Personal Childhood And Past Trauma Stories:
The Email That Got My Imprisoned Dad Atacked
It's 2021
I have a large repertoire of healings. Years of gathering, refining, and channeling them— Health healings. Justice healings. Breakout healings. I’m good at writing them out so others can use them.
So one day, I decide to gather as many as I can and send them in an email to my Dad. He’s in prison.
The email is packed. Everything I can think of— instructions, invocations, energetic phrasing.
I told him: “Let whoever needs it… use whatever they need.”
Because I don’t hoard healing. I don’t gatekeep. I have my soul set to fragment out— to go wherever I’m needed. To help, in whatever form I’m allowed.
Right after I send the email, the entire prison confiscates all inmate devices and replaces them with new tablets. A massive, expensive rollout— new hardware for everyone.
My dad’s more upset about the music. Over a decade of collecting, gone. But I know it’s not about the music. It’s about my email.
My intuition is confirmed when they call him into a private office to confront him.
They ask him: “Is your daughter trying to scam people?” He tells them, “No. It’s completely free. She’s just trying to help. She’s a spiritual healer.”
They ask if he needs a psych evaluation. And he says: “No. I’m perfectly sane. I’m a Christian. I don’t need one.”
A month later, I get word my father had three strokes in a row.
No contact allowed. No family updates. Just silence. I’m told he might be on his way out.
The truth is: My desire to help put my dad— a man who follows every rule to the letter— in a spotlight.
A spotlight that invited attack. Psychic. Intentional. Violent in the unseen.
Kate and I worked for months to get it off of him. Clearing the damage. Undoing the knots. Rebuilding what they tried to sever.
To make it worse— the person I was dating at the time and someone I thought was a friend were actively working against us, amplifying the harm, keeping him fucked up from a distance. But we didn’t give up.
As of September 2022, my dad is still here. He’s in main camp. His health is stable—pretty good, actually— but he has brain damage from what they did.
And yet… he’s alive. And I know why.
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