Brainwashing, Thought Reform, Mind Control & Coercion – When Saying No Is Not Enough

This is a topic that I have much experience with, and absolutely detest the deception, and oppression that revolves around such psychologically abusive tactics. I had the misfortune of having a high school teacher, who seized control of my life six months before I graduated from high school.

He was able to carry this out because I had no parental protection, and was graduating early. I did have concrete plans of going to University because I knew my education had to be paid for until I turned eighteen. I also had a powerful older brother who had constantly attacked and abused me as a child. The teacher and big brother were in cahoots.

The teacher began the scheme by having me cut from the cheerleading squad, so I would play basketball. It was a very small school in central Alberta, so we did not have many options when it came to sports, and other activities. He was the basketball coach and wanted more exposure to me. I was kind of creeped out by him right off the bat, but there was not much I could do. He was a big, brutish tough guy, very serious, very religious, and had a prolonged intimidating stare. He also lacked boundaries big time.

In fact, I remember having a discussion with other students about him. One of them said, “I feel like he knows every sin I ever did”. And then another student immediately piped up and said, “I feel like he knows every sin I ever thought about doing”.

One day shortly after I started playing basketball, he told me he and his wife were having a spaghetti dinner for the basketball team. When I showed up for dinner, I was the only one there. He duped me right off the bat. During the strange dinner party, I was subjected to his prolonged and frequent staring, like a bug under a microscope. I was very uncomfortable, but made polite small talk, and watched the clock until I could escape. In fact the clock watching, and hope to finally get free of him, became a lifelong pattern whenever I was around him. It was like the minutes ticked by, slowed to a stall. It was mind numbing and boring.

After I choked down the spaghetti, out of the blue he announced, “God told me to adopt you”. I said, “What!?” then I quickly added, “It’s too late. I am already pretty much grown up.” But little did I know this was the beginning of a lifelong devious scheme. He would not take no for an answer. Finally I said, “Does God talk to you out of the sky or the walls or what?” Then I tried another tact, and said, “Since it is my life, why wouldn’t God tell me too?”

After the introduction of his scheme, he started a campaign of coercion and brainwashing. He switched from saying God told him to adopt me to claiming, and announcing he was “legally adopting me”. He told everyone at school, including all the other teachers, he was in the process of going through a legal adoption. It was a brazen lie, but it went unchallenged for some reason.

I guess he thought a throwaway kid had no possible way of refuting him. He had all the power, God, my older brother, and the law on his side. So he had all the bases covered. Soon the lies included the wider community, and extended family. I would tell people it was completely bogus. Everyone knew I was not the teacher’s daughter. I repeatedly said no to his adoption claims. I thought it was absurd.

The authoritarian abuse of power was phenomenal. Once he established the first lie about a legal adoption, when clearly I was never up for adoption, he had himself “legally” covered to carry out the pretence of “wanting what was best for Valerie”. He did this in collusion with my older brother, so I was dominated by these brutish lies, no matter how I tried to stick handle this intrusive behaviour, before I could get out of town

He accelerated his behaviour to stalking, and following me around outside of school. He started telling people I was “emotionally disturbed” and “needed intervention”. In actual fact, I had accelerated through school, and passed with honours consistently. I also played all sports, and was president of the student’s union.

But the fact I have to feel defensive about his repeated lies and accusations is in itself, quite warped. It should not have mattered what I was doing. Even if I was emotionally disturbed, and out of control, it does not mean you should get stalked, forcibly confined, and forced into an adoption con by a high school teacher.

Since when do defiant teenagers get forcibly adopted by teachers? Isn’t that why schools have referrals? To make matters even worse, he was a brand new teacher, and in his twenties at the time. He literally acted like he thought he was god, and knew everything about everything. Why was he so obsessed with a sixteen year old girl? Did anyone ask him? Did anyone stop him? Did anyone protect me from such advances? No. It’s too bad.

