I decided to post this here, but not my facebook. I need to get it out somewhere. What I went through is eating me alive, I'm in it alone locally, and I asked for the FBI and took my story to our Senator, both approaches that fell on yet more deaf ears. I desperately want to go public for several reasons. I want to be vindicated and given a voice. I want my karmic moment when the world knows what the people who hurt me did and who they are, and that I'm not a liar. I want the public to be aware of these people to stay safe. I want justice. I want them to be as humiliated as I have been, and to find out what it's like to be treated the way I have been the last 2 plus years for speaking out and going to the cops.
The Detective in charge of my case is doing an investigation and preparing to question my rapists and those involved in hiding his sex crimes. I'm very suicidal. It's a fight that has gone on for years for me, and now I'm so far gone that I do not think I will survive much longer. That's part of why I'm posting this too. I don't expect any justice. The right thing never seems to happen anymore, and evil always seems to win. I have no more faith in anything, I've lost all hope and just want my suffering to end.
In March 2014, I was living at what Still bin PeacEagle (Benjamin Wayne Kinder) called “The Hobbit Asylum”. This was a trailer in Travois Village. We were having what we called “A Dance Party”. Basically, everyone getting together in the living room, dancing, drinking and smoking weed. I don’t have the exact date that this occurred.
Everyone was drunk except me. I had nothing to drink.
I had previously had consensual sexual intercourse with Todd Patrick Jordan in February when I was single. That night, he was refusing to take no for an answer, and kept putting his hand in my pants, grabbing my vagina. He was sitting next to me on the couch. His nails cut my labia and his fingers left bruises. I kept telling him to stop and tried to pull his hand off me multiple times. I tried to get Still’s attention, I mouthed “help me” at him. Still looked me right in the eye, smiled this big smile and kept twirling around dancing. He was 5 feet in front of me. I assumed the next day he didn’t help me because he was too drunk.
The next day I told Still what happened. The other roommate, Beth (I don’t have her last name), told Still that while walking back from the gas station the night before, Todd kept making creepy comments and grabbing her butt. Still said that Todd would still be allowed to come over to the trailer, despite what Beth and I both reported, as long as Todd wasn’t too drunk. I did not report what Todd did to anyone else.
I had made it crystal clear to both Todd and to Still that I would not have sex with Todd ever again. I told Todd that I was going to be with Still, and that I was monogamous only to Still. I also told Still this.
On March 27, 2014, I picked up a prescription for Ativan (Lorezapem), 2mg pills to be taken 3 times a day. 90 count, 180mg total in the prescription. I took 4mg when I was given the bottle. I had taken extremely high levels of narcotics, benzodiapenes, etc… for years. That was nothing for me.
I took Ativan, then went shopping, then called and waited for a cab, got home and I was unloading groceries, etc….all this took atleast 1 ½-2 hours from the time I first took the Ativan. If that 4mg of Ativan was going to impair me or black me out, it would have shown at Wal-Mart, not 2 hours later. I even have done testing to see how I break down and metabolize Ativan and my mental health medications. Those records can be pulled from Dr. Sydney Seyfert from summer or fall 2016. I have a very high tolerance for medications. I have survived about 40 suicide attempts via massive OD on prescription medications, and with at least a dozen of them, I never received medical intervention. I absorbed all the pills I took and somehow still survived.
I was then home unpacking groceries. I had gotten myself a drink and had my mug sitting on the kitchen table, going back and forth through the house doing chores, taking a drink here and there. I can not recall if the kitchen door was open or not, but it was always unlocked and anyone could walk into our trailer at any time. Todd had lived there previously and came and went whenever he wanted prior to this incident, as he had a standing open invitation from Still. Still had sheltered Todd there at The Hobbit Asylum for some time when Todd was trying to hide from the cops over that “Rape Nation” graffiti he was in the newspaper for years back. The last thing I remember I was in the hallway and everything got very weird, fuzzy, hazy and just slipped away. Like I was trying to go to my room, I think, but it just fades. It happened suddenly. I was fine, I was walking around doing things and then everything got weird and I was gone.
I don’t take Ativan or any controlled or addicted medications anymore, but there was a time when popping 6-8mg Ativan with 20mg of Percocet and some Ambien in the same day had me still conscious and talking, walking around and hanging out, albeit very, very high.
I have never in 20 years blacked out from 4 mg of Ativan, especially 2 hours after taking them. Either I had a delayed, rare reaction or someone spiked my mug and waited.
During my blackout, I have two memories.
One is when I was sitting on the ground in my bedroom, naked, crying and upset, and Still sitting on the bed above me, leaning forward and giving me a white pill with a creepy smile on his face.
