ER for a long time that day and into the night.

I am not sure what time they finally decided to send me to the Behavioral Health Hospital. I know part of the reason it took them so long is that it took awhile for them to get the urine sample from me and do the test to prove that this episode was not drug related. Another hang-up was that they were having a hard time finding a place for me. Our insurance was through Presbyterian, but they had no room for me. They found a place for me at Lovelace. They promised my husband that the insurance would pay for it as if it was “in-network” because we had no “in-network” choices available. (Part of the hang-up was supposedly them checking with the insurance to verify this.) Of course, when we got the bill, we found that they charged us “out-of-network” fees and could not find any proof that it had been approved to be charged as “in-network” so it was a very expensive trip to the hospital because they refused to honor the agreement. In the end, paid about 2x what it would have cost going “in-network.”

I am also unclear why my husband agreed to have them ship me to the Lovelace in the ambulance. He certainly could have just put me in the car and taken me there and saved that chunk of money, as he followed the ambulance there and I was “well-behaved” at the time. I remember getting in the ambulance and having someone sitting next to me, but again, I mostly had my eyes closed. I remember being a bit “loopy” and having strange thoughts, but I didn’t cause any problems. The ride felt very fast to me. I remember telling my husband that it felt like they “zoomed” me to the hospital, but he told me that we just went normal speeds the entire way. It wasn’t truly an emergency to get me there, so no sirens were involved.

[The Airbender]

Could we all exist in multiple time lines at the same time and have at least one where we are really good and that is the one that counts? I don't know, but these are some of the things I have wondered about for the last 7 years.

Last year I was in a friend's kitchen and all of a sudden I turned around, looked down, and heard, "You've been here before."

Thinking of it as loading a save game file and having to reach a point I've already been was extremely disheartening. Where was I before I was born? Did I already live a life in the end days and "failed"?

I still don't understand it but it did give me a desire to never have to return to that point ever again.

Sometimes I feel like I am living the wrong life. Sometimes I wonder if I am waiting for other "me" (or multiple?) to die and come here.

Mostly, I think it is more amazing that we can understand, but I have only experienced misery and suffering on unimaginable levels, not peace or happiness. Haven't really been happy a day in my life.

[Cruiserdude]

Could we all exist in multiple time lines at the same time and have at least one where we are really good and that is the one that counts? I don't know, but these are some of the things I have wondered about for the last 7 years.

... I have only experienced misery and suffering on unimaginable levels, not peace or happiness. Haven't really been happy a day in my life.

Jeez, hermano, hearing this seriously breaks my heart I'm very sorry to hear it and I will hope and pray for you to feel some kind of happiness/joy Mr. Airbender

I know you didn't ask, so forgive me if I'm overstepping my bounds, but what really helps me find peace and happiness is thinking of the Savior... and reading and seeking out the very real and personal relationship he offers us with Him... and especially helpful for me is the mercy and forgiveness He offers me. I've made many many mistakes, sins included. But I know without any doubt that the Lord has forgiven me for it and desires me to have peace and joy in this mortal probation through His mercy and love.

I really don't know what else, at all, that we can find true lasting joy and happiness in... Sure I enjoy a ball game or a good day of fishing, but I'm talking the REAL DEEP HEARTFELT joy. I've only found it with Him and since it is so real for me, I sincerely hope any and all can find the Lord and feel and know the same comfort and peace He's allowed me to know.

[The Airbender]

I know Jesus said that God would never give a son, who asks for bread, a rock. But in my case, it's been serpents and rocks. If there is a still small voice, I've never heard it, or else God just loves being maniacal and sadistic.

[logonbump]

Could we all exist in multiple time lines at the same time and have at least one where we are really good and that is the one that counts? I don't know, but these are some of the things I have wondered about for the last 7 years.

Last year I was in a friend's kitchen and all of a sudden I turned around, looked down, and heard, "You've been here before."

Thinking of it as loading a save game file and having to reach a point I've already been was extremely disheartening. Where was I before I was born? Did I already live a life in the end days and "failed"?

I still don't understand it but it did give me a desire to never have to return to that point ever again.

Sometimes I feel like I am living the wrong life. Sometimes I wonder if I am waiting for other "me" (or multiple?) to die and come here.

Mostly, I think it is more amazing that we can understand, but I have only experienced misery and suffering on unimaginable levels, not peace or happiness. Haven't really been happy a day in my life.

I received these words thru a blessing once, and will share them here:

...through your faithfulness, for you must be faithful. You must live the Gospel. You must make those good things happen. You must study, learn and know what the Lord would have you do. All these things are not just given out of the blue. They do not just happen. You have to search them out and find them and make them yours. The Lord has promised that "man is that he might have joy." You will have found that joy if you will can prepare yourself for it.

[EndTimesBeliever]

One of the very first things that I did upon finding myself possessed, was to call the Bishop and ask him in a really demonic sounding voice to come to the church with his wife and meet with me. He absolutely refused at that time. I am not sure that he originally knew it was me that had called or not, but I texted later and told him that I needed to be excommunicated. He let me come and talk to him at his office for a brief time, one of the days that I was possessed. He “chewed me out” for doing “Intentional Release” and not heeding his council to stop, as he had warned me that negative consequences could result. (This is only partially true. He gave me mixed signals. When I first told him about it, he seemed a little alarmed, but let me share what I had learned about myself from it. The second time we talked about it he said, “Keep going.” It wasn’t until the fourth or fifth time I talked about my findings with him that he advised me to quit. At that point I only saw “good fruit” and couldn’t understand how “bad fruit” comes from “good-intentioned-positive-efforts.”) While in his office I felt convicted that I had tried to go my own way and not heeded the “counsel and direction from those in position of authority over” me as my patriarchal blessing had admonished me to do. I was very repentant. He had me read a scripture or two and had me say a prayer for forgiveness. When I left his office, it was really strange, as when I looked at him, he would not look me in the eyes. He was facing me, but his eyes were going back-and-forth really rapidly. Occasionally during the rest of this experience other people’s eyes would do the same thing.

When I left the Bishop’s office, the wife of the Second Counselor in the Bishopric was in the hall across the way. I do not recall if her eyes went back-and-forth rapidly or not. I do remember a feeling of “disdain” coming from her; the impression that came to my mind was that she couldn’t understand why I couldn’t figure out that the Second Coming had already happened, and that she and others were sick-and-tired of waiting for me to figure it out and come unto Christ so we could all move on to a better life. I doubt this is what she was actually thinking, but it is what I thought she was thinking. I had worried about this several times during this ordeal. At some points I was certain that every morning was the Second Coming and everyone else on the planet knew and understood that, but I was just a slow hopeless cause that couldn’t figure out how to hear the trumpet and accept Christ; that God was being overly patient with me and putting off the advancement of the entire world just for me to hopefully finally get it and others were getting very tired of waiting.

The Second Coming was very much on my mind when I made it to the Behavioral Health Hospital. I believe the first thing they had me do was meet with the doctor on night duty. I have a vague memory of meeting with him. I remember seeing his office, but not him. The questions he asked and the answers I gave never made it to my brain and seemed to come from a distance. After talking to him, they took me to the cafeteria for a snack. I remember asking, “Did I miss supper?” and they said, “Yes, supper is over.” I was certain that meant that I was too late to participate in the Second Coming, that I was one of the “foolish virgins” that had been shut out. I remember eating some chocolate pudding with some peanut butter and graham crackers. I thought it was very good. They took me to a room and I eventually fell asleep.

I believe that they let me sleep in that next day because I had gotten in so late at night. I’m guessing it was lunch that I was taken to the cafeteria. The first patient that I met was a Native American woman who was older than me. She told me that the hospital was the “real world.” She said that she had been there for something like 10-12 years that she was actually lying in a comma in a hospital bed with a broken arm. I remember her talking about the food and wishing that she could have a steak. When they gave me the paper to fill out for requesting my dinner, they gave me a pencil. (I got a pencil a few more times, and I believe one time they let everyone have a pencil, but most often we had to mark our papers with crayons.)

I wrote all over my paper. I crossed out coffee. I crossed out iced tea. I crossed out all the salad dressings as I do not like vinegar and I believe many salad dressings to be full of preservatives and things that are not good for you and/or don’t like them. I wrote in that I wanted home-made Ranch dressing and explained how to make it with the Hidden Valley Ranch Seasoning Mix, Mayonnaise, and Organic Milk. If I am correct in what I saw, they had the same 5 choices for lunch as they had for dinner. I know that I explained on the paper that people didn’t want the same things for lunch and dinner that we needed a variety of things to choose from that were real dinners. I wrote on the paper that I wanted a steak dinner for me and __________. (I don’t recall her name now, but I wrote it on the paper so they would know who else ordered the steak.)

Evidentially, having a pencil was the key to getting things to change, or else it was just that they valued my opinion for some reason. Sometime after turning in the form, one of the workers came up to me and asked about the home-made Ranch dressing, so I explained to him how to make it and told him that I got the ingredients from Costco. He seemed genuinely concerned that they had not been able to find exactly what I was looking for. For the rest of the time that I was in the hospital, it appears that the only salad dressing that people could order was Ranch. I think it was Newman’s Own Organic Ranch packets that they found at Costco. I tried it the first time, but didn’t like it, so I ate my salad without salad dressing the rest of the time I was there.

The way it worked for us, was that if you didn’t want something on your plate, you put it in the middle of the table so others could take it if they desired. At some point the workers or the patients would call out what was left to see if anyone wanted it or they would call out to see if there was an extra of something someone wanted. For the rest of my stay, “Salad with Ranch” was called out a lot, so I knew everyone was getting Ranch dressing and not everyone liked to eat their salad.

I don’t know if they went back to having a variety of dressings after I left or not. I do know that people are less concerned about their salad dressing choice than their coffee and their iced tea though. I believe that it was the same worker that came up to me and asked about the coffee and tea. He had to verify that I had not meant that nobody could have coffee and tea when I crossed it out because many had asked after it when they found it missing at the next meal. I said that it was fine if others wanted to have it, that I had only meant that I didn’t want it as I knew it wasn’t good for me. (He never came up and asked if they could add the other salad dressings back onto the menu.) I believe that the iced tea ended up coming with the meal at least for dinner and lunch automatically. I always put mine in the middle of the table and there was always someone that wanted an extra.

We never did get a steak dinner, but the menus I got after that first one did come with a variety of choices for dinner. I believe that the second time I got a pencil I wrote that we wanted different meal choices from day to day for dinner. After that there was a rotation in the offering from day to day for dinners, but steak was never an option listed. There were a lot of fairly good meals in my opinion. It was a lot better than I would have expected for a hospital. The one thing that I really enjoyed was the Craisin Oatmeal Cookies. I do not like raisins in my cookies at all, so I was a bit surprised that I liked the Craisin cookies. After I came home from the hospital, I tried to find similar cookies, but was never successful at finding any that were as good as those I had in the hospital. Yum, I am craving one right now.

[EndTimesBeliever]

“The Daughter of Eve of the Morning of the First Resurrection”

So, what of my role as “The Daughter of Eve of the Morning of the First Resurrection?”

1. It appeared to have something to do with setting standards.

With “Intentional Release” I became very aware of different emotions and came to recognize them quite instantly. This was strange for me as I would not consider myself to have been someone that was “in touch with their emotions” before this time. Sometime around the time that things got really strange for me, I remember thinking in the shower about different emotions. I felt like I was being asked to go through several different emotions and determine where the line was between it being a sin and not being a sin. I felt like I could take the one emotion and feel the different levels/amounts of that emotion and “fine-tune scale” how much was acceptable and understandable; how much should/would a loving God tolerate and not count against you as a sin? I felt that somehow “the Priesthood” was recording my thought as I worked through a few different emotions, so that they would know where to set the standards. The one that I have a clear memory of is what I will classify today as “snotty teenager,” or pushback because you want to be your own person and make your own decisions. I set the level at one spot where I felt that I could handle the emotion coming at me from my kids and be able to respond in understanding and not anger. I decided to readjust that level up a bit at least two different times, so the level I set really felt quite “snotty.” Only time will tell if this experience really meant anything or not, but if I really did set a standard level, just know that God will allow us to be fairly snotty and not count it as a sin. I believe that agency is important to Him and that we will still have agency in the next life and want to make some of our own decisions in regards to where and how we focus on the development and use of our talents. I believe that He will respect our desire to “be our own person” even though He will have some pointers that will be of benefit for us to follow. Although we will have our agency, I strongly believe that there will be rules that are non-negotiable and must be followed to be in His kingdom. If not so, why the atonement of Jesus Christ? Why would Christ need to die for our sins in order for us to get back to God, if those exact behaviors are not sinful in heaven?