No, unfortunately for me, they did not stop his aggression, and obsession to take control of my life. He should have been reported to the Alberta Teachers Association, and at the very least, relocated to another school. Kind of like relocating a predatory beast.

In my opinion, he should have lost his teacher’s license, for the fact he would not listen, no matter what anyone said. He should have been arrested for abduction because he forced me into a car, and then forcibly confined me for hours on end.

I know this teacher scenario raised many red flags for others in the community, because I heard all kinds of whispered comments, and gossip about it. I don’t think anyone really knew what to do, even though the predation was obvious, and the motives were highly questionable.

The lies were framed in such a way, if I said no to him, I was in defiance of authority. The proverbial bad girl. He was the daddy-god, and I really had no say in it at all. The choice was to either put up with it, or leave school and run for the hills. I was very motivated to finish school, and get a post-secondary education, so I endured what was a barrage of psychological torture.

He escalated from constantly staring and following me, to chasing me down at night outside of school, and forcing me into his car, to take me home with him for the night. He would yell “You get in that car, or I will STUFF you in that car”.

During the prolonged brainwashing sessions, he would not let me leave his house, until about five in the morning. Then he would stare at me the next day, as I went through the motions in school, exhausted, scared, and confused. He stared at me with feigned pity, like we shared some kind of warped secret. I tried to avoid looking at him, shrinking away as much as was humanly possible.

The all night brainwashing sessions, contained certain themes he repeated over and over ad nauseam. One of those central lying themes, surrounded his absolute assertions that our mother was wicked beyond salvation. He despised her, even though he did not even know her. He kept saying she did not deserve to be my mother.

He told me over and over, our mother was wicked, and not redeemable. In actual fact, I was the spitting image of our mother. From my earliest recollections, every farmer in the community, and anyone who saw us, would say as much. “Oh my goodness, that child looks just like her mother.”

Our mother’s name was Joy. Our Swedish grandmother nicknamed me Little Joy, when I was about two years old, or younger. It made the cruelty of those all night sessions even more abased and degrading. Why would anyone do such a thing? Especially under the guise of being a Christian, when the fifth Commandment tells us to honour our mother and father? I knew it was completely off-base, but I had no power to stop it.

In hindsight, I know this was a very abusive tactic to shame, and destabilize me to the core of my existence. But how could I know about such devious schemes at age sixteen? How could I know he was cultish, and not the least bit Christian? As a teacher, he used his religion like it was a police badge. It took years to unravel it all.

Another one of his brainwashing repetitions was that I had the “exact same” IQ as his wife. I found such a claim to be totally ridiculous. I asked him, “How is it even possible? I don’t think I have the same IQ from one day to the next, so how could it be exactly the same as her IQ? No one has the exact same IQ.” He fabricated this lie, because I had scored in the top percentile on IQ tests, and I was not going to be allowed to even own my own IQ. He owned it, not me, and he was determined to make sure I was put in, and kept in my place, as far as what I thought about it.

He would puff himself up and literally dare me to defy him. Then he would repeat what he just said, slowly, so I would be sure to get it. After awhile I started saying, “I don’t care what you think or say.” Again, according to him, I was being difficult, causing trouble, and had a defiance of authority.

He repeatedly and frequently added this doozy to his repertoire of lies: “We like to believe we have had you since you were about six years old.” How repulsive. I would think to myself, “Little do you know, you never had me at all. I don’t give a crap about what you like to believe. Go join the Moonies.” 

Since when is a person cornered and trapped by some absurd fallacy that another person wants to believe? Madonna and numerous other celebrities, and other victims of stalkers, would be saddled with every kook in the universe, if this was the case.

To add to the dark confusion, he used multiple out of context Bible verses, and would read out verses to imply I was his special gift from God, and he alone (not God, but him), was called upon to save me from damnation and hell. Without him I was hopeless. I should have much gratitude for his role in my life. The only reprieve was compliance.