The second has come in very clear, and it was NOT Todd, as I said in my first statement 2 years ago. It was Still crawling onto the bed and over me, with the same creepy smile on his face, and him having sex with me, hard, and me feeling panic and pain. I felt like I couldn’t breath. It’s brief, him climbing onto the bed and over me, and then him on me and inside of me thrusting.
I had my information wrong 2 years ago regarding the amount of time I had no memory, and I couldn’t clearly remember who I thought was Todd. I can’t remember anything else, no matter how hard I try, nothing else will come back.
When I started coming to, I was asking what happened. Still said, “You’ve been gone 5 days, acting more like yourself the last 2”. I originally thought he said weeks, and that is what I said in my first statement and to everyone else for a very long time 2 years ago. The other times I’ve questioned him about this over the years, Still says “about a week”. I believe 3-5 days is what is likely accurate.
I started asking people questions to find out what happened.
Beth and the other occasional roommate, Stuart McNabb, told me that they hadn’t been around much but had seen me crying a lot, or asleep in bed, and there were times I ran out of my room into the living room naked and screaming. I was told I was on the couch once. Stuart said I had my Ativan bottle at one point, wouldn’t let it go, and was acting pretty crazy. Stuart said he saw Still take the bottle and that Still was holding the bottle and giving me the pills.
That was really hard because everyone was laughing at me and making fun of me. Stuart was commenting on how that wasn’t the first time he saw a big woman naked. It was horrible. They all laughed at me while telling me some details of what they saw that I’ll never remember.
I literally could not be in the frame of mind to take enough Ativan at an often enough high dose round the clock to keep myself blacked out for days. Even if I had gone nuts and started taking a bunch of pills myself, based on numerous, numerous mental health records and my history established by medical records, I would not have stayed in a blackout for that long of a time, and would have come back to after being passed out for 12-18 hours after overdosing. There’s no way I could have had control over how much I was taking, to regulate the dose to keep me in that state for days, and I sure couldn’t have been functionable to have sex or give consent.
I’ve also been told I smoked marijuana and cigarettes at times, but I remember absolutely nothing. I was not drinking or using any drugs. I have smoked medical marijuana for years, and I had that one prescription for Ativan. That was it. I just don’t buy some of what I’ve been told.
Why didn’t anyone out of the 4 people involved or around at times call for help or do anything during that 3-5 days?
At first, nobody mentioned that any sex had taken place and I didn’t know Todd had been around at all.
Still simply told me that I overtook my Ativan and he was watching over me until I got better. He told me that he’d been taking care of me and stayed with me the entire time.
Todd came over one day, and I was asking questions about what went on, and found out he was there during the time I had no memory, which not Still, Beth or Stuart mentioned when I was asking them questions.
I asked Todd, straight forward, in front of Still in the room, “Did you have sex with me?” and Todd said, “Yes” then he added, “You wanted to, you asked me for it”.
Still was telling me he forgave me for having sex with Todd, I’m sitting there sick and suicidal that I did that and horrified I can’t remember. I’m hysterical, crying, apologizing, saying “There’s no way, I’d never cheat on Still! I told you I wouldn’t ever have sex with you again!”.
I had told both Still and Todd that I would never have sex with Todd again and was only monogamous to Still, and I reported to Still that Todd had been sexually assaultive to me, as had Beth. I did NOT want Todd to touch me ever again. Still and Todd tried to surround me and get me to give them a hug. They were telling me having sex with Todd and not being able to remember was okay, and that they forgave me. I backed away and would not let either of them touch me in that moment. My instincts were screaming.
After that, Todd never came back to the trailer, at least not when I ever saw him. He’s been arrested 6 more times since he raped me for stalking, domestic violence, and more. I spent time with his girlfriend, Misty N. who told me in detail of abuse while completely wasted and drunk, including sexual, that she has never reported.
Still continued to abuse me in horrific ways that the statute of limitations probably protects him from any prosecution of at this point 4 years later, unless torture of a disabled partner like myself is a felony that he can still be prosecuted for. There were other non-consensual sexual abuses of me on his end while we lived together.
At one point, in either August or September 2014, Still confessed to me that he had gotten into online child and teen porn via the deep(dark) web which he accesses through the TOR Network and the Onion. He told me about downloading and then masturbating to this porn, one video he said was a 10 year old girl being raped and forced to give a blow job. He also told me he had collected that kind of porn for quite some time, “A few months” he said when I asked. He said it was a phase and “a dark time of his life” he was going through and he didn’t do it anymore…then he went into some spiel about how it was part of “understanding his darkness” on his spiritual “Shamanic path” to enlightenment.
There’s nothing enlightening or ever acceptable about beating off to babies being raped.
