Later that morning, after I sent the message, I was sitting in my room on my bed with my laptop open. Suddenly, out of the blue, I was hit with an immense wave of energy.
The energy drove me out of my seat. As I was getting up, I saw that Chance had responded to my message.
What he wrote was, “FUN.”
The energy wave I felt caused me to jump up and scream while walking across the room. It was a scream, but it wasn't at the top of my lungs like when I was going through Dark Night of the Soul. This was an excited scream, a happy scream. It wasn't my response to seeing Chance's response to my message, but rather, the energy I was receiving, psychically, from Chance. It was intense.
As I was walking, I heard Brandon say to me, “...because that's a game you play to see if someone you like likes you back!” I didn't know this, because I was isolated and sheltered from online social things like this. When you like someone, you send them a message that says, “I'm sweaty.” And if they say “fun,” that means they like you. This was a perfectly normal, everyday thing for someone to do.
I had to quickly sit myself back down from being driven out of my seat to continue the conversation.
Rachel: Lasagna pan.
Chance: Hubble telescope.
Rachel: Look up Brandon Williams.
Chance: Okay. Does he like lasagna?
Rachel: Yes he does.
Chance: Does he work on the Hubble telescope?
At this, I paused. “I don't know,” I wrote in response. Then I went offline.
Wow, that had gone well! Better than I had hoped! But I knew something. That wasn't the real test. Right there, with the I'm sweaty message, that wasn't the real test. It did show something, though. Chance liked me. The real test was if he still liked me after he saw all the embarrassing footage of me in my house, which Brandon would for sure show him.
I remembered something else about the guy Chance was friends with, Adam, the guy with the chromosome song. There was a day back in junior high, when it was the end of the year and we were all signing yearbooks in the gym. Todd and I exchanged yearbooks. Except, neither of us could sign each other's because neither of us had a pen. Todd forgot that we had exchanged yearbooks, and went off to get more people to sign. He gave it to Adam. I came after him, and took my yearbook back. When I looked at my yearbook, I saw that Adam had written, “You are a boy.”
But this was my yearbook. I imagined that these words were somehow prophetic. This happened on purpose. I was like a boy in a girl's body. I mean, not sexuality wise, but mentally. That's why I did things to make fun of girls, like make a video outside the school with my sister and Matthew, pretending to be a teenage girl afraid of sex.
A while ago, my cover photo was a picture of a girl, that said, “She may look clean, BUT.. AIDS... Gonorrhea... Syphillis...”
I wanted another picture like that, that made fun of girls, as my cover photo. I could do another STD one. But, I didn't want people to think that I was trying to hint that I had an STD, because I didn't. I googled, “pictures that make fun of girls.” I searched for images. There was one particular one I just looked at, and immediately made my cover photo without even really reading it or thinking about it. I didn't actually read it and comprehend what it said until I already had it as my cover photo. When I did so, I burst out laughing. It read: “Girls with fake hair, fake eyelashes, fake nails, and fake purses wonder why they can't find a real man.” The reason it was funny was because it was like I was making fun of my sister, who had fake all those things.
Brandon laughed at me. “Yeah, Rachel! You didn't realize that?” he was laughing at me because I made that my cover photo before even realizing why I was doing it.
I looked down at the chat window where I had been talking to Chance. I saw the green dot, meaning he was online. For some reason this bothered me that he was online.
“Chance.” Brandon said to him. “Go offline for a bit. Rachel sees you online and that bothers her.”
Immediately after that thought went through my head, the green dot disappeared. Chance had gone offline, as if in response to what I had heard in my head.
I laughed. And joked with Brandon in my head, “I have this problem where I think the whole world revolves around me!” Like I expected that Chance would stop going online himself and be completely immersed in this second coming/bugged house/Rachel Zuhl world.
It was morning, and it was time to go to the gym. I hadn't been going as frequently, now that so much was going on inside my head, but my mom asked me if I wanted to go to tai chi with her. I sat, and asked Brandon if I should go, inside my head.
I didn't receive an audible response, but what I did find was that I started involuntarily running after my mom out the door. So the answer must have been yes.