Another time when I was taking a bath, I felt like different “evils” were going down the drain with the water. I then felt like I had to stay there for a minute or two with my foot holding down the plug to prevent them from coming back out. The main thing that I was concerned about was animals wanting to progress with us in the next life. I adamantly insisted on no animals. While I was possessed by the Devil, he tried a few times to get me to change my mind about the animals, but I maintained my no position throughout. I also felt like our family dog was pleading with me to get me to accept animals moving forward. When I was in the hospital, I perceived that she was in my locker and barked at me to let her out, so that she could progress in the next life. Even though I knew she was not there, I heard an audible bark come from inside my locker. I refused to get out of bed and open the locker.

My insistence against animals was made more interesting because of some of my experiences in the hospital. One of the male patients appeared to have altered fingernails (they didn’t look normal whether they were mixed with animal DNA or not.) I also heard one of the women patients asking a hospital worker for an extra pair of socks to wear, so that her “claws” wouldn’t click against the floor as she walked down the hall. I had the impression that part of the reason some of the people were in the hospital was to get separated from the animals that they had been purposefully mixed with. Only pure DNA gets to move forward, not humans mixed with animal DNA.

2. It appeared to come with an understanding of our general condition as human beings.

At one point in time 2-3 days before going to the hospital while I was alone in my bedroom, I stood beside my bed and talked to myself. I lamenting on how crooked and out of balance we are as humans. I said, “People think that they are walking down the street all straight and tall, but they are really doing this” and then I demonstrated by being a “crazy drunken sailor.” If you look closely at people you can see how true it is that we hold our bodies in all sorts of contorted ways, none of us are tall and straight and aligned properly. I had already noticed this previously because I had done some stretches to help me align better and reduce my shoulder and elbow pain years earlier. The feeling that I got with this experience was that we are even more “out of whack” than I had already realized an recognized; that we are “out of kilter” in a much deeper and broader way than manifested in how we hold our bodies. One way to partially explain it is that we are “tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine” even though we think we are following true doctrines of Christ. At the time of this experience I had not heard of sound healing and biofields, but I think that the idea of our biofields being 6 feet around us and storing a lot of our negative unprocessed emotions and our “generational curses” would explain, in at least part, how it is a much deeper rooted problem than just our bodies.

One of the things that “blows my mind” the most about this entire experience is that during my hospital stay, one of the workers said to me out of the blue as he was walking down the hall towards me, “EndTimesBeliever, when I am at home, I walk like this.” and then demonstrated by walking like a “crazy drunken sailor.” How do people in the hospital know what you said, did, or thought in private days before being admitted to the hospital?

3. It appeared to come with the need to understand the Earth.

I am unclear if all the great amounts of emotions that I was feeling were really just all my own, or if they were so great because I was feeling the emotions of the “collective.” I do believe that if things were not all mixed together and connected before I started “Intentional Release” they certainly become so because of it. This belief is due to the fact that when I released emotions, I came to a point where I cycled the release so that the effects of my sins/emotions would not harm “all of God’s creation.” And, I asked this cycle to be done 70 x 7 times in multiple different ways. (I do apologize if my efforts harmed you in any way. When we are in heaven and find out for sure, I hope you will be able to forgive me if my actions harmed you or if I released something off of you that you really wanted to hang onto.)

At one point before going to the hospital, I felt like I was responsible in some way for nourishing the world (not sure if it was just the people or the entire creation) and somehow connected the world to my breast, so that I could nurse it until the Second Coming; similar to how the Earth nourishes us continually without having to think about it. I also felt that the quaking I was experiencing was similar to what the Earth is going through with earthquakes; that it is vomiting up evil spirits to rid itself of them. The main difference being that my “shaking” stopped after the blessing, but the Earth has had to continue its “shaking” and it will not stop doing so until the Savior comes. I felt that the Earth is very warn out and tired. It is longing to be free from the evil that is within it and upon it.

I remember having conversations with myself and discovering the definitions of words as if I was the earth on my way to the ER. I remember laughing out loud at discovering that I had had things in reverse and not understood the directions and signals that God was sending me. For instance, I had been collecting water instead of releasing it or vice/versa. At one point while I was in the emergency room, there was something that was beeping in my room and I used that beep to help orient the correct heading to be on while I pointed with my arm and said “Home” repeatedly over and over again. I remember praying to Heavenly Father (in my head) that He would forgive me for being on the wrong path and getting side tracked. I remember explaining to Him that I knew He had commanded me to keep an eye on the Devil, to continually watch him and not let him confuse me, but then explained to him that it was pretty hard for a round shape to know which side was forward and up and that it makes one dizzy to try to keep their eyes on the Devil as he continually moves from one location to another and always trying to stay “behind you.” At any rate, I felt that the Earth had gotten off course and not completely been faithful in fulfilling its measure of creation by not staying on the true heading that had been set. However, it had great intensions and wanted to be faithful in all ways, and was now adjusted and heading the right way. I felt that we should forgive the Earth of its shortcomings and rejoice with it in its repentance.

While I was in the Behavioral Health Hospital I felt like I needed to be “baptized with a flood.” I put towels over the drain in the shower and then lay down on the floor of the bathroom so that the water would rise and cover my body. I didn’t think about blocking the space under the door, so the water never got very high. But, I can tell you I was quite embarrassed (even in my crazy state) when one of the male employees opened the door to find me lying naked on the floor. I am not sure why they were expecting a flood, but I remember hearing one of the workers say to another in amazement, “We really did have a flood!” After that, they switched my room so that they could keep a better eye on me, so for the rest of my stay I was right across the hall from the office area.

4. It appeared to have something to do with setting standards regarding the Degrees of Glory.

I remember on several different occasions trying to work out the standards for getting to the different kingdoms of glory. Recalling some thoughts I had had about Joseph Smith before going to the hospital, I believe I set the standard for the Celestial Kingdom at 86%, (might have gone as low as 80%) because I was certain that Joseph’s “desire to follow Christ score” was 86.5% at the highest. I figured that he should qualify and that we shouldn’t be required to have a higher score than him to make it. (I am not sure how that score would be calculated, if it would be Christ’s opinion on how much of the time you desired to be righteous or if it would be a calculation of all of your good choices divided by all of the choices you ever made.) I am not entirely sure where I ended up thinking the line between the Telestial and Terrestrial Kingdoms should be drawn, that one was harder for me to decide on, I am guessing I ended up with somewhere around 50%. I do know that I set the level for getting out of hell at 0.0132%. That one I am certain I felt that you didn’t even have to really reach that level of desire to follow Christ, you just had to think that you thought you wanted to follow Him at least that much. If you don’t think you even want to try 0.0132% to follow Christ, you can legitimately be declared to be in the category of rejecting Christ.

I recall feeling like with the “Intentional Release” I had repented enough to have been more “clean and pure” than the Apostles. I remember feeling that they knew all about me and all about what I had been doing and that they were upset that I was more “righteous” than they were. I remember thinking that I would give them time to repent and “catch up to me.” It has been over seven years and I have not seen any indication from them that they have used the time wisely to repent and set themselves right with God. (At that time, I didn’t think they were overly wicked, just that they needed to do some “Intentional Release” and make a few minor course corrections.)

5. Current and/or future duties

I am uncertain if there are any current or future duties in this role. But, I do wonder about it at times and sometimes pray to Heavenly Father to help me know what it is and how to accomplish it if there is something that I should do. I also pray to him occasionally in a way that indicates that I think that He actually might care about what I think on certain issues. I would expect some of these prayers land me in the “snotty enough to be sinning” category. I don’t know if he laughs at me when I say such prayers thinking, “Oh that silly EndTimesBeliever actually believes she is “The Daughter of Eve of the Morning of the First Resurrection” and that her opinion really matters. Ha, ha, ha. It is understandable though as notions put in the head by demons really have a long lasting effect, and she will eventually grow out of it.” or if He is more inclined to be angry and think, “Insolent pup, who does she think she is talking to me that way!” Maybe it is some of both. I strongly feel that God punished me last year (2023) for my prayer about feeling deserted. I told Him that I know that He hasn’t really deserted me, but that I can’t feel Him and I can’t understand His directions and the effect is the same as if He really has deserted me. Then I repeated my prayer and told Him that I stand by it, He really has deserted me. Almost exactly at that point in my prayer our truck instantly stopped working in the middle of nowhere. He seemed to be saying, “Fine. If you want to feel deserted, here you go. Be stranded on the side of the road and have something real to complain about.” We had to rent a truck to finish our vacation, wait about 1 ½ months to get it fixed, pay over $2000 for the repair, and have my husband fly to go pick it up. That was an expensive prayer, but I am not sure it will prevent me from ever saying another snotty prayer in the future.

The idea of it being seven years since I went crazy keeps playing in my mind and I wonder if He will soon answer some of my heart-felt-pleas for understanding about this event in my life. Does understanding and help come in the eighth year? Will there be a newness of life and an ability to feel connected to God again or will I always feel/be deserted as nothing compares to the connection I felt with God right before “going mad.”

One thing I wonder about is if my living in Missouri now is somehow important to the building up of Zion as I am the one that read the scriptures in the D&C about the building of the New Jerusalem in Missouri and how the buildings were to be constructed, measured, and used; scriptures that now seem to no longer exist. Another possibility that plays in my mind, is should I declare as “The Daughter of Eve of the Morning of the First Resurrection” that the Apostles have had their seven year warning and publicly declare that they did not use it to repent and mend their ways, instead they appear to have moved farther in the wrong direction. Will doing so, mark a spot of transition where we can finally move into the cleansing of the church and have things set back in order for the Second Coming and the Millennial Reign of the Messiah? I have read a lot of “EndlessQuestions” posts and wonder if his excommunication marks an end of the time where the apostles could repent on their own and now we can move into the part where they are compelled to repent.

I am as anxious as ever for the Second Coming of Jesus Christ. I do not have any understanding as to why someone would want to continue living on the earth as it is as opposed to having Christ come and setting things in order. I did not write down the date, but somewhere around a year after my hospital stay, I was very depressed. As I sat pondering, I received a clear “wait for seven years message.” I then saw some posting on the internet about how the Second Coming could be in 7 years. So, in my mind, I felt strongly that God was telling me that the Second Coming would be in 7 years. That thought is the only thing that has kept me alive for the last 6 years. The thought of having to live longer in this state brings me to tears and despair. So, although I know that at least in the LDS circle I am almost completely on my own in my thinking and reasoning about when the Second Coming is I maintain that it will be within one to two years. (At least the Adam-ondi-Ahman part.) I understand that I might be heart broken by the end of 2025. If I could be living in a safe environment surrounded by like-minded individuals that are truly trying to build Zion, by the end of 2025, then I will count that good enough, even if I haven’t personally seen Christ by that time. But I can honestly see no way for there to be any building Zion movement without Christ returning and/or the extremely bad times that precede it. I know God promised me that something would be better in 7 years, and I am praying that He keeps His promise.