During one of those all night sessions alone with him in a darkened room, I decided to get up and make a beeline for the door. I got up and bolted for the exit. When I got to the small landing, he caught me by the arm before I could get the door open. He spun me around, so I accidentally kicked a metal lunch pail that was sitting at the top of the stairs, so it clattered down the stairs. This was at around 3 am. One would think his dutiful wife would have got out of bed to see what was going on. But she never did.

At that moment, I honestly thought he might assault or kill me. He growled, “You better not do that again. Don’t you ever even think about it”. Another time when he caught me outside of school, chasing me through the bush, he panted, “Don’t you try to get away. You will never get away, ’cause I will HUNT you down”. It was pitch black, and I had tripped over a log, so he caught me that time too.

I kept thinking I would get away from him when I graduated, but no such luck. He forced me into nursing, and then took credit for the fact I became a nurse. Our brother invited him to every family function. So the lying narrative never ended.

The lies followed me out of high school. The teacher acted like he babysat me in order to get me through nursing, so his pet project could be attributed to him. The truth can easily be proven. I went to school in Calgary after I left high school. Just like he had nothing to do with my academic inclinations in public school, he had nothing to do with me doing well in a post secondary setting. He was a hundred and eighty miles away for crying out loud. Once again, I got excellent marks and was on the President’s honour roll. I was just relieved to be able to go to school without him following me around.

I played basketball at Mount Royal University during those years, and met my husband while playing basketball. He was an all star athlete, and MVP. His athletic accomplishments, and record breaking achievements, had earned him all kinds of accolades, so he was kind of cocky. He was also a gentle, and kind person, thank goodness. His own mother was bipolar, so he immediately understood the difficulties surrounding such a family dynamic.

He was the tallest guy in the whole place, and I thought my problems with the teacher might be over. I remember when I first told him about the “wonderful Christian teacher”. I explained how everyone thought he was so wonderful, but he would often use force, like saying he would stuff me into his car. Paul just looked at me for a long moment, and then replied, “Not anymore, he ain’t.”

I felt overjoyed, and imagined the teacher getting stuffed through the hoops of oblivion. But even so, the wonderful teacher concept was so entrenched in my own family, we still could not get rid of him, without an all out war, and expulsion from the family.

So we kept it on the back burner, remained polite, and hoped it would resolve itself. It never did get resolved. We should have been adamant, and closed the door on the awful teacher chapter of our lives. We did not know Paul’s life would be cut short. We assumed we could just carry on, and try to keep the peace in the family, so we could have a normal life. In the years before he died, Paul never left me alone with the teacher for one second. He frankly told me, “I don’t like the way he looks at you.” Paul was a gifted musician, and would entertain them playing guitar. I honestly wished we would have never allowed them into our home.

How is it that I was so emotionally disturbed, I required aggressive intervention in grade twelve, and yet just months later, even though I was a hundred and eighty miles away from the perp, I managed just fine, without any intervention at all? The thing about lies, is they really make no sense. They do not add up. They blow apart under scrutiny like sand in a windstorm.

I thought and hoped, and prayed, maybe the two brutes would mellow over time. I have always had good verbal skills, so I thought, maybe I could somehow talk my way out of this absurd pseudo adoption plot, and unwanted relationship. It went on and on for years.

They never once listened or took no for an answer, no matter what I said. In fact, this little cabal, and the lies they conjured up became the construct of foundational lies that gave my brother his rise to power. Sooner or later, it will crumble.

Finally I went to the police. But by then my older brother had way too much power and influence. Initially, the police admitted there had been a serious wrongdoing, and agreed to investigate. But it did not take long for them to back pedal. The excuse given to me, was that it would be difficult to get the witness statements.

At least half the grade twelve class witnessed the teacher force me into a car. Not once, but several times. In fact, we posted a lookout at the bush parties, to yell out a warning when he showed up. Then all of us would scatter through the bush. But I was the one he was after, even though all of us were afraid of him. It was no secret he was totally obsessed with me.