I reported it. I had a suicide attempt, as well. I also told our High Priest Raven Digitalis (Colin Smith) and High Priestess (Estha McNevin) of the Opus Aima Obscurae Temple Haus and Coven what Still told me. I reported this in the Providence psychiatric hospital to the staff, as well, and Still was not allowed to even visit me while I was there. I believe that was in August or September 2014. I was torn apart for speaking out by Estha, Raven, Still and others.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Raven and Estha already knew. Still had told them about his kiddie porn a couple years earlier, and despite being mandated reporters by law who run a non-profit with open public family days that involve children, they never reported it. Raven works at Opportunity Resource. Estha is a spiritual counselor.
Still also told another ex-mutual friend named Christine Doody (Rain/Krsna Karsini) in the years before he told me. I believe he told others but couldn’t verify personally that those other two women heard about this from his as well. Still told me himself that he told Krsna years before and said she had forgiven him and trusted him. I tried to give her and her husband, Nanda, a head’s up about Still and what he did months back. They wished me peace, but continue to invite Still over to be in their home and around their children, an 18 month old baby girl who is deaf, and a 16 year old teenage girl, Ivy, who Still spent a lot of time babysitting alone when she was little. I know he gave her baths and put her to bed while Krnsa was out. He was alone with Ivy a lot for a couple years when she was younger child, and rented a room, living in the same home with her and Krsna (this is when she was a single mom) and I just hope he never touched her, or himself while watching her bathing or anything. He is a major voyeur. That’s part of why he stood outside my door listening to Todd rape me 4 years ago.
I’m the only one who tried to do the right thing. I backed down under the way I was treated when I reported and spoke out, and how Still stepped up his abuse and in his own ways, sadistic torture, behind closed doors. I’ll never forgive myself for that.
I have sat there and watched Still as he showed me how he downloaded TOR, the onion, and hacked into the dark web. I have watched him purchase marijuana on the dark web with bitcoin. I watched him download movies, music, porn on the Dark Web. He brags openly that he is an Eco-Hacker. He never showed me child porn. He showed me so much porn he has collected that it’s absolutely mind-boggling, and I know he was careful about what he showed me. Some of those girls looked barely 18, but I have no idea for sure. I have never gone on the dark web and done anything illegal. He was the one who did that. I wanted to get Pentobarbitol/Nembutal once to commit suicide but couldn’t figure out how to do it and wasn’t willing to take the legal risk.
He keeps his porn on different drives, and these huge old rectangular metal boxes that have the information in them. They’re old school, it’s like he had this collection of just so many different drives, files, folders, flashdrives, etc… He builds and takes some things apart himself, can design and create his own programs, and has been known to keep stuff in storage at odd locations, and basements at friend’s houses, etc…He has his own websites; one with all these layers and trap doors to navigate the website that he tried to show me once but I had no interest, it bored me and I didn’t understand it much anyway.
I’m a smart woman, but Still is a genius. He has even been designing his own internet currency, like bitcoin. He built his own video game. It’s similar to Mario Kart. He writes code, he has designed his own website for sex cam and sex workers which he is operating now here in Missoula, while living at the Opus Aima Obscurae Temple. He’s the only one who knows the program/website he’s building. He uses Linux.
He still works on the UM campus as a KBGA DJ (Bitscape, after Raven Digitalis’s show), wandering around that campus every Saturday night at 2am. He is some kind of narcissist or sociopath who people think is so wonderful, but he’s evil. Part of why people don’t believe me is because I’m the only one who’s seen certain sides of him, and he usually appears to be so together, calm, kind and honest, like a champion for woman and the environment, just a weird, eccentric, misunderstood Shaman on another level of consciousness who doesn’t fit in and is a socially awkward, albeit harmless, spiritual loner. He’s an “Enlightened soul who is ascending into Nirvana and never has to reincarnate again after this life” (Estha told me that). He’s holy with a direct connection to the Gods and speaks the divine language. (Krsna told me that).
I have severe issues from all the trauma and can have outbursts, hysterical meltdowns, panic attacks, become delusional and see/hear things that aren’t real, re-living abuse I do remember, etc….and they all just use that to make me out to be something I’m not to further cover up the truth. It feels like a hopeless fight trying to take them on.
In June 2016, I was staying on a school bus at the Rainbow Gathering. Still had been following us in his car and travelling with us. A lot of bad stuff happened that probably isn’t relevant, but at one point, a woman who been raped 3 miles away in the meadow came to the bus for help. She felt comfortable coming to me, I believe, because I was kind to her and helped her with some clothes and stuff, when other people were mean to her for being black and trans. I did what I could to be there for her, but this set off thoughts about the time 2 years previously.
I confronted Still in his car, asking questions, did Todd rape me? He started muttering and chanting, wouldn’t give a clear answer. He was saying, “Healing…” “time for healing”….over and over and making the mark of a curse at me, speaking curses and chants in other languages at me.