In my opinion, there is a general LDS belief that “we can’t know the day or the hour” of Christ’s return, so we shouldn’t be watching for it; that somehow it is focusing on doom and gloom to be watching the signs. (The second coming does come with a lot of turmoil, heartache, and sorrow, but that bad part has to be gone through one way or the other, let’s get it over with and move on to the good part, is my perspective. I can’t think of one thing that is more positive and hopeful than Christ coming.) One of the ironies of the general LDS belief is that they also seem to believe that the Second Coming is going to be obvious and exactly like their personal interpretation of the scriptures. The general belief seems to follow along this logic: there will be two witnesses called to Israel, these two witnesses will be members of the 12 apostles, we will all be aware when they are called, they will serve for 3 ½ years, 3 ½ years is time enough to prepare, I don’t need to start concerning myself about the Second Coming until the 2 witnesses are called, isn’t it great that I am LDS and have the inside scoop and have the prophet to tell me exactly when the Second Coming will be.

I have long wished that we would talk about the signs-of-the-times in our church. I have been anxiously watching for it since I was 10 or 11 years old. There has been the occasional prophetic statement that some item or other has been fulfilled, but as a general rule, nothing is said or, if it is talked about, it is talked about in the manner of “Look how much more has to be fulfilled, there is no way it is anytime soon.” As a result, most LDS believe that there are many signs that still need to be fulfilled, so it is nothing to be concerned about yet. However, as one man that I listen to puts it “Just because it’s not happening to you doesn’t mean it’s not happening.” Many of the signs have been fulfilled, but not in an “obvious-couldn’t-be-missed” way. I believe that God will fulfill “every jot and tittle” but that He will do so in a way that not only will feel like it was mostly just “nature” and not “miraculous” but will also look completely different than what any of us envisioned and will be completely missed by many who believe they are looking, watching, and waiting.

Anyway, many signs are happening now. Unfortunately, you have to look outside the LDS church in order to hear about them, which of course for many, is a really big “No, no.” There are two comets in the sky right now that are making the “Sign of the Son of Man.” I find it interesting and of note that the scriptures say that when Christ comes many will say “It was a comet.” and He is using comets to mark the sign in the heavens. There are more videos and articles to read, but here is the link for the most recent video put out about these comets. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cuRSeHPTGPw

[EndTimesBeliever]

My hospital stay is what changed my perception of reality - part 1.

I believe that the first night I was in the hospital was the night that I spent a lot of time feeling like the Earth was rocking. I know I was obsessed with rocks, earth, and stars. I believe that I thought I was helping to rock the Earth, but I cannot remember why I felt that it needed to be rocked. I also felt like it is people that become stars. I believed that my friend that had introduced me to energy healing was being changed into a star as a reward for helping me - at least her “higher self” as I did not think she was actually dying and wouldn’t be around after I got out of the hospital.

The next morning when I took a shower, I thought that a version of my husband was in the room next to mine and also taking a shower. I turned the temperature up several times, and thought that each time I did, that it also changed his water’s temperature or else that he felt compelled to match my temperature. I let it get too hot to stand under and thought that the water had probably scalded him, although I am not sure why I thought he wouldn’t move out from under it. I believed that it was some sort of cleansing of our marriage/relationship. (The fact that I was able to turning up the water temperature so high became interesting to me when I heard other patients complain that they could not get their water hot enough to enjoy their shower. So, evidently they have some way of controlling the allowed temperature in the different rooms.) After my shower, I said a prayer while I was in the bathroom and apologized to my husband for being so hard to live with. I am not sure why in my “crazy state” I feel that I am the culprit for the difficulties in our marriage but I know that I had also felt this way a night or two before going to the hospital; that I would be lucky if he would accept me as his wife in the next life as he is far my superior. When I am not in a “crazy state” I am much more inclined to believe that although I have my issues, he is the source of most of the problems in our marriage due to his unwillingness to apologize, inability to listen and remember what I say, always wanting his own way, and the joy he gets from purposely pushing my buttons while pretending that he is purely innocent and not doing anything (he is a gifted passive-aggressive.)

When I got around the hospital and saw/met some of my fellow patients, I was certain that 3 or 4 of the men in the hospital were versions of my husband. I didn’t have a lot of interaction with them, but one of them came up to me and told me that they had watched “The Titanic” the day before and that I really ought to watch it. I clearly remembered that I had seen it before and not liked it, but felt the need to follow his counsel so I asked one of the workers if I could watch it. Later the worker came back and talked to me about it and explained to me that there were limited times to watch movies and that others probably didn’t want to see it again. It felt as if he were asking me for permission to not show it to me, like I could have said, “No, I really want to see it.” and they would have had to show it to me. I simply said that I had asked only because it had been recommended to me, that I understood others wouldn’t want to see it two days in a row, and that I didn’t need to see it.

Another “version of my husband” had some kind of interview he had to go to (or court hearing) in order to determine if he could be released from the hospital. It had been mentioned by someone that he had to leave the hospital for that one day, so I specifically wished him luck when I saw him in the cafeteria when I was walking by to my room even though I had never talked to him before. I felt connected to him and like I wanted the best for him.

One “version of my husband” spent some time lying down on the hall floor near the desk. He had a sheet over his body and would peak his head out from under it occasionally. This happened after I was transferred to the room right across the hall from the desk and the day that I sat blocking my doorway so that no one could enter my room. I didn’t want anyone to come into my room except my husband, so I sat in the doorway with my back on one side and my feet touching the other side. During this time I was worried about being straight and tall and getting aligned, I believed that I could make suggestions of how I would want to look in my resurrected body. I talked to myself a bit and I remember clearly spitting on the floor for some reason. One of the workers saw me do this and asked me to not do that and to clean it up, so I apologized and used a Kleenex to wipe up the spit. I also remember that I had a small paper cup in my hand and while I sat there pondering and repenting, I felt a drop of oil drip off of my forehead and heard it drop into the cup I was holding. I know that I felt this had great significance and was believe that I felt it was somehow symbolic of Jesus sweating drops of blood in the Garden of Gethsemane.

After some time, I went into my room and shut the door. One of the workers wanted me to open the door, just to have it open or to come inside I don’t know, but I didn’t want them to enter my room. I was on my hands and knees with my head against the door pushing against them. After a bit, they gave up and swung the door outward. So, for the rest of my stay, the door swung outward, so that I could not block the entry into my room.

Besides there being multiple “versions of my husband” in the hospital, there was a “version of his older brother” there as well. I had a lot more contact with this man than I did with the “versions of my husband.” In my opinion this man was the spitting image of his brother in looks and build. For some reason this man felt compelled to come up and talk to me and introduce me to the two Indian (probably Navajo) women sitting with him at his table. He said, “These are my two illegitimate daughters Na and Am.” (There nicknames - he probably told me their names, but I couldn’t remember how to say them, so they just told me to call them by their nicknames. I helped them with some puzzles a few times while I was there as they liked to do puzzles.) He led me to believe that the Indian women I already mentioned (who I believe was named Charlotte) was the mother of these two daughters. There must have been some estrangement there though as the daughters were always with this man and not with the mother. I believe I did see this man interact with Charlotte on a few occasions. I do not understand how an entire family ends up in the mental hospital at the exact same time. I do not understand why this man would feel the need for me to know and accept his two illegitimate daughters unless he knew who I was and that he was a version of my brother-in-law; it felt to me as if he knows who my “higher self” is and that it was important to him that my “higher self” accept his two daughters. I felt to accept these girls as my nieces and to not condemn the man for his actions. (The “version of my brother-in-law that I know” had a very hard marriage and has been divorced for many years. I am not sure how the ages of these two daughters compare to the ages of the two children that I know. I just believe that when things are all said and done, I will have more nieces that who I know from this “version of reality.”)

Another interaction that I clearly remember with this man was when we were watching a comedy show. The comedian made some remarks about men and women; I can’t remember exactly what it was, but I believe that his joke implied women in the dominate role rather than the men. This “version of my brother-in-law” was sitting directly in front of me (I was sitting on a folding chair behind a table and he was in some kind of chair in front of the table.) He turned his head a bit when the comedian made his joke and he said “Oh, so that is how it is going to be now. Huh?” He said it like I had had something to do with what the comedian was saying. For some reason I don’t have any understanding of, I felt like I was responsible for many of the shows/movies we watch in this world and this man’s comment confirmed that idea. I don’t understand why my “higher self” would make movies that I won’t watch in this life, but I felt certain that I had written many of them and/or that I could change them.

I had the idea that we could edit movies to make them more clean and appropriate; that somehow without much effort we could put modest clothes on all the women and take out all the swear words. I felt that part of the reason for watching movies was so that I could make determinations of what needed to be changed in the movies. I felt one of the hospital workers watching me closely one day during one of the movies. Every time there was something vulgar I would shake my head “No” so that whoever was watching me could make the edit. There was one scene where a woman was show in an outfit that showed sunburn lines. I felt that the lines where put there for my approval as to if those levels were an appropriate level of modesty for women in movies. I nodded my head “Yes” that I thought them appropriate although I am pretty sure the line on the legs would not cover my garments (but would for most women as they buy the short version.)

One movie that we watched was “Angry Birds.” I had never seen it before because I didn’t think I would like it. I remember liking it much more than I thought I would. I even had my family watch it after I got out of the hospital even though none of them really thought they were interested in it. The day before we watched it in the hospital, I had spent a lot of time in my bed tying up my sheet in knots in order to protect my children. I remember clearly having my sheet wrapped up in a ball and protecting it with my body. When I watched the movie, I felt that it was “replaying” what I had done to protect my children. I felt like that what I had done the night before had changed the end of the movie from what it had originally been. (Of course, I have no idea if the ending really changed as I had not seen it before, but I felt certain it had.)

At the same time, I felt certain that I was being tested to see what mattered to me. There were some flyers that were on the fridge in the cafeteria. For several days, they were about “get rich quick schemes.” I could see they were about money from a distance, but never went over to them to read them. After a few days they changed to something health related and then I did walk over and look at the posted flyers. I was concerned about health and nutrition and as mentioned previously my noted thoughts on food changed the menu. Another thing that happened was that I decided that I needed to get more water than what I got at meals, so I took this grey container that they had given each of us and filled it with ice water and took it around with me. Before I started to use mine in that manner, no one was using theirs that I was aware of. As soon as I started using mine, many other patients started to do the same thing. I had had thoughts about how drinking water and chewing ice would help others overcome some of their addictions. I do not remember saying anything out loud about this, but one day, while playing Uno, Jake said to me during some discussion, “And, No, chewing ice doesn’t help.”

I was certain that the hospital (if not the earth) was a trial experiment where they were trying to figure out what things are healthy and good for you and what aren’t; like things aren’t set in stone on this matter in heaven yet and there are a lot of things that haven’t been tested/determined. I was certain that they were unaware that coffee and tea where bad for you until I crossed them off of the menu. I also felt like “they” were watching my reaction to certain treats that they gave us. I remember really liking the chocolate pudding cup combined with a packet of peanut butter and graham crackers. I felt that others were surprised that “someone of my station” would approve of having chocolate, but if I have my say, we will be able to have chocolate in heaven.

I felt that many of the people in the hospital knew who I really am; “my higher self,” and that it was important for me to not know who I really am and that they were keeping secrets from me. I was very concerned from my releasing trapped emotions about the number of times you had to ask God for a blessing before he would give you the blessing. I felt certain that you should not have to say “sorry” 7x70 times before you should be forgiven. I felt that once should be enough if it was sincere. Along these lines I felt that cleaning your body should be fairly quick; that you shouldn’t have to wash the same part of your body over and over, “once per shower” was enough. I felt certain they were taking videos of me in the bathroom, taking showers and getting dressed in my garments, so that they could show these videos to others to teach them correct methods; to show obsessive-compulsives that they didn’t have to do things over-and-over-and-over and to show how to put on the garment and quickly make sure that the marking were in the correct place. One day the maintenance people came in the room to make some change in my bathroom. I had my roommate, Pepper, leave the room with me quickly, because I was certain that I was not supposed to know what they had changed in the bathroom. (Pepper was not her real name, but as it took her several days before she was ok with ME knowing her real name, I will call her that.)