The lies became a narrative entrenched into the family and the community. I tried everything from compliance to defiance, but nothing worked. He would threaten me with expulsion from my own family.

As a result of all these lies, I went through life with an oppressive wet blanket hanging over me, along with the slanderous, whispering gossip of needing intervention, and lifelong monitoring. Most people want to escape, or at least heal from a difficult childhood. But they saddled and scapegoated me, and would not let go of the lying narrative.

Over the years, the teacher sent me hundreds of “daughter cards.” Syrupy, glittering daughter cards, filled with out of context Bible verses he had selected from the fake John Darby Bible. I did not know for years, how cultish all of this was. I naively thought a Christian was a Christian.

The teacher and his wife were only slightly more than a decade older than me. Of course people would be surprised when they told them I was their daughter. They wondered how it came about. The teacher’s wife would gloat when people said, “Oh my, you don’t look old enough to be her mother!” Just like she would gloat when he insisted I had the “exact same IQ” as she did. There is nothing like taking glory and exaltation for lying. One day they will be judged for all their lies.

You would think if an older brother, and high school teacher set up such a scheme, insinuating I was mentally ill and deranged, when there was never any real evidence to support those lies, they would have been charitable and helpful. There was not a shred of compassion ever. They did not have the tiniest bit of empathy, and did not offer any support. Yet they are staunch church goers, and never miss a Sunday. Total hypocrites.

I graduated from nursing when I was nineteen, and started working from then on. They did not pay my way at all, ever. The teacher would come to my house and freeload. They were so cheap, they wouldn’t buy me a coffee without being able to use my house, my car, and command hours of my time catering to them. They used my home as their own personal west coast time share. They sent or invited their relatives to do the same. It was an incredible amount of work, like I was a domestic servant. They were so arrogant, they paraded around like I owed them my existence.

All this from people I did not even know. When the teacher started telling everyone I was his daughter, I barely knew the guy, and had spent very little time with his wife. When I graduated and moved away from my home town, I had spent less than ten hours around the teacher’s wife. How did she morph into mother superior? They had financial motives, beyond a doubt.

They were complete strangers. I never went and stayed at their house. They came and took over mine, and no one else was paying my bills. It was all payback for his invasive and intrusive brainwashing during my final semester of grade twelve. I felt like a dog on a leash, a fund raising mascot, a bird in a cage, being lied about and tied indefinitely to an abusive past.

It is a very long story, and is not over with to this day. But one thing it has taught me, is how pervasive and widespread a false narrative can become. For many years I would have to endure visits, and twenty years later he would stare at me just as he did when I was in grade twelve, and say I was his daughter, our mother was wicked, and I had the exact same IQ as his wife. I found it to be overwhelmingly repulsive to the core. But I could hardly physically pick this guy up and throw him out of my house. And even if I could, I would have the wrath of big brother to deal with in no time flat.

Finally I terminated the relationship, after their final visit when I was living on Haida Gwaii. I knew intuitively I would never be able to tell him to F Off and get out of my house, in person. I always believed he could be violent. He was violent as a teacher. He was keen to yell orders, bellow at students, give straps (before they banned such assaults), and physically manhandled students when he got the opportunity. His proclivity for violence stuck with me in the following years, so I was always meek and polite around him.

During the final visit, I had many other visitors, like my own family members, and friends who I did want to be there. The teacher, his wife and their relatives, literally took over my entire house. In addition, they had such an extreme sense of entitlement and rudeness, they would tell people, including myself, to shhhh when we talked.

They acted like they were some kind of royalty, and deserved to be worshipped. They still carried the pious holier than thou mentality, and also the supreme authority they had established years prior to this when I was in high school. I was still under the schoolmaster’s rule. The excessive demands were part of the sickening bondage, and entrapment I had been forced into.