A short time later, at the end of June 2016, we were at Midsummer with the Opus Aima Obscurae Temple Coven camping for the weekend. I tried to tell Raven that I needed to talk to him about something that would be hard for him to hear. I was very sad that I had to tell him the truth about what I thought had happened to me at that point, and scared. I was stupid enough to be in a place of concern for Raven’s feelings and his reaction to hearing that I had been raped. Still has been his best friend for over a decade. They even have the same birthday. I knew it was going to break his heart and I hated that I had to tell him. I tried to tell him I was raped, and kept asking Estha if we could please talk, and she kept putting me off. I couldn’t understand why I was being treated that way until later when I found out they had both known already what happened to me for the last 2 years before I did. We finally did talk the day after returning to the Temple.
Still, Raven, Estha and I sat down in the kitchen at the table and talked.
During that conversation, Estha admitted that she had known about the child and teen porn years before, that Still had confessed that to her, but he “wasn’t a threat to the community”. Estha also admitted that Still had told her about giving me the Ativan and having sex with me, and Todd raping me, after the event 2 years prior, in 2014, and that Still had “Felt very guilty”, “was very upset”, and “He was remorseful”.
Raven, when I asked him directly about Still’s underage porn, admitted “I knew about the teen porn, but not the child porn”.
At one point I came under attack by Estha. Raven, at one point in the hallway to the side when we spoke, told me that “I had my timeline wrong” (I was freaking out over the fact that somewhere between 3-5 weeks of my memory was gone as I believed that was accurate). Raven then told me I hadn’t been drugged but had been “Possessed by a spirit” of a man who had died in my old bedroom years before at the Hobbit Asylum before I lived there.
How did Raven know what the accurate timeline of my memory being gone was? How did he know that the time I believed I had gone without any memory wasn’t correct? Estha is his life partner, and what he considers his twin flame and other half. In their world, she is the embodiment of a Goddess and he the embodiment of a God at certain rituals and pagan holidays. Still tells them everything and has been part of that Temple/Coven from the beginning. Still is even mentioned in an interview with the Coven and Raven going back a decade ago in the Independent.
This is when I completely lost my sanity. I sat in the library of the Temple one day and typed for like 12 hours straight, without stopping to even eat. I just typed and typed until my fingers were swollen, my knuckles cracked and were bleeding. Things start to get kind of disorganized for me, and it’s only bits here and there, certain moments or memories in my life that stand out, and other than that, I don’t remember much for about 5 months.
On July 4, 2016, Still and I were at a motel. I questioned Still again. This is when he told me more about went on.
Still says that he took the Ativan from me, and was giving it to me himself, and that I was asking him to make love to me. He said that Todd came over, and he invited Todd into my bed with me, and I was naked, and Still says he and Todd “cuddled” with me. He says he then left, went to his room, thought Todd left and went to the bathroom, came back down the hallway and saw my door closed, knocked and says that someone said, “everything is ok”.
He has changed his story about this. Once he said he knocked and asked if everything was okay, and says I said, “everything is fine”. Another time he said he doesn’t recall who or what he heard, once he tried to say he wasn’t there at all, another time he admitted he stood outside the door listening to Todd raping me, and I asked him specifically what kind of noises I was making and Still said I was “whimpering and kind of crying”.
I do not whimper during sex, I can actually be too loud, and it’s humiliating if I’m overheard.
I went so insane that I ran around screaming online that I was possessed by a ghost and raped while possessed. Other times I was yelling or ranting on social media that I was drugged for 5 weeks. I lost my sanity so severely that even though I wasn’t drinking or doing drugs other than my prescription medications, I mostly do not remember most of 5 months of my life. To this day I still struggle with weird memory lapses, and some time throughout my days, weeks, and months that is fuzzy or I’m not really sure where it went. I used to have an above average memory, with solid moments I recall in detail from the age of one in my crib. The only blocks I still carry revolve around trauma, and childhood trauma, or during times when I used to be a heavy user.
I still find rants, writing, private messages to people I don’t know, things online in groups that I can’t remember writing…just ranting about life trauma, and all sorts of things I can’t even read. I just have deleted everything I can find. I’ve had times where I’ve emailed the Mayor, the City Council, made calls, just freaking out. It’s absolutely humiliating and it’s horrifying.
I have been trying to put these pieces together and find my way back from this trauma to get justice and closure for years now.
It doesn’t matter if I WAS asking Still to make love to me, he had made a decision at that point to take my controlled 1 month 180MG prescription Ativan and give it to me himself regularly enough to keep me in a blackout for about 3-5 days and have sex with me. I have no idea what I said. He could be just playing that story to try and keep himself in the clear and use what he knows is my greatest desire, to finally be loved, against me. Really it only further shows how sick he is. If I did say that, then it’s still rape. I was not in any way able to give consent, and the memories I do have are extremely upsetting, and include me crying, feeling panicked, scared, like I can’t breath and pain. Those are not consensual emotions! I had no idea what was happening to me!