One night I remember thinking that the earth needed to be made smaller for some reason. I remember something about some storms and thinking about shrinking the earth. When I woke up in the morning, I over-heard a conversation out in the hall. Some of the workers were commenting on how long it had used to take them to get to work compared to how long it took them now. It seemed to me more like they were amazed at the change rather than they had just moved closer to the hospital.

I spent my 47th birthday in the hospital. I remember thinking that they should have a big steak dinner for everyone (because Charlotte wanted steak) and to allow the family members to come in and eat with us, including the ones that were too young. The night before my birthday, I felt certain that they were overwhelmed with how to fulfill my request. Because of this I said something along the lines of “It is ok, you don’t have to give me a special dinner for my birthday and I don’t have to see my daughter.” (I am not sure if I said this out loud in my room or just in my head, but nobody was around to hear me say it either way.) The night of my birthday my husband and daughter came to the hospital, but they did not let my daughter in to see me. I believe that was the evening after I was that if I stood in a certain place in a certain hall that I could kind of see and talk to my daughter in the waiting area so she had come to see me as I had relayed the information to my husband. The thing that was interesting is that they did let Megan’s younger brother come in and visit with her and her parents even though he was too young. I believe they let all three in even though they were only supposed to let two in at a time, but I could be wrong on that and the parents took turns. I felt that Megan’s brother was given the exception in place of my daughter because I had removed my request to see her. I felt that it was very important for Megan to have been able to see her brother at that time. (I am surprised to find myself crying about this as I type it. Like I am receiving a spiritual witness that it is true that my decision really blessed her and her family. I would bless her all over again if I had the power to do so. I haven’t cried this hard in a long time. I have a hard time crying, but I have actual tears running down my face.)

[EndTimesBeliever]

My hospital stay is what changed my perception of reality - part 2.

The two main people that I spent time with in the hospital were Jake and Pepper. Jake reminded me of a “wizard” character on a movie I had seen. He had weird fingernails, and I think it was mainly the fingernails that triggered the similarity, but he was also blond like the character in the show. Pepper became my roommate the second full day of my stay.

I did not have a roommate in my first room, that first night and day. When they moved me to my second room, on that first day, I also didn’t have a roommate yet. They gave me the bed next to the bathroom and closest to the hall. For some reason, at one point, I didn’t want to get in my bed and wanted to nap in the other bed. I remember the worker being angry with me, when they came in and checked on me and I was in the wrong bed and they had to change the sheets for that bed. She chewed me out a bit about needing to be respectful of others’ space or something like that. I believe that I was in the room alone that night, but the next day they moved Pepper into my room. I believe that she got that privilege because she needed extra watching because she was leaving litter around the halls of the hospital.

So, that second night I was in the hospital, I was in the room across the hall from the desk and could see a portion of the desk and hear the conversations. It was rather odd, because there was a woman at the desk, pleading with the worker to let her stay at the hospital because she didn’t have a place to stay and didn’t feel safe. Why she was there makes no sense, because it wasn’t visiting hours, but if she was not already a patient then she would not have been in this part of the hospital at all unless she was visiting someone as the admission desk was in a completely different area separated off by locked doors. She was at the desk and made at least one phone call to someone to see if they could help her as the worker was saying that she couldn’t stay in the hospital. About this time, another worker came into my room to check on me. I asked this worker, while she was standing in the doorway about this woman at the desk. I said, “How much does it cost to stay here?” She replied, “It is a lot of money. Like $25/night.” I thought, “That isn’t very much money.” and so I said, “I will pay for her to be able to stay here if that will help.” After I said this, the worker changed her positioning and very clearly put her arm out in cupping shape (I don’t know which arm, but think temple) and I knew (felt/perceived) that payment fell into her hand. I was left with the impression that they would let her stay as I was willing to pay the bill.

I have always felt it strange that I never say saw that woman again. I was pretty sure that she was a black woman as I could see her standing by the desk as she talked on the phone and there were not any black patients in the hospital for the rest of my stay. I have also wondered if that is why the hospital refused to keep their word and allow me to pay as if I were in-network. I paid twice as much for my hospital stay as I would have if they had kept their word, so in effect, I did pay for two people. It was far more than $25/night though. If memory serves correctly it was more like $9,000/week.

I believe it was that next day that they gave me Pepper for my roommate. Pepper was her nick-name. Other people in the hospital already knew her real name, but she specifically told them not to tell me her name and it was personal as she said, “I don’t want HER to know my name.” I spent a lot of time with Jake and Pepper. It was very strange as they both seemed to know more about me than makes sense. They definitely were more aware of what was going on and how things worked in the hospital than I was. It also appeared that they knew each other outside of the hospital. At first I wondered if they were a couple, but Pepper’s husband came to visiting hours a day or so later, so I knew that wasn’t true. I believe that she introduced her husband to Jake, so I don’t think her husband and Jake knew each other. So, I am left to believe that they had some kind of “spiritual sense” of who people were/are in reality or Pepper was involved in things her husband didn’t know about and they really did know each other before coming to the hospital.

For the first several days, the main thing that we did together was to play UNO. It is unclear to me if I was helping them or if they were helping me. I just know that Pepper wanted to spend time with me even though she didn’t want me to know her name and Jake was there a lot of the time at least until Megan was admitted and Pepper and I spent a lot of time with her. UNO made me very dizzy, because, as you know, the game goes in a circle and the direction of the circle continually changes due to “Reverse” cards. I was certain that we were playing UNO to unwind all my pendulum use and free me from that, as when I used the pendulum the circle going in one direction meant “yes” and the circle reversing and going in the other direction meant “no.” It was really hard on me to play the game and took a lot of concentration on my part to remember which direction we were going and whose turn it was. I had the clear impression that both Jake and Pepper had the ability to count cards and to stack the deck in their favor and were not above cheating. I also felt that one or both of them where attacking me and making things harder for me. Several times I felt extra dizzy and light headed and like I couldn’t keep playing, but then the feeling would pass and we would move on, but one time, it was very severe and I said, “I don’t know who is doing this to me, but I can’t help you if you keep doing this to me. I am more than happy to help you, but I can’t, if you keep attacking me.” I felt really bad for several minutes and put my head down on the table. Pepper ran off to get one of the workers to help me, but I felt reasonably well by the time they got back. I don’t believe that they attacked me again after that at least if they did; it wasn’t as severe and noticeable.

After several days of playing UNO we also started playing Sorry. I know for a time, I forgot the rules of getting into home and subsequently went around the board a few more times that I would have had to. I am not sure that everyone plays by the same rules, but eventually we talked about the rules and I realized that I could have finished earlier based on those rules. I know that the game played a role into when we were each able to be released and go home from the hospital, as Jake said to me at one point in the game, “You aren’t going to let any of us go home before you do, are you?” And I replied, “You can go home before me, Jake.” He won the game and was released from the hospital before I was. Pepper came in last, and was released after I was. When Megan was admitted into the hospital and started playing games with us, she was really struck by how I am not “cut-throat” when playing games. She said that in her family they were always “cut-throat” and that they would cheat to win; that she had never played a game with anyone that was nice and tried to help everyone have fun and enjoy the game. It was this trait of mine that prompted Jake to say “You are such a mother, EndTimesBeliever.” To which I replied, “That is exactly what I am, a mother.” A mother is who I am and what I want to be. It is so hard on me to have older children that don’t really need/want me. I wish with all my heart that God would provide spouses for my children and I could have grandchildren so that my children would need me again. All I want to be now is a grandmother, and God is not allowing me to have the wish of my heart. It is so hard for me to figure out what I want to do and be if I cannot be who and what I want to be. I am really struggling to determine what the point of life is and what my purpose should be.

I am not sure where Pepper was at times, but we were not always together and I found myself alone many times in our room or the cafeteria. Once I sat on my bed and thought about the names of my children. All of my children have seven letters, three syllables, and an “r” in their name. However, the “r” doesn’t make the same sound in each of their names, because the sound of the “r” is influenced by the vowels around it. I was worried that one of my children does not have the “re” sound in their name. I sat on the edge of my bed for quite some time to stretch out the sounds in all of their names and find the spot in their names that made the exact same sound to find that they all did have at least for a short time the exact same sound in them. I felt that I had a much greater power to stretch out a sound into its infinitesimal sounds that I do in “real life.”

Another thing that I worried about was how we were going to get out of the hole that we were in. I have a brother named Douglass, and I was certain that he felt bad because he had “dug less” deep into the hole than the rest of us in our family. I was certain that it was the fact that he had “dug less” that allowed him to be able to turn around and dig us out of the pit. I really do not understand how Jake knew so often what I thought about and talked to myself about when I was alone, but one day, probably the day we were playing Sorry, he said to Pepper “We are waiting for someone to dig us out.” Why these other people in the hospital were connected to my fate and story is very unclear to me, but I am certain that Jake believed that I was exercising some kind of control over when he was going to get to leave the hospital.

My middle son was on a mission at this time, and I was very worried about him and the other missionaries being able to make it home. I recall taking my hair that fell out in the shower and wadding it up in a way that I could place it by the drain and have it stay there, but have a piece hanging down into the drain, so that there would be away from them to come home. I was also certain that I should not have a false tooth put in my mouth where I had a missing tooth, because I had to leave that space empty so that “the through could come through.” If that was a true prompting from God, then I failed that one miserably, as a few years later a dentist convinced me to put in a fake tooth, so I have a rod that was inserted into my jaw that the fake tooth connects to (I believe they call it an implant.) It has caused a fair amount of trouble since I had it put in, so I don’t think I will have one again if I ever lose another tooth, unless of course it is a front tooth that would make me look “stupid” if it was missing.

I remember being really worried about God not wanting to be God anymore. I remember thinking that as Christ will come first, after the millennium, when it is time for Heavenly Father’s presence, that we could come close to intersecting with Him, but if He really has turned evil that we could pass by without contact with Him. I remember clearly acting this out with my elbows and having them come close by but never touch and move off away from each other again. (It took me several years to get to the point where I mostly trust that Heavenly Father is a “good guy” again.) I also became sure that the Holy Ghost is tired of waiting for their body. I recall thinking that the Holy Ghost could walk away from their duties and have everything be OK if they connected the breeze of the spirit like they do with heating and air conditioning. For some reason when I was acting this out in the bathroom, I felt it necessary to clog the toilet with my washrag. The staff was not really happy with me about that.

After I did that was the second time that I remember seeing the Doctor. (I only remember talking to him once in the hall the entire time I was there.) He asked how I felt like the medicine was doing and if I was feeling OK. He also asked about where my husband was? I said, “He is here in Albuquerque.” Then he asked something along the lines of, “So you don’t think that he is coming out of the toilet?” and I said “No, he is coming from Albuquerque.” Even in my crazy state, I could not figure out why they thought I thought my husband would come through the toilet, but it did make me think that they were watching me with cameras even in places that should be private or they had some other way of knowing what I was doing and thinking.

I was very concerned about saving my family while I was in the hospital. Besides tying my sheet up in knots and protecting it as I mentioned before watching “Angry Birds” I also tied a pair of my socks up in knots. I made a knot for myself and then a knot for each of my three children and then a knot for my husband. I had to pull the knots very tight and stretch the socks out quite a bit to get enough knots. I believed that if I kept that sock tied up, that all would be well with my family. I took it home and put it in my sock drawer and kept it for a year or two. At some point, I cleaned out my sock drawer and decided that it was “crazy” to think that a tied up sock would save my family. I decided to untie the socks and throw them away. I asked my husband to help me untie them because I couldn’t undo the first knot. He untied the first knot and then I untied the rest and threw the socks away. This was done outside over our garbage can. To be honest, I have since very much regretted untying those socks as since that time both of my sons have “ripped out my heart and stamped all over it” (one worse than the other). Would they have made better life choices if I had kept the knots in the sock?