They had promised the teacher’s niece in Alberta enough free fish for her wedding, which was just a month or so later. But rather than book a fishing charter themselves to go out and catch the fish, they expected me to provide the fish free of charge, and pack it up, then fly it to Alberta myself. I told them, “No, I do not have a freezer full of fish to give you.” Once again, they made promises on my behalf, without even consulting with me.

The entire week was filled with constant harassment over the fish. They had promised I would bring the fish, and therefore it was a battle of wills, to force me to agree to it, and make a commitment to attend the wedding with the fish in tow. All this just for an invitation to the wedding, and a gushing pat on the head. They were too cheap to book a charter, yet they expected me to foot the bill for all the fish.

Once again, these were people I hardly knew. The cost of such a demand was thousands of dollars. Plus it involved hauling huge boxes of frozen fish to the airport on Haida Gwaii, which was a ferry ride, and a forty minute drive to get there. Then you had to worry about changing planes with no delays, so it would not start to thaw. It was totally unreasonable to expect anyone to do so, let alone a single mother.

In spite of the fact I repeatedly said no, and would not commit to taking fish to Alberta, they would not let up for a moment. At least six to ten times each day, they brought it up, and told me they were not leaving without a commitment from me to provide the fish. Each time I refused, they clenched their jaws, and would go into the bedroom to drum up another approach. It created a great deal of stress for me. I was tapped out, and run off my feet as it was, and with them, it was just never enough.

They demanded more than what I could give. It was a form of extortion, and was the last straw for me. Saying no to the fish was exactly like saying no to the adoption. They flat out refused to take no for an answer. I remember saying to my sister, “I feel like I am the fish they baited and reeled in long ago. A fish named Valerie.” I wondered when the bonk on the head, or the gaffe/gaff would finally end. I knew I had to end it, come hell or high water, once and for all. I had grown up on a farm in poverty. The last thing any person would even dream of doing, is demanding a farmer’s calf or beef without payment. It was an outrageous demand.

When they were finally getting ready to leave, I sat on the couch and watched the minutes tick by on the big clock on the wall. It had a second hand, so every time it went around, I vowed to myself that I would not spend one more minute with these people. I did not want to make a scene, so I just sat and watched the clock. The ferry was due at 2 pm. It seemed to take forever for them to pack up and leave. In spite of the tension, they did not believe for one second that I would terminate the relationship. They thought they had me locked in, no matter what they did.

By this time, the teacher and his wife were both retiring, so another bombshell they dropped, was how excited they were to come and spend months on end with me in my lovely home. I was gobsmacked. I could barely get through a week with them visiting. It was so oppressive, I tried to go down and book extra shifts at the hospital. I would take the garbage out, and come back an hour or two later, just to get away from them. If I said I was going out for a walk, they immediately got their coats on, and joined me. She was watching my every move, to include what I ate, and what I talked about.

The last conversation I had with the teacher’s wife, she told me in graphic detail, how she had drowned the family cat in the rain barrel. She had just retired, and told me she had gone through expired medications in the small facility where she had worked. She took home the extra Valium and various other drugs. She injected the cat with Valium. It was an extra large cat, and family pet, with some annoying habits, so she decided to off the cat. Why not just take it to the vet or the SPCA?

Instead, she donned thick winter clothing, and long gauntlet gloves, and then proceeded to drown the cat in the rain barrel. She was shocked at how difficult it was, because she did not expect it to fight back as hard as it did.

I could feel the colour draining out of my face, when she told me this story. I was mortified. I felt like I was going to be ill. I asked her if there had been any children around to witness this, because they did have young grandchildren. I could not imagine doing such a thing to an animal, but once again, this was part of their ongoing pattern of behaviour. It seemed they liked to punish, and create living sacrifices. Each time they killed a pet, it was because it had annoyed them, and become a nuisance. Kind of like I was annoying them.