If I really was asking for lovemaking, then that’s the saddest part of this story to me, that even in the midst of something this traumatic, completely out of my mind, naked, crying and afraid, with no idea what I was saying or what was going on, I was begging my abuser who I was in love with and thought was my trusted best friend to love me instead of continuing to hurt me; that I was reaching for love, comfort, safety and help in the man who was manipulating and drugging me like a puppet to play with. People say all sorts of odd things under the influence in a black out. I had no idea what was going on.
It does not matter how Still, Todd, Raven and Estha try to play this out, or spin what happened. Still took my Ativan, gave it to me himself, he and Todd had sex with me and I can’t remember.
I could have signed a contract of consent on a dotted line while Still was giving me those pills, and what Still and Todd did to me is still rape. I could NOT give consent.
Estha and I had an email conversation once, where she told me that she had talked to Still about not masturbating and touching himself openly and in front of others at Temple events, which involve children. But she never reported it. He told her about the child/teen porn. Estha never reported it. He told her he had given me a controlled substance and had sex with me and Todd had sex with me and felt guilty and I could remember none of it, and she never reported it. Or said a word to me. These people knew what happened to me 2 years before I did, and were around me, staying silent. That’s seriously sick.
At one point, I had a text conversation with Raven and Estha through Raven’s cell phone in which he admitted that they knew about the underage porn before cutting off the conversation. This was in summer or fall of 2016, I believe. Because of my breakdown, I can not remember even which month.
Whatever you need me to sign to release old phone records and my emails from my old account with Estha where she talks about Still masturbating in front of people, I will absolutely sign. The only reason I don’t have them for you today is I forgot the password to access those emails, and that phone was lost.
Estha says I’m “destroying Still’s reputation”, “Creating a crisis”, “full of negative energy”….I’ve been called by them, and others, a liar, delusional, a slut, whore, I’ve been told that I am Hell, or live in Hell, that I deserved or wanted it, that I manifested my rapes, that it is my karmic debt to pay in this life, that I’m a “manipulative sociopath” (Beth, the other roommate, called me that), energy vampire, that I’m an abuser, the list goes on and on. I’ve even been told that if I committed suicide, I would be stuck in a limbo for all eternity suffering as a haunted spirit that can never move on, or have to reincarnate and repeat everything all over again, only much worse in the next life until I make what I did to deserve to be raped in this life right again and correct my karmic debt in the next life.
Still said that I was sexually assaulted as a child because I brought it onto myself by manifesting it, and it was part of my karmic debt to pay in this life.
Still took video of me on his old cell phone. I don’t know if he kept it or was smart enough to ditch it, but I pretty sure he showed Raven and Estha. He was trying to use video of me naked, crying hysterically and pulling some posters off the wall as proof that I was insanely abusive. Part of his gaslighting, capturing me hysterical in a moment of abuse.
If that video still exists and you find it, please don’t put my fat, disgusting naked body freaking out in the middle of abuse in open court as evidence. Please, it will kill me.
That video was taken I believe around September 2014. Not during the time I was drugged. It was taken in the privacy of our home, without my consent, and if I remember clearly, I believe I yelled at him to stop filming me.
The last time I tried to get Still to talk about this was in December. That’s where the screenshot came from, he’s trying to change his story again. At one point, he brought Misty N (Todd’s girlfriend, or ex girlfriend) to where I was renting a room. He didn’t tell me who he was bringing. I think he had a lot of fun watching me trying to keep it together and talk about Todd raping me, and listening to Misty going on and on about the abuse he had put her through. He came across on the guise that he cared about Misty and was speaking out against Todd, supporting me in going after Todd for raping me, and trying to help Misty and her kids.
Estha has tried to play this angle too, basically pushing everything in the direction that I overtook my Ativan and blacked out, Still was merely trying to take care of me and didn’t realize the sex was not consensual, did not know Todd had raped me and that I had no memory or idea what was happening the entire time. Then she tried to push that guilt onto me for not reporting a rape I didn’t know had happened to me for 2 years, scolding me about how “reporting rape was my responsibility”, in an effort to deflect from the truth of what Still did, and how she and Raven knew about it, and other sex crimes, and never reported them to the police themselves. That was one of the things she pulled in the kitchen at the Temple that day 2 years ago when we all talked.