Time was really strange in the hospital. I know that as we walked the halls several different times, that I felt out of sync with the world. I think at times I was going too slowly and at other times I was going too fast and I often felt unbalanced. I felt bad that I didn’t spend too much time with Charlotte after I started spending time with Pepper, as Pepper wanted me to eat by her and would save me a place at meals, but I believe that at least once Charlotte tried to help me correct my speed and get in sync while on a walk and helped me out a few other times. I find it very strange that whenever anyone asked a worker, “What time is it?” they always answered with “It will be (time)” They never once the entire time I was in the hospital said “It is (time).” They even took the clock at the desk down for at least a day, because I know it wasn’t there when I started to become concerned about knowing what time it was.

One of the workers, the same one that said, “EndTimesBeliever, when I am at home, I walk like this.” dropped a pen lid when we were in my room. I don’t remember for sure who else was there with us, but there were three people in the room (likely the other person was the worker who would watch Pepper, Jake, I play games). Anyway, when this man dropped the pen lid, he bent over and picked it up and said something along the lines of, “Just think of it, only 39 minutes to bend over and pick up a lid.” (I am not sure on the exact time he said, but a lot longer than the few seconds that I perceived it to take.)

One time, someone asked one of the worker when we would be able to watch the next movie. He said, “I don’t know.” We were standing in front of the cafeteria door when the question was asked. I literally walked 10ish steps from there to my room door (which was right next door) and into the middle of my room when the worker called out “It is time to watch the movie.” Why it wasn’t time to watch the movie until I was standing in the middle of my room is unclear to me, but it makes absolutely no sense why the worker didn’t know the answer to when we would watch the movie 10 seconds before it was time to watch the movie unless there really was something “screwy” going on with the time that revolved around me and how long it took me to do certain things. I told my husband when I got home from the hospital that although I was only in the hospital for 8 days, that I was really there for at a minimum of a year and maybe many more years than a year because I was in such a messed up state from the possession they had to time travel me out and back each day to intersect with visiting time to give me enough time to heal.

Is it standard procedure to mess with patients’ heads in this way and joke about how long things take and never know what time it is only what time it will be? Or, did I really have a unique hospital experience?

[Wondering Wendy]

I have been lurking here for several years (my guess is 7). Over the years I have felt several times that I benefited from what was posted. Other times I have felt that I had something of value to add to the conversation. I have considered joining the forum multiple times, but have, until now, always decided not to go through with it. In part, not joining would be due to my self-conscious, perfectionist personality along with my anxiety, OCD tendencies, and being prone to addiction. Another thing holding me back was that I have lurked here long enough to be fully aware that a good many threads are derailed and deteriorate into bickering between a few individuals, limiting the good that could come from the conversation. At any rate, here I am posting; giving an honest effort to get out of my comfort zone; hoping that it is the spirit that is guiding me to do so and that I will not regret this decision.

I used to know a good many things. Now that I am in my mid-fifties, I know very little. There are few things that I would claim that I KNOW. These include: 1. There are two genders. 2. Feminism is rooted in evil and has done much to tear down individual lives as well as the world as a whole. 3. The Doctrine and Covenants changed about 7 years ago.

I am sure many will not believe the last one, but 7 years ago, before being admitted to the hospital for a week's stay, I read several chapters in the D&C. I read these chapters out load, but in a whisper, while I circled every single word, one by one, with my eyes. These chapters were about building the temple in the New Jerusalem (Missouri); what to name the buildings, where to locate the buildings, how to measure the buildings, etc. At some point after returning home from the hospital, I tried to find these chapters and they are nowhere to be found. What exactly this means, I am not sure. It may be that I was changed to a different time line, and different time lines have different scriptures. It could be that time travel is possible and that God really did give Satan the power change the past and the times. Maybe it is both of these things or other options that I haven't thought of. At any rate, I KNOW that God allowed for the scriptures to be changed, for what purpose and benefit I cannot say. I am choosing to trust in Him and believe that there is some way this works towards our good.

The reason that I am telling you this, is that I read a post a short time ago where people were discussing why the church is changing history and I have skimmed many posts where people are bickering about "the facts." I just thought to encourage you to be cautious about making firm conclusions. There are multiple things going on. Wicked people really are changing things to vilify leaders of the past, who although human were good people and did not do many of the things that are being attributed to them now. We are in the time of the unveiling where things that were hidden are coming to light, so some of the new things we are hearing and learning are true. Some people have pretended to be righteous while hiding many wicked tendencies from public view. It appears that time travel is possible and someone (person, spirit, extra-terrestrial, ?) can go back in history and change the records and that changes all the records moving forward from that point. Do you really believe that you have the ability to tell which is which in every situation? Maybe some of the things that cause heated debate should be "tabled" until Christ comes (i.e. Brigham Young did this or that. Joseph Smith did this or that.) just like most of us have come to live with the fact that we really won't know the truth about dinosaurs until after this life.

If there are multiple time lines, and different things happen on different time lines, how can we even pretend to guess which version of history will count when we are being judged? Our consciousness is here in this time line, so we must move forward with faith and effort to live righteously in the here and now and behave like this is the history/life that we will be judged on, but maybe we should leave it open to the possibility that this is not the time line that counts for all people. Maybe on a different time line they are doing much better and that is the one that counts for them. Could we all exist in multiple time lines at the same time and have at least one where we are really good and that is the one that counts? I don't know, but these are some of the things I have wondered about for the last 7 years.

I thought you might be interested in this true story written in Elliaison's book "The Atonement of Jesus Christ". The chapter linked here is titled "Scriptures that Don’t Exist". Your experience reminded me of this.

[EndTimesBeliever]

I thought you might be interested in this true story written in Elliaison's book "The Atonement of Jesus Christ". The chapter linked here is titled "Scriptures that Don’t Exist". Your experience reminded me of this.

Thanks.

When I clicked on the link I got a warning.
"This site contains potentially dangerous content that could harm your computer. We blocked it so you can continue browsing with confidence."

Is there an alternate way to see this material?

[logonbump]

I thought you might be interested in this true story written in Elliaison's book "The Atonement of Jesus Christ". The chapter linked here is titled "Scriptures that Don’t Exist". Your experience reminded me of this.

Thanks.

When I clicked on the link I got a warning.
"This site contains potentially dangerous content that could harm your computer. We blocked it so you can continue browsing with confidence."

Is there an alternate way to see this material?

That's usually just old, insecure formatting on the page. Click past the warnings with "advanced" or "proceed anyway"

[Wolfwoman]

I thought you might be interested in this true story written in Elliaison's book "The Atonement of Jesus Christ". The chapter linked here is titled "Scriptures that Don’t Exist". Your experience reminded me of this.

Thanks.

When I clicked on the link I got a warning.
"This site contains potentially dangerous content that could harm your computer. We blocked it so you can continue browsing with confidence."

Is there an alternate way to see this material?

Yeah, you can just click through and read it.
I didn’t get that warning, so I read it.
Long story short, someone read all about the day of atonement in the Bible one day when they were a missionary. Lots of detail about it. There were two goats. A Jehovah goat and an Azazel goat. The Jehovah goat was sacrificed and blood was sprinkled on the mercy seat. The Azazel goat had everyone’s sins placed on it and it was sent out to the wilderness where it would eventually die of hunger/thirst or fall off a cliff. Over the years the priests got the ordinance a little mixed up and instead of allowing the goat to die naturally or to jump off a cliff by itself, the priests began forcing it off a cliff or throwing it off a cliff. The ordinance taught us about the atonement. When the missionary woke up the next day he went to read about it in his scriptures and could not find it anywhere. He could not even find the word Azazel.

[EndTimesBeliever]

My hospital stay is what changed my perception of reality - part 3.

In my opinion, during this first hospital stay, I was “merging with the version of me that never left England.” I had an awesome English accent and talking with specific accents is definitely not a talent I have. People would ask me where I was from because of my accent and I told them that I was from here (meaning USA) and that the voice I was using was not my voice. So, although I could recognize it was not mine, I could not find mine for about a week. I did not feel ready to go home until I could talk in my own voice and know that I sounded like myself.

No worker in the hospital ever asked me about going home or if I was feeling good enough to go home. I don’t know if this is normal procedure or not, but nothing what-so-ever was said about going home until I said something about going home. For that matter, it seems like nothing was said to me about anything about home until I brought it up. The first time I called home was because I asked if I could call and have my husband bring me some of my clothes, as I hoped that they would help me find myself. It didn’t go very well because no one answered the home phone and I couldn’t remember our cell phone number. At some point I tried again and my daughter answered the home phone, so she was able to give the message to my husband to bring me some clothes and some reading materials including my scriptures. I had previously been given a version of the New Testament to read when I had asked someone at the hospital for something to read. I had begun reading it, but then a new patient had been admitted and in my discussion with her found that she really needed some reading material, and if I am remembering correctly, didn’t know a lot about God, so I handed it off to her.

I did spend some time reading my scriptures while I was in the hospital, but I remember being very concerned about the Old Testament. I didn’t write much in the journal that I wrote while I was in the hospital and when I first got home, but I did write that one of my goals was to “read the scriptures daily, but never read the Old Testament again!” I don’t understand the reasoning now, but I think it had to do with it mentioning animals and my firm belief that animals should not be allowed to progress with us to the celestial kingdom (they are not are equals and we don’t want to taint our DNA with merging with them). Maybe it was also because it was the “old law” that was done away with and we need to live the “new law.” I also remember thinking that the scriptures could be “tweaked” in the different dimensions in small ways that would be imperceptible to most people and that experimenting in that way could help determine “what was best.” Along this line I also thought it would be good to set up the different dimensions in different ways so we could have “proof of what system works best;” in some dimensions men would be “in charge” and have the Priesthood, in others “women would run the show,” and maybe in others it could be a combination and then we would know which system worked better for the overall benefit of mankind.

I remember really wanting a piece of paper that was white on one side and black on the other. I do not recall exactly what I wanted if for, but I think it had something to do with the scriptures and I asked at the desk if they could find me some. I never did get any paper, but I believe I saw pictures in my mind on both backgrounds. The ones that stand out better in my memory are very detailed on a white background. I thought about this when marc posted this picture. (I was hoping the picture would show up with me quoting him, but it is not showing in my preview. Sorry, I haven't learned how to do pictures yet.)

This is what I recently shared on Facebook:

apple.jpg

A Fb friend shared this image and replied with a 5. Others also said they cannot or do not visualize anything. Being highly visual, I'm a 1. I can move an apple around in my mind and see all the details.

I would say that most of my life I have been a 5 on this scale. The first experience that I am aware of my actually seeing images in my mind’s eye was when I "went crazy" the first time. Like I mentioned in one of my posts, I saw the different colors of light merging together to make the white light. I also remember seeing a lot of detailed drawings move through my mind while I was in the hospital. I could not control what I saw, but at times I saw images when I closed my eyes even though I was awake, which was/is not normal for me. The pictures were vibrant and in color, but I believe each picture was drawn all in one color and many of them were animals.

Side Note: I have noticed some changes in this area since doing sound healing with tuning forks over the last three years. Sometimes when I close my eyes now I see images, like the other day I saw bunny rabbits when I closed my eyes during a prayer, but I have no ability to control when I will see things and what I will see. I have received what I believe others in “energy healing” call "downloads" when I am sleeping. For instance, once I saw two columns of pictures scrolling very fast through many different very detailed drawings. They moved way faster than I could identify the images, although I could identify some of them. I am not sure the benefit of these "downloads," but other than startling me because they are more detailed and vivid than my dreaming, I haven't noticed them doing me any harm. I am not opposed to being able to learn to visualize things if that is a skill that can be developed or an ability that can be unlocked.

I am addicted to Savex, so I also asked my husband to bring me my “lip stuff.” We had a box of it at home and I asked him to bring the entire box, so that I could share with the other patients. He brought them, but the hospital would not let us use them. I am not sure how I spread that word to everyone that I needed and wanted Chap Stick, but I know that as soon as I made it known, there were a lot of other patients that were asking for it as well. So, they had the doctor write a prescription for Chap Stick for everyone, so I eventually stopped suffering from dry lips. The down side (besides it not being as good as Savex) was that we were still not allowed to keep it with us; we had to go to the desk and ask for our Chap Stick in order to use it. (They had them labeled and kept them in a small basket at the desk.)

