Starting My Story of Struggle and Survival Through the Plandemic
a rambling prologue
"You know, you should tell your story. Write down what you went through in our workplace."
Pete looked right at me, making sure I saw the look on his face, indicating he meant it. That he was serious.
I didn't skip a beat and latched onto his brevity eagerly because it was exactly what I needed to hear.
"..And what else I went through since all this started... That's a really good idea, Pete."
Yep and it's one of endless ideas I already had, then accidentally dropped while I kept on treading a fucked up plandemic path, trying not to skip any beats. I would've thought of writing a kind of autobiographical story over a year ago, and I would've shared that idea with Pete at the time too.
Me being me, I knew that advice given to friends like this, is also advice I needed to take on board for myself. And valued friends really shine here, serving as a reminder that I did have valuable ideas. And that I really should follow through with the idea, because my friends valued it enough to follow through with it too!
I read Forlorn Fimbul's latest story yesterday to be reminded once more of how constructively cathartic sharing one's unabashedly raw experiences can be. A timely reminder indeed - I knew I had to focus on sharing my story of struggles to survive as well.
I must give weight to personal experiences, see whether I can alleviate my grief - those events which tested sanity by simply surviving on a day to day basis - those harrowing, interminable days spent desperately clutching my sheer takes on reality as the only way I could explain a plandemic's insanity...
Oh Lawdy, twas many a struggle endured. Feeling a way through insurmountable onslaughts of deranged scenarios, staining poisoned paint onto 2020's abhumanized landscape. A landscape dominated by the twin megalithic specters of bio-pharmacological terror-war and the utmost banality of evil represented as digitized death constantly encroaching into your soul via mutated social communication channels and a craven addiction for conveniences.
It's so important that we all whom struggled for survival (and do survive today) share our story. Speak it up: voicing utterances, let it out and make it real. Set yourself the task; quell your mind, cut off present chaos and distraction. Then still your emotions, sit up, contemplate.
Remember traumas, those little details lost out of the not too far gone past but don't drown in them. I realize I'm writing as a catharsis, a method for preparation of some headspace to rediscover myself in again. This is going to be a difficult path to take for me - yet I must go at it with gusto.
A shimmering outline of a potential thematic structure fades into my mind's eye. I will try to combine what I've learned on perception management, psychological operations, cognitive warfare and online behavioral insights in each part of my story.
I will write, write, write until it solidifies and makes some sort of sense.
I hope you'll gain insight and empowerment from my experimenting with an unorthodox approach; and I hope you'll discover why I did it, perhaps provide some suggestions or guidance along the way because at this stage, I'm keenly aware of embarking on an insane trek for reasons obfuscated.
It should be as cathartic for this author to write as it is a captivating story for this audience to read. The core theme is this: You do have value. In fact, you're still human and there's many others like you out there.
So... suddenly.. we're *not* *that* insane today.
Reflecting Off Forlon Fimbul
I caught up with an acquaintance last night for a brief chat and smoke. I did my dishes, sweeped the kitchen floor and vacuumed carpets in anticipation of having a real-life flesh and blood person be my guest.
Sounds silly but it's rare to see friends in real life these days. And me being me, a naturally scatter-gunning type of rancoteur, I relish any chance to have a real life conversation!
My acquaintance came and there was a stilted conversation. He asked about any of my unvaccinated friends - we get by somehow. Sometimes we have to spiral off into our own nexus for a spell. No real reasons as to why but as I write this, I guess it's because there's a shared difficulty of how to come to terms with the world now, and how the plandemic relates to our present and future position in life. My acquaintance left with a hug that felt only a little like Moderna.
So I resonated the dark countenances reflecting off Forlorn's article. Things have gotten so abhuman for me lately. Sometimes consecutive days pass without me making a single utterance. It's not due to being shy or having nothing to say: it's the opposite. I have too much to say and without others to say it to, I'm inevitably going to be weighed down by it.
A heavy burden of human knowledge unresolved and gathering dust. The urge squeezes out as stifled whimpers while clutching a pillow or cigarette. My eyes welled up as twilight deepens into familiar darkness once more - of where I sought succor through isolated drudgery by sleeping too long, too much.
Forlorn Online
Reading (and having some first hand knowledge of) the extent of Pete's paradoxical relationship with LinkedIn reflects onto me as to how slowly but surely, my brainstorm of multiple accounts across dozens of online platforms were rendering themselves unimportant. Potentially to be rendered impotent too, due to how catastrophically world, mind and life-altering the plandemic turned out to be.
Whereas Pete's presence on Linkedin is exemplary due to him embodying somewhat of an anachronism (yes it's anomalous to have an honest, forthright and engaging voice whom people appreciated and valued on that Micro$oft owned shithole), my presence on any online platforms seemed negligible where ever I turned my attention.
I know this isn't true because I'm continuing to make meaningful connections online that should evolve into valued relationships for me. If there wasn't a chance in hell of evolving online connections into real-life flesh and blood conversations, then I'd be long gone by now. It feels like being cheated out of reality when there's slim possibility of IRL ("In Real Life") meetings. The world is a different place now compared to when I was making and meeting friends of all ages and places around the world initially via chatting on Internet Relay Chat.
Damned be today's world! I'll still cling onto that nostalgia! In other words, I am valued and still find things or people worthy of not just attention but value, respect and love. Yet damned be today because at the end of today, in my real life, I am heart-breakingly alone.
It is a constant struggle for allowing one's self to trust anything, anyone. So writing it out should assist me in exploring reasons as to why I struggle to trust.
I'm spending time consciously staying away from online battles and wars. I've done a lot in this area, it's the right time for me to take a break.
-Forlon Fimbul
Heed those words, my readers and I. Aint that the truth?