This was the Temple and Coven I was going to dedicated to for life. The High Priest and High Priestess, something I took very seriously and venerably. I watched everything from the way I did my hair and wore my makeup for rituals, to how I spoke or moved out of the impressions of respect of the coven caste system of authority and proper conduct in ritual. There were dress codes, instructions, rules, regulations, codes of secrecy and silence, and they even gave us Mushrooms at times in rituals. It was a very intense, fiercely loyal bond and dedication to them on my end, and I was very blind. There was extreme backlash if I did anything out of line. Posting a pic of my face-paint from Beltane on Facebook or doing something my way in ritual was met with harsh reaction from Estha. Complete control with her or she will tear you down, gaslight you and rip you apart.
In my mind during that time in my life, there was no going to the police. I tried once about Still’s underage porn and was torn to pieces. I was then excluded and treated horribly by everyone in the circle, and I thought at the time that was the family I’d always been looking for.
You turn to your High Priest and High Priestess, and if they say you are bad, that you are wrong and destroying lives, a vampire who preys on others energy, is destructive and full of harmful negative energy, that you’re the threat who’s hurting everyone, then you are. These are the people you love and look up to the most in the world telling you that, so I folded. I hated myself instead. I still hate myself for not standing my ground 3 years ago over the child porn.
Many people say the Temple is money machine. I could go off on that, but Raven did tell me that he gives money to his mother to put into a different account so they don’t have to claim it under non-profit rules or as income, and Still told me that Raven and Estha have been saving to move to Hawaii for a few years now. That really has nothing to do with my case, other than maybe me outing their involvement in hiding sex crimes could come back on them, or maybe reveal if they are up to anything shady on the financial end, and that could be part of why they cover for Still. That’s all hearsay.
I am willing to testify about everything and anything I remember, and that I was put through, the rest of Still’s abuse, what others have told me, and what I saw with my own eyes while living with Still. I have been working very hard to get to this point, to find the truth, and put together everything I can for you guys to hopefully help me get some justice, some closure, keep others in this community safe, and then maybe I can heal as much as possible for someone like me and live the best life possible with what I have left.
I can’t talk most the time when it comes to this. If we have to go to court, I’ll need to type and then read my responses. I can have seizures and heart issues that are triggered when I get too upset. I have panic and asthma attacks. This is going to be extremely difficult for me.
Still knew me for almost a decade. He was my best male friend. We had been lovers at times over the years. I thought he was my life partner and soul mate. Still knows me, some of my previous sexual assault and life trauma history, and he knows I’m very disabled. He absolutely knew what he was doing to me during those 3-5 days, and the rest of the nearly a year I lived with him.
Still, Todd, Estha and Raven murdered my soul. They all left my body alive, but everything they put me through destroyed my heart, mind, sanity, soul and body in ways that can never heal or be repaired. My lifespan has been shortened, while I was disabled before, now I’m so ill that I spend most my time in bed. I won’t ever be healthy enough to pursue the career or family dreams I had.
My physical, emotional and mental health have drastically worsened since this event, ,and ensuing abuse I survived while living with Still. I have some kind of seizure disorder, I have battled bouts of incontinence where I wet myself multiple times daily for weeks or months. Sometimes this can still happen. I was nearly blind on/off for a few weeks. I lost my voice for 3 or 4 months straight. I have dangerously high blood pressure and heart pain/fast beating, etc….
I’m not able to exercise or do the things I used to. I have a myriad of problems with my insides, and part of that is from other trauma and damage from my suicide attempts. After that event, I remember that I was in a lot of pain and very sore. I have had issues with a hemmoroid and rectal bleeding at times, and the first time I noticed that slight bleeding after I wiped was after that time, but I can’t remember when after and I don’t know if I was anally raped too or if that issue unrelated to that event. I was also very ill from being given 180mg Ativan within 3-5 days and then no longer having any at all.
Parts of my life began to disappear, and other than certain specific memories, a lot of those months living with Still are vague and blurry. There was extreme abuse that I had to survive (and having already survived a lot of abuse in my life), I think I wasn’t really mentally there a lot, or I just went through daily monotonous activities like watching movies and hanging out on social media to cope. I never felt good. At Temple events, I was always off by myself trying to find a place to lay down, or rest. Being on my feet was so hard I struggled to get through rituals, or would participate in another way, like drumming, so that I could be sitting. I spent a lot of time laying down in the bed in the Temple room. It was embarrassing, and I felt very left out.
Estha was very hard on me. One time in private coven invite ritual that involved dancing for hours, Estha talked about letting the vag and titties fly (meaning vagina and breasts) while we were dancing. I couldn’t participate in that ritual until I felt comfortable enough with the dress code that I would stay completely covered. This meant altering the assigned dress code to secure more clothing. I was holding onto what I had tied around me during ritual, and at one point, I just got so ill that I nearly collapsed. I couldn’t breath, I went to the bathroom and was on the floor, throwing up and choking, crying. After a few minutes, I pulled myself together, washed out my mouth and my face, and I went back to ritual and finished. With Still standing right there staring at me, smiling his creepy smile.