The hospital workers seemed to need to be prompted in a lot of ways. When I checked out of the hospital, I still had the wrist band that they put on me at the Emergency Room; I guess because I never asked about it, they never bothered to put the correct wrist band on for the hospital I was in. It seemed to me that when I would ask a question that it would “wake up” some of the workers. It seemed like they were startled out of a stupor when I talked with them and they would have to blink and think for a bit before they could respond (even when they had just carried out a coherent conversation with another worker). I don’t know if their consciousness was just in a different time-line and they had to come to my time-line in order to talk with me, if they were whatever that term is for characters in a computer game that aren’t the main characters and only have a few lines ascribe to them, but never say them unless you interact with them, or if there was some other explanation, but it was really weird. I couldn’t figure out how they were able to keep their jobs when I knew a lot more about what needed to be done than they did. The one I remember most clearly in this manner was the lady that was in charge of communication between the patient and the family in order for them to get to go home.

Sometimes the workers eyes would move back and forth very quickly when I talked them, similar to how my bishop’s eyes had behaved a few days before I went to the hospital. One time in particular that is clear in my memory was when a nurse came in and talked with me about why I was in the hospital. She was completely normal and asking me questions about why I was there and what I had done to lead me to being in the hospital. I told her about all the essential oils and vitamins that I had taken. She seemed to believe that the “toxicity” of that helped play a role in my mental state. But when she implied that the “overdose” of essential oils and vitamins put me in the hospital, I said, “It is a good thing I did that though, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” One thing that this story points out is that I was certain that my being in the hospital was “essential” for some reason and a real part of God’s plan for me. In some ways I was glad I was there and felt I was fulfilling some “higher purpose” that could not be filled in any other way. But one thing this experience showed me was that there truly was something strange going on with my hospital stay, because as soon as I said that phrase, her eyes went “wacky” and started going back and forth very quickly and she seemed to need to get her bearings to continue on the conversation.

Each day we would go to group meetings to help us set goals. One day at one of the meetings, one of the workers over the session asked the group about what treat they wanted the next day and someone said Rice Crispy Treats. I don’t know if I said something about hating the store-bought kind or if there was some other reason that she specifically talked to me about it. She said that she had never made them before and didn’t know how to make them. So, I wrote out the recipe for her. I thought it was very strange that a woman that was at least my age would not know how to make Rice Crispy Treats. She did make them the next day and talked with me about the experience of making them. She had had to use the microwave because they didn’t have a big enough pot or something like that. They turned out fine, but not as good as they would have on the stove top. I am pretty sure I told her that they had to be made with real butter (margarine absolutely ruins the flavor!)

Like I said, I thought it was really strange that she wouldn’t know how to make Rice Crispy Treats or how to find out about how to make them except through me, but the stranger thing was that the next day or so later, when coming out of the meeting, there were some people talking in the hall. It must have been another employee of the hospital that was talking because she was not a patient. Anyways, this other grown woman said something very similar to, “Today I made the first sandwich I have ever made.” She sounded proud of herself, her accomplishment, and her learning. How can you be a grown woman and have never made a sandwich before in your life? How can you have a job working in a hospital and never have made a sandwich before? Why if you have a job at a hospital are you learning to make sandwiches as part of your job, if you are not working in the cafeteria? So many strange things.

From the beginning of my hospital stay, I really wanted to do what was “right.” I am sure I was trying to “repent” from the “unpardonable sin” that the Devil had told me that I had committed and hoping that I could somehow earn a better place than Hell even though I had missed “Supper” and not qualifies for exhalation. I am sure it is because I flooded the bathroom that first time I took a shower, but I recall one of the workers watching me in the bathroom after I was transferred into my new room. Because she was there and prompted me to finish up and wipe, (maybe I was in one of my exceedingly slow moving periods), I asked her “How do I do that?” So, she explained her method (I had just gone #1) and I followed her instructions. Soon, they stopped watching me in the bathroom, but when I asked for a raiser to shave my legs, she had to come in the bathroom and watch me again. I put a towel around myself and sat on the toilet and used the sink to shave the bottom half of my legs while she watched. As soon as I was done, she took the raiser and left and I finished my shower. It sure seemed to me that I had an influence on the other patients with whatever I decided to do; walking around with containers of water, using Chap Stick, asking for their water temp in the shower to be turned up because they knew I had hot water, wearing socks, using ear plugs, etc. I know I told at least one other patient what they needed to do in order to shave their legs.

I also influenced Pepper to help me clean up the cafeteria after meals. I am not sure if they just didn’t have enough employees, or if their employees just weren’t good at their jobs, but after a day or two, I noticed that the cafeteria didn’t get cleaned up between meals. So, I started to clean up after the meals before I went back to my room, or I come back after everyone had left, since I was right next door, if others were slow to eat. I would throw away the trash and wipe off the tables and the counters. Like I said, Pepper helped me with the cleaning some of the time. One day we organized the game cabinet. I am pretty sure by the time I left, I (we) had wiped out all the different cupboards and wipe off all the appliances. One day, in between meals, I was all alone in the cafeteria and decided to wash one of the walls. As I washed the wall, I tried to figure out what percentage of “goodness” would get you into each of the degrees of glory. So, I used the wall and my washing to “make a graph” of the requirements for each. I used my ear plugs to “make a similar graph” on my fitted sheet one day as spent time alone in my room on my bed. The hospital had given me yellow ear plugs to use, but I think that I worked all the color out of my ear plug from all the rubbing of it against my sheet as I tried to figure out the criteria and reworked the problem over and over again when I changed my mind. Like I said in a previous post, I am not 100% on the numbers I picked for the cut-offs except for getting out of Hell. That number was .0132% or greater desire to follow Christ, but I don’t think I graphed that part. I remember lying on my stomach and banging my leg on the bed as I said the number. I felt like I was broadcasting it to all the other patients in the hospital to give them encouragement to put their lives in order and move forward; giving them hope that Hell did not have to be their fate if they didn’t want it to be. I believe in my mind that there was also a connection that the hospital was Hell, and that they would be able to leave the hospital, go home and try for better results if they felt like they wanted to at least .0132%. I don’t know if it was just coincidence or not, but soon after I made that “decision” one of the two sisters decided to go home. I know that there had been some conversations about her going home as she was in good enough condition to go home, but she had refused because she didn’t want to or was scared to. But like I said, she did decide to go home soon after I made this decision and sent out a message “Who doesn’t think they want to try at least that much?”

In the realm of wanting to be obedient, I remember being told to stay in my bed, probably because I had been in the wrong bed earlier, but because I knew I wasn’t supposed to leave my bed, when someone came in to give me a shot that second night when I was in my new room, I envisioned putting a “peg” from my elbow to the bed, so that when I moved my arm out so they could give me the shot, I would still be effectively completely connected to the bed. I had been pretty coherent that day, but that evening I was really out of it. It was another time that I could not see anything, but could hear and have a conversation. (Again, I don’t know for certain if at those times I just had my eyes closed or if I really couldn’t see anything.) Anyway, I know that someone came in and asked me if they could give me a shot and I said that they could, but I have absolutely no understanding of what that shot was or what it was for, as the medication they gave me while I was there was a pill that they had me take with breakfast. As far as I know, that is the only shot I received while I was there.

But I also remember needing to go to the bathroom and being really worried that they would be mad at me for leaving my bed. Those first several nights we had to have our bedroom door open so they could keep an eye on us, so I was worried that if the nurse was at the desk she would see me leave the bed. (I am not sure if this was the same night as the shot, just closer to morning or the next night.) At any rate, I put another “peg” in the bed to attach me to it, so that I would technically be in my bed as again I envisioned some kind of stretching connection between the “peg” and me. I went to the bathroom and then came right back to bed and was very glad to have not been found out and gotten into trouble again.

Along the lines of others being aware of my “higher-self,” one thing I forgot to mention when I wrote about that before was that I was certain that I was not really suppose to hear and know things that were going on, so I would leave the room quickly if I thought something might be revealed to me that I shouldn’t know. This was during the time between Trump being elected and taking office, so there were a lot of things going on in the news about it. Once the TV said, “She says she is President” and I was certain that for some reason somewhere my “higher-self” was demanding and insisting that I was president, but that I wasn’t supposed to really know about that so, I left the room quickly before I could learn more. It didn’t make much sense to me even in my crazy state. How could I ever think I was president or want to be president? But it felt like it was real at the time even though the notion of it felt as crazy as the notion that I had actually written and produced many movies that I wrote about earlier.

Along the lines of people caring about me and my opinions and watching me, one thing I didn’t mention before was Pepper’s tattoo. When we were in some meeting, which was in the room where I heard the TV talk about Trump, a different room than the room where we held the goal meetings and watched movies, I was sitting by Pepper and noticed the tattoo above her left ankle. She very closely watched my reaction when she explained that it was of two lesbians kissing. It seemed to really matter to her what I thought. Interestingly enough I didn’t feel any condemnation towards her for it. I definitely didn’t react in horror or turn away from her after that, but I do remembering being confused why a married woman with a child would pick to have a tattoo like that.

The first time my husband came and visited me in the hospital, I was in a very good mood and excited to see him. I “flitted into the room” and danced around a bit. It was fun to watch his interpretation of me when we went to Utah for his nieces wedding and we told my sister and her husband about it. Anyway, my husband couldn’t visit every day at visiting hours. (He must have been working evenings at this point or else it was when he was an assistant manager and always overworking. I am not sure and haven’t taken the time to figure that out.) But, the point is that he couldn’t come each day and the RS President had asked him for a list of names of people that I would be willing to have come and visit me. I told him to tell her that I would allow the Bishop, my ministering companion (or was it VT in 2016?), a prior RS president that I was ministering too, and my two friends in the ward that I actually really felt like were friends, NOT on the list was the RS president that had mistreated me. Like I mentioned before, the Bishop brought his wife with when he visited even though she wasn’t on the list either. But, it was nice to have it arranged that I had someone to come and visit me each day during visiting hours.

I thought it was interesting when I got out of the hospital and learned that the RS had provided meals for my family at least a couple of times while I was in the hospital, but that they had done so in secret. Anyway, the RS president felt that she had to keep it secret who was in the hospital. She just said, “Someone is in the hospital can you bring their family a meal?” and she had them drop it off to her and then she brought it over. I found this out because I asked her who I needed to thank for the meals. One lady that I thanked knew it was me that was in the hospital because she was in the bell choir with my daughter and me and had to pick my daughter up and take her to the practices and the performances while I was out of commission. But, I remember when I went to thank another sister that she was totally shocked that it was my family that she had provided dinner for. (I don’t know if that is because I come across put together or if that was because my husband was in the bishopric at the time.) It made me wonder though, am I supposed to be embarrassed the rest of my life that I had mental health challenges? Sure there is no reason for others to spread the news far and wide, but my RS presidents feeling that she had to ask people to do me a favor in secret made me feel that I am suppose to be ashamed. But I have already learned that felling ashamed and keeping things secret doesn’t allow for healing to take place. I had already forgiven those who had sexually abused me in my childhood, but it was not until I publically shared that I had been abused with my RS sisters that I really began to process the emotions of shame surrounding it and start healing. Feeling ashamed of my mental health challenges and keeping them to myself doesn’t allow me heal, doesn’t allow me to share what I have learned with others, and doesn’t help me serve others and help them through similar situations.

I have found however, that most people don’t like to talk to me about “the time I was crazy.” Even those that knew all about it at the time really don’t feel comfortable with my discussing what I went through. It seems to make them feel uncomfortable. I am not sure if it is because they think I should be ashamed and keep my mouth shut, or if it is just that it is a hard topic and it makes them uncomfortable because they have no idea what to do or say to help. But not talking about it doesn’t allow for me to process it and heal from it. Also, this experience was one of the major events of my life and life-altering in many ways. How can I truly share of myself and help others understand where I am coming from if I have to leave out “the biggest event” of my life in all discussions?