After the final visit, I sent them an email, and told them it was OVER and there was no way I was going to be attending the wedding, let alone bringing fish. By then, nothing was going to change my mind. They made it clear they were planning on spending more and more time with me, not less. So I finally balked and resisted, as a matter of my own survival. They still would not take no for an answer. In fact, a week or so later, the teacher’s sister called me, and tried to make cheery small talk. Then she had the gall to ask me when I would be arriving with the fish for the wedding.

I told her I had made it crystal clear – I would not be attending the wedding. Then she wailed, “But Valerie, what about the FISH!” I could hardly believe it. I told her I had company for dinner, and was not able to discuss it any further. The teacher had manipulated his sister, to try and get the fish out of me. Clearly, I had been far too nice to these imposters throughout my life. They were beyond dense.

Of course I never got any support from my brother over it all. He sided with them, not me. So from then on, it has been a series of punishment, and endless pressure to resume the relationship. His wrath became front and centre just as it had been when we were kids on the farm. They contacted everyone I knew, and told them something was seriously wrong with me. I was mentally ill for the way I had treated these “wonderful Christians.”

By the time I made this decision, I was angry. It was like the flight or fight response was cursing through my veins. All that mattered was getting rid of the teacher and the lies. He had taken over my identity. He continually dared me to defy his all encompassing authority, long after I left school. He never changed his tactics, although he pretended to be a decent Christian person. But his actions and attitude spoke volumes. He never changed one bit over the years. My older brother never changed his stripes either.

This teacher saga is not over. Once I adamantly refused to comply, my older brother kicked in with his wrath, and a range of manipulative and abusive tactics. The phase of punishment and shunning began soon after the teacher relationship was terminated. They will not give up the pack of lies, no matter how obvious and provable.

Do people really think conspiracy theories are nonsense? I can assure they are not. My brother and the teacher had a full plan for my entire life, without even consulting me. They included multiple other people in this plot of control, and manipulated it to no end. They know how to motivate others with perks. Compliance with the plot, was the one and only thing that won our wrathful, older brother’s approval. Anyone who wanted a perk, just had to buy into the plot.

Now I recognize all the mind control, and thought reform methods used by such characters. I am older, and wiser. The longer foundational lies go on, the more ingrained they become, and the more others buy into those lies to increase the entrapment.

My advice is to heed the early red flags. In hindsight I should have screamed blue murder, and gone to the police immediately. But in the absence of such drama, do not be dominated or suckered into plots and schemes. Once entrenched, they are very difficult to get out of.

I know I am fortunate compared to countless other female victims. I have watched enough true crime shows to know many women are murdered, and discarded like trash. Indeed, the essence of such assaults and psychological torture, is to dominate and control through fear, shaming, and deception. Oftentimes, they have you trapped before you even realize what is happening.

We must learn to trust our intuition. The objective of thought reform, is to make you doubt your own perceptions and judgement. Once they achieve that goal, they have control over you. In some cases, they want to destroy you body and soul. Our soul consists of our mind, will an emotions.

Anyone who tries to destroy the soul of another person, is wicked to the core. I survived the aftermath and struggles foisted upon me by such a diabolical plot, only by the grace of God. Thought reform and brainwashing is designed to destabilize us, and doubt our own perceptions. It generates a deep-rooted shame, and fear, sort of like being torn out by the roots. There is constant cognitive dissonance, like putting a tin bucket over your head in a hail storm. He was clearly trying to drive me mad. Each time I pleaded to get free of it all, I was condemned by my own family, thanks to my older brother’s abuse of power.

To make matters worse, each time the bulk of his attack on my cognition, happened right after the death of a close family member. When I was in grade twelve and all of this started, my younger brother had just been killed in a car accident. Vulnerability is seen as opportunity for predators. It was crippling. It locks your soul into solitary confinement, and complete hopelessness, like drowning without an ending.

After I was married, I had a layer of protection for several years. But we still felt obliged to be polite to these people, just to keep the peace in the family. When I was in my mid-thirties, my husband was killed in an accident, and the teacher plot swelled into a full out onslaught all over again.