Risk Practitioner's Traumas
Like Pete, I'm a risque practitioner who had a similarly devastating time once the dawn of 2020's plandemic found one's self working in the Insurance Industry. There's some deep, deep trauma there so I'm not gonna attempt any delving or transcribing of it yet (it's so compressed and compartmentalized).
Suffice to say it almost ended me. It would have ended me if I complied with Western Australia's Mandatory Workplace Covid-19 Vaccinations (read more about it here). Ugh, just clicking that article stirred up blood-drenched apparitions that the government unleashed onto unvaccinated people like me... Lots of deepness for exploring and writing out in that period...
Traumas that are survived through together instigate a binding, or bonding with the others whom you've identified as a fellow trauma survivor. Therefore I formed a familial-type relationship with my ex-employers during the times we struggled to survive through the plandemic.
In a way this fake familial bond was a saving grace for my frenetic, manic and plandemic-embattled psyche. I worked harder than ever before, discovering a different side to me which I learned to relish. It was a more on-the-fly side of me where I was capable of working superhuman hours each day, taking on preposterous amounts of catastrophic weather event claims as if I was born to do so.
At one stage I was managing a property and farmpack claims portfolio of approximately $10-13 million AUD of insured losses all by myself (Cyclone Seroja - March 2021) This was during the same time that the ex-bosses' wife who also worked with us was diagnosed with a potentially terminal illness (I didn't even know until months later because no one told me), Our maniacal State Premier continued unleashing public health terrors, fucking our daily lives via implementation of senseless three day long "circuit breaker" lockdowns, nonsensical facial mask mandates, maximum capacity restrictions for all public areas and venues and a continued closure of Western Australia's interstate borders.
I was kidding myself and soon I could no longer thrive on such extreme unpredictability or the adversity left in its' wake.
The ex-bosses then sold the business, new boss eh? I struggled on for another six months where I made the new bosses buy me beer all the while being gaslit, bullied, intimidated, ostracized, cajoled, mindfucked by being the only non-mRNA gene therapy injected employee in the entire business.
I got fired at the end of this too, oh and I had to suffer through much more shit too. It was as if the roof was caving in.
My grandmother died, aged 95 (of covid-19...) in Gdansk during Christmas 2021. She was hanging on for dear life just to see me one last time and it was miserable when she saw me one last time through Whatsapp's video livestream.
I promised I would go to Poland and be her palliative carer and subconsciously I knew she would hang on until I arrived, so I would speak with her sparingly until it became obvious I couldn't leave the state of Western Australia anyway because I was unvaccinated and under border travel restrictions.
so I ended 2021 terminated by my new bosses right before the Christmas holidays after being gaslit for 6+ months by my workplace, my peers, my government and saddest of all, my friends and family.
I remain non-mRNA gene injected and wonder how the fuck will I ever be able to take anyone seriously who is injected - or trust them...
Gaining a better understanding of just how totally mind fucked my once fellow humans are will be my first step towards trying for trust.
Working Backwards - Were Not Taught What to Think: We're Taught What to Say
This clip starts about 15 minutes into the interview and the transcript is below.
You have to get to the place where you're open to the possibility that what you were told isn't true.
You have to recognize that you weren't personally responsible or accountable for the information that you were believing.
You actually have to realize that you trusted an authority who may have lied to you.
You now have to deal with the fact you may have hurt yourself by absorbing that information. And you might have hurt others by absorbing that information.
You then have to muster up the level of anger and betrayal that comes with realizing 1 through 4.
And then six is: now what? What do you do?
Because you then have to realize that you have become complicit in an arrangement that could possibly destroy your very existence. And that's pretty deep - it's brilliant propaganda!..
..we've had amazing tricks in the series of steps that I've just talked about that have created the kinds of robots that were seeing in our culture today and in our world. Because for you to really think on your own, you've gotta go through some maaaajor steps to realize what the truth might really be.
And that's earth shattering!
Finding a sage and simplifying voice like Dr Larry Palevsky's gave me a lot of hope. He states a series of six programmatic steps that are required learning if you want to save your fellow man.
Dr Pavelsky's whole podcast is great (and so is his career as a Paediatrician) but specifically the section outlining six programmatic steps will prove to be priceless. I believe it to be a wonderful tool for us to covet, and customize. Better yet, see if you can incorporate this tool into your real, daily life. Speak up and wield it linguistically!
Can you imagine that? A priceless tool at your disposal with which you continuously strengthen your understanding of behavioural insights?
And I urge you to plumb it's depths of usage - for your story of struggle and survival - which truth be told has yet begun.
Study how Dr Palevsky uses intentionally affected mannerisms of speech for expressing an uniquely wonderful way with words. What is he saying again? You could wonder how Dr Palevsky's succinct manner highlights or nudges a listener's emotions into a pathway where they can be easily chaperoned around or through trigger topics.
Clue: he uses several 'tricks' (as he calls them) to allow listeners entry into a consciousness from which incumbent emotions and behaviours disengage subconscious bias, and can be isolated (or quarantined, if you will).
Momentarily dis-indoctrinated, the listener has been nudged into a consciousness unencumbered by bias etc, from where an oppositional axiom can spontaneously form.
Nudge: this is where the magic happens. I'm going to guess that anywhere a successful oppositional axiom can form is a place from where positively-responding emotions are able to generate.
Is this a formula to catalyze one's earth shattering, by chaperoning a listener into a place of creation where they create their own heuristic pathways out of newly self-discovered behavioural insights?
That's earth shattering!
I have done most necessary preparations and commenced the first step: taking my own advice. Herewithal commences a patchwork chronology - scribing mine own struggles - stories of surviving this far through the plandemic - reason being for acknowledgment of just how fucking insane our last three years were.
Great article Dom. Stay strong mate. We'll get through this together.