People’s reactions to me when I bring up “the time I was crazy” is very similar to people’s reactions to me bringing up the fact that I home-schooled. When I was a young mother and would go on play dates with the other young mothers in the ward, I would sit and listen to them talk about everything that was going on in their lives which often included what was going on with their children in public school. Most often, if I started to talk about what was going on in my life I was shut down, no one wanted to hear it. They seemed incapable of realizing that I was just sharing what was going on in my life, like they had just shared with me. I didn’t say to them, “Why are you pushing public school at me?” I listened to what they were going through with interest and often compassion, but they didn’t ever seem to reciprocate. (If my whole entire life revolves around home-schooling, how can I share what is going on with me without mentioning home-schooling?) Nope, they couldn’t handle me bring it up. If I did, I was “forcing home-schooling on them” and/or “judging them for not home-schooling.” It was very aggravating. I wanted to yell at them, “If you feel guilty for not following the promptings God sent you to home-school, it is not me that is projecting that onto you!” I have never thought, nor said, “home-schooling is right for everyone regardless of their situation.” All I was seeking for was for true friendship where you both can share thoughts and opinions and where you both take turns sharing and talking. For me, that is truly hard to find.

I am uncertain how many have actually read my long posts, but I am thankful for the opportunity and prompting to write about my experience as if someone is actually reading my posts and caring about me. It has helped me process things and notice a few things that were alluding me before. I have noticed that my thoughts about this experience are not quite as prominent in my head now that I have finally written about them. I guess that is because now they are written down, I do not have to remember them. I plan to write about the lead up to my second “crazy” event and what happened with that in the near future. Most of my clearest memories are from during the times I was crazy and I have tried to be thorough and honest in what happened, but when I talk about those times, I sometimes get what happened the first time confused with what happened the second time. I believe that I got that sorted out correctly in my writings. I believe that I have covered all the “important” things that happened with my first “crazy” experience as well as all the “embarrassing” things that happened during that time. We’ll see if anything else comes to mind as I continue to search for answers as to why it all happened and what I was supposed to learn from the experience.

[Cruiserdude]

My hospital stay is what changed my perception of reality - part 3.

In my opinion, during this first hospital stay, I was “merging with the version of me that never left England.” I had an awesome English accent and talking with specific accents is definitely not a talent I have. People would ask me where I was from because of my accent and I told them that I was from here (meaning USA) and that the voice I was using was not my voice. So, although I could recognize it was not mine, I could not find mine for about a week. I did not feel ready to go home until I could talk in my own voice and know that I sounded like myself.

No worker in the hospital ever asked me about going home or if I was feeling good enough to go home. I don’t know if this is normal procedure or not, but nothing what-so-ever was said about going home until I said something about going home. For that matter, it seems like nothing was said to me about anything about home until I brought it up. The first time I called home was because I asked if I could call and have my husband bring me some of my clothes, as I hoped that they would help me find myself. It didn’t go very well because no one answered the home phone and I couldn’t remember our cell phone number. At some point I tried again and my daughter answered the home phone, so she was able to give the message to my husband to bring me some clothes and some reading materials including my scriptures. I had previously been given a version of the New Testament to read when I had asked someone at the hospital for something to read. I had begun reading it, but then a new patient had been admitted and in my discussion with her found that she really needed some reading material, and if I am remembering correctly, didn’t know a lot about God, so I handed it off to her.

I did spend some time reading my scriptures while I was in the hospital, but I remember being very concerned about the Old Testament. I didn’t write much in the journal that I wrote while I was in the hospital and when I first got home, but I did write that one of my goals was to “read the scriptures daily, but never read the Old Testament again!” I don’t understand the reasoning now, but I think it had to do with it mentioning animals and my firm belief that animals should not be allowed to progress with us to the celestial kingdom (they are not are equals and we don’t want to taint our DNA with merging with them). Maybe it was also because it was the “old law” that was done away with and we need to live the “new law.” I also remember thinking that the scriptures could be “tweaked” in the different dimensions in small ways that would be imperceptible to most people and that experimenting in that way could help determine “what was best.” Along this line I also thought it would be good to set up the different dimensions in different ways so we could have “proof of what system works best;” in some dimensions men would be “in charge” and have the Priesthood, in others “women would run the show,” and maybe in others it could be a combination and then we would know which system worked better for the overall benefit of mankind.

I remember really wanting a piece of paper that was white on one side and black on the other. I do not recall exactly what I wanted if for, but I think it had something to do with the scriptures and I asked at the desk if they could find me some. I never did get any paper, but I believe I saw pictures in my mind on both backgrounds. The ones that stand out better in my memory are very detailed on a white background. I thought about this when marc posted this picture. (I was hoping the picture would show up with me quoting him, but it is not showing in my preview. Sorry, I haven't learned how to do pictures yet.)

This is what I recently shared on Facebook:

apple.jpg

A Fb friend shared this image and replied with a 5. Others also said they cannot or do not visualize anything. Being highly visual, I'm a 1. I can move an apple around in my mind and see all the details.

I would say that most of my life I have been a 5 on this scale. The first experience that I am aware of my actually seeing images in my mind’s eye was when I "went crazy" the first time. Like I mentioned in one of my posts, I saw the different colors of light merging together to make the white light. I also remember seeing a lot of detailed drawings move through my mind while I was in the hospital. I could not control what I saw, but at times I saw images when I closed my eyes even though I was awake, which was/is not normal for me. The pictures were vibrant and in color, but I believe each picture was drawn all in one color and many of them were animals.

Side Note: I have noticed some changes in this area since doing sound healing with tuning forks over the last three years. Sometimes when I close my eyes now I see images, like the other day I saw bunny rabbits when I closed my eyes during a prayer, but I have no ability to control when I will see things and what I will see. I have received what I believe others in “energy healing” call "downloads" when I am sleeping. For instance, once I saw two columns of pictures scrolling very fast through many different very detailed drawings. They moved way faster than I could identify the images, although I could identify some of them. I am not sure the benefit of these "downloads," but other than startling me because they are more detailed and vivid than my dreaming, I haven't noticed them doing me any harm. I am not opposed to being able to learn to visualize things if that is a skill that can be developed or an ability that can be unlocked.

I am addicted to Savex, so I also asked my husband to bring me my “lip stuff.” We had a box of it at home and I asked him to bring the entire box, so that I could share with the other patients. He brought them, but the hospital would not let us use them. I am not sure how I spread that word to everyone that I needed and wanted Chap Stick, but I know that as soon as I made it known, there were a lot of other patients that were asking for it as well. So, they had the doctor write a prescription for Chap Stick for everyone, so I eventually stopped suffering from dry lips. The down side (besides it not being as good as Savex) was that we were still not allowed to keep it with us; we had to go to the desk and ask for our Chap Stick in order to use it. (They had them labeled and kept them in a small basket at the desk.)

The hospital workers seemed to need to be prompted in a lot of ways. When I checked out of the hospital, I still had the wrist band that they put on me at the Emergency Room; I guess because I never asked about it, they never bothered to put the correct wrist band on for the hospital I was in. It seemed to me that when I would ask a question that it would “wake up” some of the workers. It seemed like they were startled out of a stupor when I talked with them and they would have to blink and think for a bit before they could respond (even when they had just carried out a coherent conversation with another worker). I don’t know if their consciousness was just in a different time-line and they had to come to my time-line in order to talk with me, if they were whatever that term is for characters in a computer game that aren’t the main characters and only have a few lines ascribe to them, but never say them unless you interact with them, or if there was some other explanation, but it was really weird. I couldn’t figure out how they were able to keep their jobs when I knew a lot more about what needed to be done than they did. The one I remember most clearly in this manner was the lady that was in charge of communication between the patient and the family in order for them to get to go home.

Sometimes the workers eyes would move back and forth very quickly when I talked them, similar to how my bishop’s eyes had behaved a few days before I went to the hospital. One time in particular that is clear in my memory was when a nurse came in and talked with me about why I was in the hospital. She was completely normal and asking me questions about why I was there and what I had done to lead me to being in the hospital. I told her about all the essential oils and vitamins that I had taken. She seemed to believe that the “toxicity” of that helped play a role in my mental state. But when she implied that the “overdose” of essential oils and vitamins put me in the hospital, I said, “It is a good thing I did that though, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” One thing that this story points out is that I was certain that my being in the hospital was “essential” for some reason and a real part of God’s plan for me. In some ways I was glad I was there and felt I was fulfilling some “higher purpose” that could not be filled in any other way. But one thing this experience showed me was that there truly was something strange going on with my hospital stay, because as soon as I said that phrase, her eyes went “wacky” and started going back and forth very quickly and she seemed to need to get her bearings to continue on the conversation.

Each day we would go to group meetings to help us set goals. One day at one of the meetings, one of the workers over the session asked the group about what treat they wanted the next day and someone said Rice Crispy Treats. I don’t know if I said something about hating the store-bought kind or if there was some other reason that she specifically talked to me about it. She said that she had never made them before and didn’t know how to make them. So, I wrote out the recipe for her. I thought it was very strange that a woman that was at least my age would not know how to make Rice Crispy Treats. She did make them the next day and talked with me about the experience of making them. She had had to use the microwave because they didn’t have a big enough pot or something like that. They turned out fine, but not as good as they would have on the stove top. I am pretty sure I told her that they had to be made with real butter (margarine absolutely ruins the flavor!)

Like I said, I thought it was really strange that she wouldn’t know how to make Rice Crispy Treats or how to find out about how to make them except through me, but the stranger thing was that the next day or so later, when coming out of the meeting, there were some people talking in the hall. It must have been another employee of the hospital that was talking because she was not a patient. Anyways, this other grown woman said something very similar to, “Today I made the first sandwich I have ever made.” She sounded proud of herself, her accomplishment, and her learning. How can you be a grown woman and have never made a sandwich before in your life? How can you have a job working in a hospital and never have made a sandwich before? Why if you have a job at a hospital are you learning to make sandwiches as part of your job, if you are not working in the cafeteria? So many strange things.

From the beginning of my hospital stay, I really wanted to do what was “right.” I am sure I was trying to “repent” from the “unpardonable sin” that the Devil had told me that I had committed and hoping that I could somehow earn a better place than Hell even though I had missed “Supper” and not qualifies for exhalation. I am sure it is because I flooded the bathroom that first time I took a shower, but I recall one of the workers watching me in the bathroom after I was transferred into my new room. Because she was there and prompted me to finish up and wipe, (maybe I was in one of my exceedingly slow moving periods), I asked her “How do I do that?” So, she explained her method (I had just gone #1) and I followed her instructions. Soon, they stopped watching me in the bathroom, but when I asked for a raiser to shave my legs, she had to come in the bathroom and watch me again. I put a towel around myself and sat on the toilet and used the sink to shave the bottom half of my legs while she watched. As soon as I was done, she took the raiser and left and I finished my shower. It sure seemed to me that I had an influence on the other patients with whatever I decided to do; walking around with containers of water, using Chap Stick, asking for their water temp in the shower to be turned up because they knew I had hot water, wearing socks, using ear plugs, etc. I know I told at least one other patient what they needed to do in order to shave their legs.