They choose the most vulnerable times of your life, to pummel you with their deceptive agenda. It was bleak like nothing you could ever imagine. If anyone wants to know what hell on earth is, these cultish personalities manage to inflict it on you without mercy.

In hindsight, I see many parallels the teacher used to mimic Christianity. He insisted I was somehow reborn to him. I was born into my own family, and the only other time we are reborn is to Christ, not to a cult. He falsely claimed I was adopted by them, yet God tells Christians we are adopted into the family of God. He insisted our mother was not redeemable, when God makes it very clear – people do not decide who is redeemable, and who is not redeemable. He pretended he was my saviour, when clearly he was the opposite. He never admitted to having any sin in his own life, yet Christ made it clear, we are all sinners. He took over my identity when as Christians, our identity is in Christ.

The central theme was that I must buy into their adoption con, or I would not only be rejected by my own family, and accused of being wicked and mentally ill, with no one to believe or support me. But more ominously, I would be rejected by God, and punished until I came to my senses. So If I did get away, just as he promised when I was in high school, he was going to hunt me down, and play the role of his false god doing the punishing, in order to force me back into their diabolical plot. They would never take no for an answer, no matter what.

The provable truth is that I have never been treated for, or hospitalized, or required to take medication for a mental illness in my entire life. In fact, no one in Canada can be forced into a mental health diagnosis or treatment without a court order. A person has to have multiple brushes with the law, or present a danger to themselves or others, usually requiring hospitalization, before there can be any justification to such accusations.

We are all assumed to be sane, unless proven otherwise. To use it as a threat or a con, or a punishment, is against the law. Yet they have used this false accusation and defamatory nonsense as a fundamental threat primarily because I was a gifted student, and my brother, clearly – was not. Neither was the teacher or his wife academically gifted.

I realize an IQ is not something to boast about, because we have nothing to do with what God given traits we end up with. It is not much different than eye colour or height. There will always be people who are smarter, and to God, we are foolish a good percentage of the time. I certainly recognize my own foolishness in hindsight. We all need to repent, myself included, and our IQ has little to do with it.

Our mind is to supposed to be focused on Christ, for renewal and guidance. Whatever gifts we might have been given, are also not intended to be a topic of constant punishment and attack. It has been difficult to overcome the resentment I feel, for becoming a target for lifelong abuse by a teacher, just for being a motivated student. School should be a safe place, not a place where you get saddled with a lifelong tormenter. I actually tried to view him as a superior human being for awhile. I was the inferior one by far. But no matter how I viewed him and the entire con, I found it to be painful and horribly abusive. It was a trap with no way out.

As far as our lineage, and being robbed of it by a lying pseudo-Christian teacher, the Bible is full of who begat who. It describes the seed of each and every generation, as well of the progression of events proceeding from the generations since the beginning of time. We do not suddenly become the seed of another genealogy. Our ancestry, lineage, and the seed from which we came from, is clearly not something to be messed with, and lied about. I had to get free of the lies and bondage, for the sake of the future generations within my own family. I had to find a way to become secure in my own identity, and not filled with condemnation for who I am.

The teacher and his wife were so far removed from my own ancestry, it is beyond belief how they thought they could pull something like that off in the first place. To me, it was like their spirits were deadened. They had no spark. Without a doubt, the truth was not in them, and the best I can do is pray they repent, and stop the destructive influence and stronghold they developed in my own family. For what? Greed? The devil? Intentionally inflicting pain for sadistic pleasure? Who knows for sure. They turned me into an outcast in my own family.

The damage they did spans my own lifetime, and more than one generation. Yet, they have their own family, their own children, grandchildren, siblings, and ancestry. No one meddled with their right to be members of their own family. I stayed out of their family dynamic, even though at times I felt like contacting their family members to tell them the truth. I could never understand why on earth would they be so relentlessly determined to insert themselves into, infiltrate, and spread falsehoods into another family, completely unrelated to them.

