I never really believed I was an abductee even though I exhibited all the classic symptoms.  As a child I suffered from horrible nightmares and would awaken screaming at the person or persons standing over my bed. I refused to go to sleep alone because Mother refused to allow me to sleep with the lights in my room on.   When I went to college I slept with the lights on so seldom woke up knowing "they" were there.    Later when I lived out on my own  I also found that in addition to sleeping  with the lights on,  having a cat or two sleep at the foot of my bed assured me  I was less likely to be awakened to that horrible fear during the night.   That the cat or cats seemed to keep the nightmares away.     After I got married sleeping with the lights on wasn't really practical.  We had cats so between them and my husband my nightmares were few and far between.   However, my husband learned early that he would expect occassionally to be awaked by me screaming at the person I could see standing over me.

     In 1992 my oldest daughter starting having problems.  She wouldn't sleep at night and began refusing to leave the house.  She had to be hospitalized for depression.  She explained to the doctors that she could see things and hear voices that no one else could hear.  She stated that "they" kept her awake at night and that she was afraid she wasn't safe from them at school.  She was given antidepressents and placed in a special class for Seriously Emotionally Ill children.  She did not do well in school and had to be rehospitalized several times.   In the Spring of 1994 we began to run out of treatment options for her and could not force her to go to school.   Her father and I petitioned Juvenile Court for help with her so she was taken out of our home and placed in State Custody.   They had her rehospitallized again.

    Meanwhile, time things at home went from bad to worse for my youngest daughter and myself.  My stress levels at work went through the roof and my body began to degenerate. I took medical leave in April, 1995. By June my husband decided  I wasn't going to live much longer if things didn't change so he ordered me to officially resign from my job because due to ill health.    Since I had resigned due to illness I applied for medical retirement and for Social Security disability benefits. The official diagnoses was Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

     Though I had numerous physical problems including a severely distressed immune system, the doctors had told me that almost all my physical problems linked by the PTSD.   I asked my Psychologist what kind of stress did he believe was causing the trauma.  He said I'd have to dig the answers to that question out for myself.  He could help but he had no idea how far back the trauma went. He stated that whatever it was actually continuing and worsening so I was not going to get better until we found the stressor and removed it.

    As therapy on my own outside my weekly visits with the Psychologist I started trying to relax and remember all the good things that had happened in my life. I felt that if I could bring out the good memories that it would be easier to see what changed in my life to cause the stress.  I was on antidepressents and felt that I could help   eached the door.  The loud thump had been him running into the front door in his wild flight to escape the presence in the bedroom.

    I got very very mad. It was bad enough for "them" to come back and began scarring me again but scarring Bubba was inexcusable. I told them I wasn't going to I co-operate with them any more.  I would not look at them anymore so they could never steal my memories again.   I pulled my quilt over my head and went back to sleep.

The next morning Bubba had a sore shoulder and the following night he refused to sleep on the bed. Instead he took to sleeping on the top of the Highboy chest where he was right on eye level with anyone who was short like me.   I realized he had taken up a position from which he could attack anything that came close to us.   He did this for a few nights but eventually he stopped sleeping in either our bedroom.  For some reason he wouldn't sleep in our daughter's room either.

    After a few more incidents I started sleeping with the lights on again.  Moreover,  my youngest daughter started complaining about the things that were happening to her. I hadn't told her what I thought was going on. The things that were happening to her were different than what I was experiencing at the time, but mirrored experiences I had in my youth.   Things I had never discussed with her or my husband. 

When she began getting nose bleeds and complaining of the little grey man who had bothered Kathleen so badly was now waking her up at night.  It was at this point that I knew I had to face the fact that not only was I having abduction experiences,  she was having them, and her sister had been having abduction experiences at the time she had left home.   

    I've had the same Psychologist for 9 1/2 years and trust him very much I have discussed all the memories with him. He believes that I am not making this up nor am I delusional. He also doesn't believe in alien abduction.    process of getting well along if I started to concentrate on the many wonderful things that had happened during my childhood.

    As I get looking for the good memories I began to realize that a lot of the good stuff that should have been there wasn't. There were blanks in my memory. I'd remember clearly up to a certain point then everything was gone. It abruptly cut off and then would start up again kind of like a video tape someone had erased parts of. That bothered me a lot so I decided to just try writing thing down in a stream of consciousness.  I was looking for the past and it began to come back with the stress in the present. Apparently in order to get the old memories I had broken through the protection I had raised and now I could also be aware what was happening in the present.

  My earliest Abduction Experience seems to have occurred in 1951, when I was 4 years old, during a drive from California to Texas.    My father,  a Staff Sergeant in the US Air Force,  having been stationed at Wheeler Field on the island of Oahu in Hawaii was being transferred to San Antonio, Texas.   The first part of our journey, from Honolulu to San Francisco had been aboard the U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson.    My parents had gotten a car when we docked in San Francisco so we could complete our journey . 

 
    [According to my mother the following incident occurred while we were stopped for the night in somewhere in New Mexico.]
    Back then the motel conditions  were rather primative, the heat in the reception area of the lodge where we were staying that night was provided by a cast iron coal stove.  Mother stated she had warned me not to touch it as the stove was extremely hot.   However, having no experience with heaters of that type and being a curious brat, I put my hand flat up against it.  When I pulled my hand away I had second and third degree burns on my fingers and the palm of my hand.  Mother stated the manager of the lodge put some ointment on it and she put me to bed.    I went to sleep with a severe, painful burn and awoke up with no pain. The hand healed completely within a couple of days.   Mother said I never cried or complained about it.   She said she never understood what had happened to stop the pain .

    What she never knew was that my "magic friends" had come that night.   That they had taken me to their "special place" where they had taken away the pain.  She didn't know that I knew they taken my mother to the "special place" and told her to give me a special present as a sign it was they that had helped me.  When I had awakened the next morning I had two Navajo Dolls on my pillow.I knew my "magic friends" had told her to get them for me.  I hadn't ask Mother for them but I had told my "magic friends" how much I wished Mother would buy them for me.  From that day on I  called them my wishing dolls and I wouldn't play with them as they were much too special.

  Until about 18 months ago I had no memory of what occurred that night.   I only knew that after that night I was afraid to go out at night by myself  because I would "see things"  I did not want to see.  Today, I know my fear of "seeing things" arose because I began  flashbacks of the first time have in saw "the ship".    Now I remember going out into the dark with my "magic friends" and seeing their "special place" sitting there with an open place in the hull.   I can remember seeing the ramp that went between the ship and the ground. Today I remember seeing the ship and being terribly frightened of going way.  I remember right up until the point when I became very frightened and no further.

As for the  actual "what they did when they had me on the table." I don't have a lot to say about that.  I don't really want to remember what they do to me.  I do know that the stories of the examining tables and the examinations are true as I can remember watching  it happen once.  For me once was enough.   It was like being in pre-op waiting for surgery and being allowed to watch the person before you get cut open and worked on.