I also influenced Pepper to help me clean up the cafeteria after meals. I am not sure if they just didn’t have enough employees, or if their employees just weren’t good at their jobs, but after a day or two, I noticed that the cafeteria didn’t get cleaned up between meals. So, I started to clean up after the meals before I went back to my room, or I come back after everyone had left, since I was right next door, if others were slow to eat. I would throw away the trash and wipe off the tables and the counters. Like I said, Pepper helped me with the cleaning some of the time. One day we organized the game cabinet. I am pretty sure by the time I left, I (we) had wiped out all the different cupboards and wipe off all the appliances. One day, in between meals, I was all alone in the cafeteria and decided to wash one of the walls. As I washed the wall, I tried to figure out what percentage of “goodness” would get you into each of the degrees of glory. So, I used the wall and my washing to “make a graph” of the requirements for each. I used my ear plugs to “make a similar graph” on my fitted sheet one day as spent time alone in my room on my bed. The hospital had given me yellow ear plugs to use, but I think that I worked all the color out of my ear plug from all the rubbing of it against my sheet as I tried to figure out the criteria and reworked the problem over and over again when I changed my mind. Like I said in a previous post, I am not 100% on the numbers I picked for the cut-offs except for getting out of Hell. That number was .0132% or greater desire to follow Christ, but I don’t think I graphed that part. I remember lying on my stomach and banging my leg on the bed as I said the number. I felt like I was broadcasting it to all the other patients in the hospital to give them encouragement to put their lives in order and move forward; giving them hope that Hell did not have to be their fate if they didn’t want it to be. I believe in my mind that there was also a connection that the hospital was Hell, and that they would be able to leave the hospital, go home and try for better results if they felt like they wanted to at least .0132%. I don’t know if it was just coincidence or not, but soon after I made that “decision” one of the two sisters decided to go home. I know that there had been some conversations about her going home as she was in good enough condition to go home, but she had refused because she didn’t want to or was scared to. But like I said, she did decide to go home soon after I made this decision and sent out a message “Who doesn’t think they want to try at least that much?”

In the realm of wanting to be obedient, I remember being told to stay in my bed, probably because I had been in the wrong bed earlier, but because I knew I wasn’t supposed to leave my bed, when someone came in to give me a shot that second night when I was in my new room, I envisioned putting a “peg” from my elbow to the bed, so that when I moved my arm out so they could give me the shot, I would still be effectively completely connected to the bed. I had been pretty coherent that day, but that evening I was really out of it. It was another time that I could not see anything, but could hear and have a conversation. (Again, I don’t know for certain if at those times I just had my eyes closed or if I really couldn’t see anything.) Anyway, I know that someone came in and asked me if they could give me a shot and I said that they could, but I have absolutely no understanding of what that shot was or what it was for, as the medication they gave me while I was there was a pill that they had me take with breakfast. As far as I know, that is the only shot I received while I was there.

But I also remember needing to go to the bathroom and being really worried that they would be mad at me for leaving my bed. Those first several nights we had to have our bedroom door open so they could keep an eye on us, so I was worried that if the nurse was at the desk she would see me leave the bed. (I am not sure if this was the same night as the shot, just closer to morning or the next night.) At any rate, I put another “peg” in the bed to attach me to it, so that I would technically be in my bed as again I envisioned some kind of stretching connection between the “peg” and me. I went to the bathroom and then came right back to bed and was very glad to have not been found out and gotten into trouble again.

Along the lines of others being aware of my “higher-self,” one thing I forgot to mention when I wrote about that before was that I was certain that I was not really suppose to hear and know things that were going on, so I would leave the room quickly if I thought something might be revealed to me that I shouldn’t know. This was during the time between Trump being elected and taking office, so there were a lot of things going on in the news about it. Once the TV said, “She says she is President” and I was certain that for some reason somewhere my “higher-self” was demanding and insisting that I was president, but that I wasn’t supposed to really know about that so, I left the room quickly before I could learn more. It didn’t make much sense to me even in my crazy state. How could I ever think I was president or want to be president? But it felt like it was real at the time even though the notion of it felt as crazy as the notion that I had actually written and produced many movies that I wrote about earlier.

Along the lines of people caring about me and my opinions and watching me, one thing I didn’t mention before was Pepper’s tattoo. When we were in some meeting, which was in the room where I heard the TV talk about Trump, a different room than the room where we held the goal meetings and watched movies, I was sitting by Pepper and noticed the tattoo above her left ankle. She very closely watched my reaction when she explained that it was of two lesbians kissing. It seemed to really matter to her what I thought. Interestingly enough I didn’t feel any condemnation towards her for it. I definitely didn’t react in horror or turn away from her after that, but I do remembering being confused why a married woman with a child would pick to have a tattoo like that.

The first time my husband came and visited me in the hospital, I was in a very good mood and excited to see him. I “flitted into the room” and danced around a bit. It was fun to watch his interpretation of me when we went to Utah for his nieces wedding and we told my sister and her husband about it. Anyway, my husband couldn’t visit every day at visiting hours. (He must have been working evenings at this point or else it was when he was an assistant manager and always overworking. I am not sure and haven’t taken the time to figure that out.) But, the point is that he couldn’t come each day and the RS President had asked him for a list of names of people that I would be willing to have come and visit me. I told him to tell her that I would allow the Bishop, my ministering companion (or was it VT in 2016?), a prior RS president that I was ministering too, and my two friends in the ward that I actually really felt like were friends, NOT on the list was the RS president that had mistreated me. Like I mentioned before, the Bishop brought his wife with when he visited even though she wasn’t on the list either. But, it was nice to have it arranged that I had someone to come and visit me each day during visiting hours.

I thought it was interesting when I got out of the hospital and learned that the RS had provided meals for my family at least a couple of times while I was in the hospital, but that they had done so in secret. Anyway, the RS president felt that she had to keep it secret who was in the hospital. She just said, “Someone is in the hospital can you bring their family a meal?” and she had them drop it off to her and then she brought it over. I found this out because I asked her who I needed to thank for the meals. One lady that I thanked knew it was me that was in the hospital because she was in the bell choir with my daughter and me and had to pick my daughter up and take her to the practices and the performances while I was out of commission. But, I remember when I went to thank another sister that she was totally shocked that it was my family that she had provided dinner for. (I don’t know if that is because I come across put together or if that was because my husband was in the bishopric at the time.) It made me wonder though, am I supposed to be embarrassed the rest of my life that I had mental health challenges? Sure there is no reason for others to spread the news far and wide, but my RS presidents feeling that she had to ask people to do me a favor in secret made me feel that I am suppose to be ashamed. But I have already learned that felling ashamed and keeping things secret doesn’t allow for healing to take place. I had already forgiven those who had sexually abused me in my childhood, but it was not until I publically shared that I had been abused with my RS sisters that I really began to process the emotions of shame surrounding it and start healing. Feeling ashamed of my mental health challenges and keeping them to myself doesn’t allow me heal, doesn’t allow me to share what I have learned with others, and doesn’t help me serve others and help them through similar situations.

I have found however, that most people don’t like to talk to me about “the time I was crazy.” Even those that knew all about it at the time really don’t feel comfortable with my discussing what I went through. It seems to make them feel uncomfortable. I am not sure if it is because they think I should be ashamed and keep my mouth shut, or if it is just that it is a hard topic and it makes them uncomfortable because they have no idea what to do or say to help. But not talking about it doesn’t allow for me to process it and heal from it. Also, this experience was one of the major events of my life and life-altering in many ways. How can I truly share of myself and help others understand where I am coming from if I have to leave out “the biggest event” of my life in all discussions?

People’s reactions to me when I bring up “the time I was crazy” is very similar to people’s reactions to me bringing up the fact that I home-schooled. When I was a young mother and would go on play dates with the other young mothers in the ward, I would sit and listen to them talk about everything that was going on in their lives which often included what was going on with their children in public school. Most often, if I started to talk about what was going on in my life I was shut down, no one wanted to hear it. They seemed incapable of realizing that I was just sharing what was going on in my life, like they had just shared with me. I didn’t say to them, “Why are you pushing public school at me?” I listened to what they were going through with interest and often compassion, but they didn’t ever seem to reciprocate. (If my whole entire life revolves around home-schooling, how can I share what is going on with me without mentioning home-schooling?) Nope, they couldn’t handle me bring it up. If I did, I was “forcing home-schooling on them” and/or “judging them for not home-schooling.” It was very aggravating. I wanted to yell at them, “If you feel guilty for not following the promptings God sent you to home-school, it is not me that is projecting that onto you!” I have never thought, nor said, “home-schooling is right for everyone regardless of their situation.” All I was seeking for was for true friendship where you both can share thoughts and opinions and where you both take turns sharing and talking. For me, that is truly hard to find.

I am uncertain how many have actually read my long posts, but I am thankful for the opportunity and prompting to write about my experience as if someone is actually reading my posts and caring about me. It has helped me process things and notice a few things that were alluding me before. I have noticed that my thoughts about this experience are not quite as prominent in my head now that I have finally written about them. I guess that is because now they are written down, I do not have to remember them. I plan to write about the lead up to my second “crazy” event and what happened with that in the near future. Most of my clearest memories are from during the times I was crazy and I have tried to be thorough and honest in what happened, but when I talk about those times, I sometimes get what happened the first time confused with what happened the second time. I believe that I got that sorted out correctly in my writings. I believe that I have covered all the “important” things that happened with my first “crazy” experience as well as all the “embarrassing” things that happened during that time. We’ll see if anything else comes to mind as I continue to search for answers as to why it all happened and what I was supposed to learn from the experience.

We read them
Nope, you shouldn't be embarrassed about it. My bet is that folks just think they have no idea what to say about what you're telling them when likely you're just needing to tell it to people to help you process it, just like you mentioned.

[InTheKnow]

The Mandela Effect is real and it has been around long before Mandela. And a true M.E. is not misremembering. Yes, some people do misremember things and jump on the M.E. bandwagon with false M.E. examples. And there are the naysayers that will never stop parroting that none of the M.E. claims are real. I won't respond to the naysayers because to me their opinions are absolutely worthless. That is not a dis on them. It's just that I know they are wrong. But being right or being wrong is relative to one's own experience. If one has never changed earth's (let's call it that) then there are no changes for them to ever be aware of. And not everyone that does change earth's remembers the 'old' way.

65:17 For, behold, I create new heavens and a new earth: and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind.
65:20 There shall be no more thence an infant of days, nor an old man that hath not filled his days: ...

What if we are living in that time right now? Many M.E. examples are about people that have died in the memories of M.E. experiencers only to still be alive years later. Hmm, just like Nelson Mandela and for many Dick Van Dyke is another as well as many more. Yes, some of those many are people misremembering. That is forever going to cloud the issue.

We in America back in the 80's for the most part knew nothing of South Africa. I never heard of apartheid or Nelson Mandela. I understand that politicians, media people and some universities might have been interested in the political and social conditions in South Africa at the time but the average person on the street couldn't be bothered by something so distant from their daily lives.

So how did so many people become aware of Nelson Mandela enough to later become aware of the M.E. concerning him? It is because on the earth they were on it was reported on the news that someone named Nelson Mandela died in prison from a heart attack. But it didn't end there. It blew up all over the media. It was on the television, the radio, in news papers and on the cover of weekly magazines. And it wouldn't stop. It wasn't just on one station. It was on every station. I was so sick of hearing about this guy that I had never heard of before. It went on for I'm guessing about ten days or more until the day of his funeral. The road in the cemetery was an S shape and I remember watching it fill up with cars of mostly dignitaries from other countries. Then I turned off the TV because I had no desire to watch the service or whatever was after that. After that the media coverage ended and I said "thank god that's over with".

Then in 1990 I was listening to the Art Bell Coast to Coast AM radio show and a caller came on and told Art Bell that Nelson Mandela was alive and just elected president. I didn't believe it at first. I couldn't believe it because of what I posted above.

So what is the M.E.? I think no one really dies before their time. They may die on the earth where their consciousness currently is but then they transfer to a different earth where a doppelganger of their self is still alive and they continue to live. Those people that remember Nelson Mandela dying in the 80's only for him to later still be alive died themselves and transferred to an earth where he was alive and was elected president of South Africa.

Just think for a moment. According to LDS teaching we are like God was. The Holy Spirit of God is God. The Holy Spirit can be portioned out to live within people. If we do share some attributes with God because we are as God was then we too can exist in more than one place at the same time just as God does. Dreams that seem so real like we are somewhere else experiencing a real physicality may be evidence that we do exist in more than one place at a time.