All things about this plot were not only steeped in lies, but also in marginalizing, scapegoating, and sacrificing me. When Satanic forces latch onto a victim, they not only want to destroy your life on earth, they are determined to sacrifice you for all eternity. I was no different than an animal or stray dog to them, except the rewards to them are even greater if they can destroy the soul of a human being.

They may as well don horns and a long tail, instead of piously sitting there puffed up with arrogance, in their convoluted and compounded darkness. After all, the great war between good and evil, is about the destruction and sacrifice of souls. We are only delivered from such a diabolical plot by the grace of God. It is truly an example of the snare of the fowler.

Before I met Paul, they tried to force me to sign adoption papers when I turned eighteen. To this day, I am so grateful I flatly refused, even though they had all the paperwork, newspaper announcements and what not. They literally had me backed up against the wall, giving me orders to sign those papers, RIGHT NOW! Similar to the fish episode on Haida Gwaii, they were not leaving until I signed those papers. Thankfully my college roommate came home in the midst of all this, and was perplexed and alarmed. The teacher and his wife had to drop it, or she might have called the police.

Another time, when I was still single, living in a big house with a group of other University students, they showed up to take me somewhere, and flatly refused to leave, even though I was hiding out in one of the bedrooms. First they came inside, and sat in the living room, looking miserable, stubbornly refusing to budge. One of the older, and more assertive young women in the house, realized I had no desire to go anywhere with them, so she ordered them to leave.

After this confrontation, they went out and sat in their car in the driveway, blocking it, so on one could come or go. In that case, I felt so bad for the trouble they were causing everyone else in the house, I eventually came out and went with them.

One of the other students who lived there had a job to go to, and they were parked behind her car, blocking her in. We should have called the police. There were so many missed opportunities to get the police involved in those early years. The only reason there was hesitancy to call the police, was because of my older brother, and my own family, and the framework they created to turn this teacher into some kind of deity. My life would have been so much better without him. But I thank God every day, for seeing the light of the day in spite of them.

They lied and did so much gaslighting over the years, I actually believed they had forged my signature, and filed a fraudulent adoption. In later years, I wrote to the Ministry in Alberta for clarification on this, and they told me “No, adoption papers were not filed.”

It was nothing but a pack of lies, shamelessly repeated over and over again. The teacher was an offspring of the father of lies, not God the father. Only God and Satan know the truth depth of his ulterior motives. Because to this day, I do not fully understand why anyone would do such a thing, over such a long period of time, with an absolute refusal to back down. They still will not stop it, and believe I should be punished for rejecting them, when I should never have been subjected to such a plot in the first place. He was a corrupt, power abusing teacher in a hick town public school in central Alberta. That’s it. That’s all. I only wish I could have left him behind, as we do with most of our teachers.

Now that I have had the opportunity to see things on a bigger and wider scale, there is no doubt, we have been under a deceptive fear campaign in countless other ways. They mock us, make false accusations, gang up on us, gaslight, punish, coerce, shame, and push their agenda with a grim reaper’s type of determination and coercion.

Our mother died in 2007, and I was fortunate to see her right before she died. She had accepted Christ years prior to her death. She was radiant and not afraid. She told me she had already walked on the road with Jesus. After her death, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the phenomenal and destructive lies I had been subjected to.

All I want, and all I have asked of my family members is to drop this teacher adoption plot once and for all. That means to drop it without the constant punishment, false accusations, and condemnation. But because of my older brother, this request is not granted. So it goes on and on and on. What does he have to gain by continuing it? I have no idea what is causing him to cling to it like he has. It makes no sense. His power and money places him in the 1% so he has all the worldly influence. He gives the orders.

All I can say in the face of such adversity is stand firm. The devil wants to destroy our mind, heart, and soul. Always remember. No means no. They did not win, and they will not win. They are the delusional ones. Truth is truth. Lies are delusional. They are so primitive, they do not even know the basics. The teacher is little more than chaff in the wind. He thought he had me – but he never did.