So, just a few more thoughts on this as the time passes.
I suppose several of my recent post have related to media stuff. Things concerning what I suspected in the past and how those things lead me to really go down a very weird "rabbit hole", primarily while psychotic on prednisone. All of this was proven in the forensics to the point it could have been, so it's not so much my story as it was the result of the investigation. Still, there was a lot that was left, I don't know, left to some sort of mystery concerning what I uncovered (I suppose that's one way of putting it), what could be decerned, and what could just not be believed.
One of these items was that of sexual abuse. That abuse I suffered as a kid. And while I never disclosed it (although some knew of it, such as my sister), even know, I would have rather it was never disclosed. Not out of embarrassment, but...
Well, this might sound like very bad advice, likely it is, but I don't think there is much of a point in people disclosing what happened to them such as what happened to me. Unless it results in some sort of justice for them, or ends the abuse, I have found there to be about no effect on healing, or having anyone understand, actually, bring these memories to the surface and into the open does very little.
In reality, I had rather forgotten about what happened to me. Yet, in some subconscious way, I had not dealt with it. What I mean to say, is that while psychotic my mind seemed to take many negative emotions and carry them into a state of mind where they become the most important things I was thinking about. But, also, covered in a rash, dying of polycythemia... and in a state of general medical misery, I don't think any sort of previous therapy would have helped.
This has bothered me.
Many people have told me, if I would have just said something before... but I remain skeptical. Now, I really doubt it.
But perhaps, as I seem to have obviously become somewhat fixated on Pizzagate as sort of self-referential quest... maybe they are right.
It just bothers me, always will I suppose... that something that happened when I was ten, came back to basically ruin my life. It seems just so sad... so cruel.
But now, I am basically doing okay. Basically, I have made it through this cruel joke, or whatever, and why the deception on my life occurred. And I really, I don't even have any bad feelings about much of it... I had to accept it. That took about three years. At first, I was really very confused, in a sort of denial... I could not understand the motivations of others involved.
Then I realized they were never going to tell me anyway. They were never going to help me in the lawsuits I filed, and the tribunals. And what's more, I had to present just what happened in several of the tribunals, they investigated further and concluded I was truthful... so I do hope that leads to people realizing that my description of events is accurate.
And so... one moves past the mystery, I guess. I am just glad I didn't die.