Estha said I was “Disruptive in ritual” and I was never invited back to a private event. That’s when some of what she was saying about me behind my back being toxic to the Coven and Temple, and full of negative energy, started coming around to me through other people, Still, and from her directly.
I tried my best, but it was like everyone was either too busy, self-involved, judgmental over my behavior that they didn’t understand, or a part of hiding the truth they did know about, to see that I was very sick and hurt, and needed help and a real friend. Nobody ever took the time to really try to get to know me, or even let me speak or have a voice or opinion.
The rest of my life, while hard already, will continue to be a daily fight against death and trauma so deep that there’s no escape from the suffering.
These are people who are supposed to be positive role models and upstanding members in our community helping other people. They are wolves in sheep’s clothing.
I would press charges for the abuse Still put me though if I could and the statute hadn’t run out. I literally couldn’t speak out again after the child porn fiasco before July 2016. It’s taken me 2 more years to get to a place where I could do this, start to understand what happened to me, find my way through the insanity enough to make some sense of what’s happened to me, and get you guys enough to hopefully build a case. I’ll need years of psychotherapy to even be a little bit okay at this point. Still is sadist. He tortured me at times.
This is a transcript of one of his posts in 2014 where he discusses his version of abuse he put me through one day on his FetLife profile. He was willing to put this on his profile, with his picture, in his own words online. He really believes he is untouchable.
(the previous lover’s house he was at that he speaks of in this post before he returned home to me was Krsna (Rain/Christine):
“Getting to Know my Inner Psycho Dom”
As I walked into the cool, late-winter night, something within me that had been dormant for a long, long time awakened once more. An old, familiar sensation stirring somewhere inside, not exactly physical, but not entirely removed from physicality either. Was this experience just in the mental realm? Or maybe, if I opened up my inner perceptions enough, I might be able to feel the areas inside my brain where the cells were coming alive, triggering these thoughts that beckoned at the edge of even being possible to articulate. Somewhere deep within the frontal lobe, I could feel the activity abuzz.
I pondered, remembering previous times when similar flavors of this type of mental/physical experience had occurred, and conducting internal self-interrogation of my senses and perceptions, as these thoughts tried to understand what this aspect of myself was all about. At a profound level, I’ve always found this particular cocktail of feelings very unpleasant. Mentally, the thoughts arising from them tend to focus on the hopelessness of existing adrift in what can seem a cold and vastly indifferent world, echoes from old adolescent fears. On a rational level, I knew these were just thoughts, caused not by logic, but by emotional currents, or maybe I was simply grasping the essential truth of life’s suffering, in the buddhist sense. But what was coming to life within me?
It was hungry. Not just hungry, it had been starved! And cold, so cold; the chilly air outside was a much milder reflection of this feeling within. Was this an area of my brain that had been deprived of energy for so long it went dead? Now revived, I had a hunch why. On this walk, I was returning from a visit to the home of a former lover from long ago who recently returned to live nearby. All those years ago, she was the one who brought me to this lovely mountain town I came to call home. She was also a teacher who helped me realize I have the power to be whatever sort of person I choose to be. This awareness had been reawakened while I danced by the fire hours earlier in bare feet on the raw earth. “I do not have to manifest as a burnout! I can choose to be grounded, awake, and truly alive!”
But now, I found myself returning to the reality in which being a burnout had become my default coping strategy. The living situation with my “partner” (as she liked to call me) had been deteriorating for months. Earlier in the week, things had reached a tipping point, and my trust had been violated in an extreme way. The details need not be shared here, but suffice it to say I no longer felt safe at all to be sharing a dwelling with this person, and had gotten very little sleep during those days and nights.
As I approached the house, I knew what she would be wanting more than anything, but I also knew I could not give that to her. Not now. But also, I was free, I could be whatever I wanted to be. She was not going to get the “me” that she expected and hoped for. I contemplated simply skipping the stop at home to go straight on to my radio gig and avoid any unpleasantness…but that was still several hours away…and I shouldn’t have to avoid my own home for fear of another upsetting incident…so I faced the inevitable, and entered….
My own memory of the details on exactly how things unfolded from there is a bit sketchy. I remember her initial reaction of being so glad to see me again after I had been gone all day. Obviously, she wanted everything to be back to normal again. She offered to smoke a bowl with me. Very rarely would I decline such an offer, but this time, it was out of the question. “I don’t think so.”
