Day 624. Survivors found: 9
I was adopted when I was four years old.
Over the years, I was “treated” by attachment therapists: Nonie & Bruce Wilson in Portland, Oregon; Kathie Leah Bishop in Eugene Oregon; Tom Gill & Beverly Cuevas in Washington.
The first time it happened I was about 7 years old. No one told me what was going on.
It was a Saturday and we all went to my dad’s office and the adults went upstairs. After a while, they called me up there and there were 8 adults sitting cross-legged around my California Raisins comforter.
They told me to lay down.
When I asked why, the didn’t answer. So I laid down. Things began to happen very quickly.
Someone grabbed my foot and pinned it down, someone grabbed my other foot and did the same. Another adult grabbed an arm, someone else grabbed another arm, and this big lady put my head in her lap as my mother proceeded to lay down on top of me (facing me) and my dad laid down on top of her. Then some big burly man sat on my dad’s back.
The weight and the pressure were incredible – I could not breathe!
I was confused and asked what was going on. No one replied.
I told them it hurt, and I couldn’t breathe. No one responded.
I tried to move. They kept me pinned down.
At that point, my small body launched into full panic mode as I screamed and writhed and wiggled and tried to get free. I was terrified, and in the confusion and struggle I fully believed that I was being murdered by my own parents, slowly being suffocated to death.
I remember trying to turn my head towards the window and screaming at the top of my lungs for help, hoping that someone, anyone would pass by and rescue me or call the police.
No one came.
I knew I was dying. I did not know why they were killing me, or why they were doing it so slowly.
I begged to get up and pee. They did not let me. So I peed on myself.
I became very thirsty. I remember this like it was yesterday… I said, “don’t dying people get a last request? For my last request, may I please have a glass of water?”
They all laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. I did not understand.
Finally, after what seemed like 2 or 3 hours, I stopped fighting and just caved in. My little body was wracked with sobbing and crying. Miraculously, they let me go and got off of me. I was so relieved that I wasn’t dead, but very confused. I will never forget the feeling of sheer bliss as all that weight was removed from my body and I could move my arms and legs again.
They made me sit in my moms lap while I cried. And they explained something about attachment that I didn’t understand at the time.
All I understood was that I wasn’t dead, but my mom was responsible for the events of the last couple of hours. I hated her for it.
That was the beginning of a long, long, long hard road for me. (I still suffer from panic attacks and PTSD from this).
My parents took me to Portland once a week for this “treatment” where I eventually learned to just shut down mentally and physically and lay there for literally hours at a time while I peed on myself, threw up on myself, had my face wrapped in towels, and had big ants put on my face.
My parents switched therapists when I was about 12 years old and I began seeing Kathie in Eugene. Kathie worked in conjunction with Tom Gill and Beverly Cuevas.
I don’t know if I am ready to talk about that part yet. I went through a lot of psychological torture, physical abuse, brainwashing and kidnapping during those 2 years.
I was treated like a loved child for days at a time (to gain my trust?) and then suddenly thrown into all manner of crazy ‘therapeutic’ scenarios that left me very heartbroken, angry, terrified, and confused. I was locked in bare rooms for days at a time, starved, forced to sleep in a shower stall, wrapped head to toe in sheets and sat on, thrown in showers fully clothed and sprayed in the face with cold water, accused of molesting children, accused of beating children, accused of trying to kill children, exorcised (yes, exorcised by two priests), and countless other crazy things that these people thought were “therapy.”
I watched other kids go through the same thing… a 5-year old Chinese girl whose adoptive mother was cold and blamed the little girl for their lack of a bond, a 14-year old Russian boy who could speak no English, a silent 8-year old girl who was accused of trying to kill her siblings, a vulnerable 16-year old girl who spoke nothing but Spanish.
I watched them and several other children all go through this nightmare with me. I am still haunted by these memories.
I have a lot to share, but I will need some time to get it all out. This site kind of snuck up on me.
It feels good to talk about it after all these years.