Everyone that knows me knows I have always been a notoriously picky eater. It has gotten exponentially better in adulthood but I was the only kid at birthday parties growing up that refused to eat pizza. Always. From kindergarten to grade 12; not a single slice of pizza.
Does that sound normal?
I loved cheese. That was my bagged lunch everyday for years. American cheese on white bread. But pizza? Nope. For some reason the gooey texture made me really uncomfortable and the instinct was to stay far away.
In adulthood I was the guy with the very adult office but known for getting salads with zero dressing like a child would. Always. That chicken sandwich from Olives? Always just chicken only on focaccia ; no mayo or anything else ever. There goes that aversion to white goo again.
Starting to see a pattern here?
The resistance to trying to understand why I was so repulsed by certain foods and textures literally felt like two positively charged supermagnets repelling each other. A block that was impossible to ever get past or peer over.
It wasn't until I had my first flashback in my office on November 15th 2016 while reading this exact Reddit post that I started putting two and two together. I was 31 years old then and by that point I actually grew to love pizza after alcohol lowered my inhibitions outside Bar None that one time in my early twenties. Who knew booze could be such a valuable part of exposure therapy? Heyoo.
One of my first thoughts after the flashback though was; oh... I think I finally understand all that weird food stuff now. I have been doing everything in my power all these years to try to avoid reminding myself of whatever that horrific experience just was.
At the time it was shocking to think that I had been sexually abused even just one time. Now, a decade later I know the truth to be far more unfortunate. There's a whole catalog of experiences and it's part of a government program I was born into called Mk Ultra 'Project Monarch'. There are many abusers from my infancy to adulthood; many of them in authority positions of various kinds. At this time I only feel comfortable naming four publicly and I do so with absolute certainty...
Lawrence Auli (legal father)
Charles Rooney (uncle on Lawrence's side)
Adam Soutar (old boss at Post Millennium)
Sean Le Roux (work-trade host in Hawaii)
Lawrence was the head of the house growing up and it started around birth for me. Charles was FBI for 36 years and it happened at his home when I was young. Soutar comes from a wealthy Canadian family and turns out all those Post Millennium company trips to Zermatt came with a hidden price. Sean Le Roux owns a Hawaiian tour company, two homes, spiked my smoothie, and raped me while I still was legally homeless last year.
The list goes on and a handful are from the industry I used to work in. In my adulthood I honestly don't know if it was all rohypnol or some of these people had been given some sort of instructions to elicit or access an "alter" personality of mine at will as a result of being looped into Project Monarch's intelligence and tactics.
I have never willingly engaged in a homosexual act except that one time I went rollerblading with my childhood friend Morgan. I have also gone to great lengths to verify it was just the sunday scaries those two times I woke up worried that that chick might have secretly been a dude first. ( gotta lighten a mood a little here :) )
It's wild it's been a decade since that first flashback and being five thousand miles away from my hometown has allowed so much more to come to the surface regardless of everyone's efforts to ensure the opposite. The truth heals; no matter how difficult that truth may be.
Everyone watch those buns out there okay? Especially your kids'. Apparently they're a hot commodity in this strange world we've found ourselves in today.
If you've ever been to 66 Keane Lane in East Northport; especially for an overnight stay... take an honest inventory on yourself. I am certain I am far from alone.
It's all gonna be alright. Eventually.