What followed after that? Was it sarcasm? I was so outside the bounds of what I normally consider myself, even the next day, my memory of how it unfolded went blurry. Even if I could remember the exact exchange, most of the time, I wouldn’t be able to duplicate the type of behavior I was exhibiting even if I made an effort to act that way. Everything came automatically. She was getting increasingly upset, and I was just standing there casually, playing with words, almost just for the hell of it to see what sort of reaction they might trigger. It was all so very easy. Too easy. Nothing she could offer me would elicit any reaction except scorn. I was utterly beyond giving a fuck about her fragile feelings. In that moment, I wasn’t even angry at all. It was all just a big joke, and now I was free to laugh. Or was I?
She went outside to smoke a cigarette, perhaps hoping that when she came back in, I would be back to normal. But instead, I just let myself become more twisted, letting my inner psycho off the leash.
She cried. “Why are you doing this? Why are being this way?”
“Why do you think?” The response came out of me in a mocking tone, to instantly bounce her own question back at her. At that moment, I honestly had no particular answer in mind, but she did.
“Because I [censored-.” Her own feelings of guilt, which were obviously at the forefront of her mind, provided a plausible explanation for my change in personality. I couldn’t honestly deny it either, but this reason didn’t occur to me until after she had said it. I was just being in the moment, newly liberated once more, unbounded by the expections or feelings of obligation to be tender and kind. She thought I was punishing her. So I let her believe it.
She went outside to smoke another cigarette. It had been many months since I had given up on trying to be her Dom, and she had given up on trying to be my sub. That stint had stretched the limits of my “service-oriented” capacity; after being begged a few too many times to “dominate” her on occasions when I just felt like was being a sub. I joked that maybe when she took control of me and held my leash, then she could then “make” me dominate her and see how that goes.
But all that was now the distant past. Now she was returning again. She walked up to me and knelt on the floor, an act that had to have been painful for her given her physical condition. “I’m so very very sorry. I’ll never do it again. Please. Please forgive me.”
“I already have.” It was true. With this, I felt compassion begin to arise once more inside. Even so, this did not mean I could feign tenderness, and even if I did feel genuine sympathy, to go back to cuddling now would have meant opening myself up to more violations of trust. “Whether I forgive you or not, things between us have changed. I am not what you think I am. You don’t really know me at all.”
And just to prove it, I went right back into channeling that starved, psychotic, inapproachable coldness that had been eating at the inside of my brain from the other side of the void in a world gone mad since a time before my first conscious memories were formed.
“Can’t you see how you’re destroying the good that’s left in me? Is that really what you want to do?” she pleased. It was true. I was tearing away whatever faith she had left, and what’s worse, I had no idea why anymore. Yes, I could manifest as whatever I wanted to be, but the “I” behind these choices had become disconnected from any substance or conscious intention.
I had scared her enough. It was time to stop. I told her to just stay the hell away from me, and returned to my room.
With a radio show scheduled just a couple hours away, I needed to be getting ready. But first, I felt a desperate need to let myself rest, just for a moment. Almost uncontrollably, my head hit the pillow…and did not wake up until 30 seconds to airtime. Karma. In such a state of mind, I was unfit to be controlling the public airwaves anyway. Better to burn out then find myself turning into one of those public figures who secretly abuses the powerless before going out to show the world how wonderful they are.
Even if I didn’t lay a hand on her, and only told a few bad jokes, and even if she was just trying to be a manipulative little crybaby who couldn’t handle a little sarcasm, the jolting shift to my own sense of identity gave me reason to pause.
Upon reflection, I’ve come to recognize that if I could integrate these repressed aspects of self, and activate that quick-witted, biting, confident ruthlessness at will, in the presence of anybody, without having to be driven to my wits end before it kicks in, perhaps I could be quite a kickass Dom…
But between “normal” me and that self, I see a lifetime of conditioning that has told me since a very young age that I must be a people-pleaser. In many ways, this is beneficial. When it arises out of a genuine desire to help and care for other, I take pride in this caregiving, service-oriented self, both in my kinky life and otherwise. But when caring and being nice to people has become something I do out of a deep-seated, automatic, unconscious fear that kept me imprisoned in a box of a false self that cannot help but avoid doing anything that might offend or make anyone uncomfortable, and I’m in this mode so often and so long that I forget it’s even possible for me to be any other way, staying in relationship well past the point of unhealthy, just to avoid causing others pain…That needs to be shaken up, because some part of my self that needs to be a full, complete person has been starving for too long, and when it comes around and eventually wakes up, I don’t want it to be so ravenous as to cause true harm.
Since that night, she has thankfully moved on to a more suitable living situation, and I’ve gone through another period of retreating back into my shell for a while as I sought my bearing once more in the endeavor to understand the true self behind all these choices and endless layers of constructed identity, with the help of a bit of solitude. Inevitably, the need to connect again will arise, and this process has begun already….
“Speak to us of Good and Evil
And he answered:
Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil,
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?
When good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirst it drinks even of dead waters”
-Kahil Gibran, “The Prophet”