Story of a Failed Mind Control Subject

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Chapter 2

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Chapter 2
I Seem to Have Lost My Mother

When I was three years old, my mother was arrested in Colorado for prostitution and possession. I was born in November of 1971, so I suppose it was sometime in ’75.

By this time, Edna wouldn’t take Jacob III and I anymore. They were fed up, and weren’t going to “support” my mother’s habits anymore by helping with us. Jacob Jr. said he wasn’t going to take us. He’d take Jacob III, because Jacob was HIS. But me? No way, he wasn’t going to take me. The Other Man supported Jacob 2’s decision, and suggested that they find other family for me.

But my mother wouldn’t allow us to be separated. So this was how Ava and Bill (her husband– foster son to Edna’s mother/stepfather) got involved. They came down from Idaho and picked us up. They promised my mother that after her year sentence was served, they would give us right back.

Now, my life up to that point hadn’t been great. But things took a real turn for the worse at this point. Bill and Ava Robertson got us because she was my mother’s aunt (and in reality, my grandmother’s daughter, remember).

The first thing that they did was to change our names. It was at this point that they began to clearly show the differences between my status and Jacob 3’s. Jacob got to choose his new name. He chose Rodney. Then I got to choose a name… I chose Elizabeth. I admired Elizabeth Taylor, and since I had no choice at all in having my name changed, I wanted to be just like her.

Jacob became Rodney, as he requested. I became Joanne, as I didn’t want and didn’t like. So now my name was Joanne Robertson.

Here, it becomes a bit more difficult to make the information clear, because this is based entirely off of my own memories. And my memories are quite extensive, but they are a child’s disjointed memories, which I must carefully disseminate for you with an adult’s mind. So please forgive me if they don’t come out in any particular order, as that’s sort of how they’re organized (or not organized) in my mind.

I suppose the easiest part to begin with is the regular, daily abuse that I experienced. I think these will be the easiest to relate to and understand. And relay.

One of the strongest memories, that sticks with me the most, is eating with the dogs. I ate dog food mostly. I was scum, after all, and I barely deserved even that. So I fought with the dogs for dog food. I ate on the floor, never at the table. And when I got food, it was bacon (my favorite, just like the other dogs!), white bread, beans sometimes, and on rare occasions, a hot dog. Food was often my reward when they decided to use reward versus punishment.

This brings me to my first very strong positive memory. We were talking about how there are good people out there, too. I definitely met one, and I bless him and his family with my whole heart.

I was a starving little kid. A scrawny, poorly dressed, starving blonde haired, blue-eyed waif. I saw that when I looked at pictures of myself. There weren’t many.

One day, us kids went to a store. I only remember that there were only a few of us– Raymond (now known as Ramon), Jacob, and me I think. Anyway, we went into the store, and I stole some bread. I looked up and realized I’d gotten caught– the owner was staring at me in shock. I dropped the bread and ran away to hide behind Jacob. The man never said anything.

We went back to that store every few days. For smokes, I think, but I’m not sure. But a strange thing happened when I was there. The man would go into the back room, and shut the door. Then he’d come out of the door, and leave it open. Sitting on a barrel back there, or a bunch of boxes (whatever was in my view), would be some food. A sandwich. A bowl of mac & cheese. Pork and beans.

He’d leave, and I’d sneak back and eat as much of it as I could, as fast as I could. Raymond and the man would chat up front until I came up from eating. The man never acknowledged me in front of him. He never said a word to me; he never looked at me. But he always made the same “mistake” of leaving his lunch sitting out for me to “steal.”

I cry even now, remembering this precious man and his “mistakes.” As an adult, I know now that he planned for me. He expected me. He diverted Raymond or Rocky (I just don’t remember for sure which one it was that always took me there) until I could finish up. And I’ll remember that look on his face the first time he saw me, and the compassion in his eyes. I was scared of being caught, but I still saw it. And on some deep level, I understood it.

I think he called CPS, too (whatever it was called back then). I can’t be sure, as my child’s mind doesn’t recall any connection, though I sense there was one. Nothing came of it, though.

More to come– lots and lots more, I’m afraid. It’s not a short story by any means.

Written by sandit4glp

July 30, 2010 at 1:45 pm

Posted in Chapter 02