At the gym, I didn't go into tai chi. I wandered into the weight area and started doing bicep curls. I was worried that weight training would somehow sap my spiritual energy, and make me less psychic. I had never heard anywhere that this was true but now that I was here I was wondering if there were little things about psychic abilities no one told you. Like, no one had told me that tai chi made you psychic. Boy, that was a great surprise.
Speaking of tai chi...
I looked into the room where classes were held and saw that they had finished with the warm up exercises and were on to the actual routine. Suddenly, involuntarily, I ran in there and started doing it with them.
However, I wasn't actually doing it correctly. Sure, I was making all the moves right. But I wasn't feeling the energy. I wasn't feeling the chi. And that's what made a difference in your spiritual energy and psychic abilities. I was going through the motions, but I wasn't really feeling it.
I had two appointments today, one with my naturopath and one with my psychiatrist. Beforehand, my mom and I ate lunch at Subway. I walked around outside before we ate, and felt the beauty of my spiritual/mental state. It was truly glorious, the way I felt. I listened to the song Annie You Save Me. I had been listening to it on repeat constantly for the past week.
There were lots of things that I called soul grooves. A soul groove was a term I made up to describe a conscious experience. It is the feeling of a drop of water hitting an ocean, and the sound of it echoing, a sound that gets slower and slower at such a pace that it rocks your soul. I used to have a lot of these when I was younger, and now I was experiencing it a lot again. Like I was experiencing the pureness of Christ consciousness.
In this state, I could feel emotions in terms of vibrations. When I heard negative comments in my mind directed at me, I could feel the vibrations behind these comments. They had an unharmonious energy that was painful. Positive comments directed at me were a glorious vibration that felt like beautiful music.
I remembered back to a few months ago, when I had had more delusions. I remembered the horrible delusion I had had about Brandon's little sister. Everything happens for a reason. I could do no wrong. No, what I had thought about Brandon's little sister wasn't actually true. But what I imagined was, Brandon's little sister had found out that a girl had delusions about him, and she used to make fun of me for it. She had made fun of me for my weakness, the topic for me that was sensitive. So in response, I made fun of her about something that was a sensitive topic for her. She had been extremely insecure about how heavy she had looked at this particular time.
Normally, I would be worried about what Brandon would think about me having such a horrible delusion about his little sister, and her weight. I would have been worried that he would be pissed at me. But hey, delusions are delusions. They just happen. Obviously Brandon wasn't mad at me, or he would have said something.
Back inside Subway, I stood in line and ordered my sandwich. When we got to the cashier and they asked me if I wanted a drink, I ordered coffee. They didn't serve coffee in the afternoon. I sighed, and was very frustrated about this. Reluctantly I ordered a diet coke. I was worried that the aspartame wasn't good for me.
Afterwards, we went to the naturopath, where they hooked up the electrodes to my head and did some more neurofeedback. Neurofeedback is meant to correct brain waves. You will sometimes feel a difference, but not always. This time, I felt an enormous difference. I felt the part of my brain, of my conscious thought processes, that obsessively think about things like my ability to give head, straighten up and mature and let go of such stupid thoughts. It was like it was the brain damage that was causing me to think stupid thoughts all the time. Now, it was corrected and my thoughts were on a higher vibration.
“Do you have any questions?” the naturopath asked me.
YES. Something spoke up inside my brain. This was not Brandon, this came from somewhere else.
“Well?”
I focused and tried to figure out what it wanted me to ask. My thoughts flashed back to Subway. “Diet coke. Is it bad for you?”
“Yes. Aspartame is very bad for you.” Then he started going on about aspartame.
Before we left, I was pacing energetically through the halls while I waited for my mom to finish buying supplements. A woman passed me in the hall, she looked at me and I felt negative energy from her directed at me.
I ran back the other way towards the direction she had gone in. I stood outside the door, narrowed my eyes and peered in at her, waiting for her to see me. The search for the ugly soul. Was she the ugly soul? I knew she wasn't, that was Nick, but it was a symbolic action. She turned around and saw me looking at her, but just looked back in the other direction and didn't give me a funny look or anything, like she didn't think it was weird that I was looking at her like this.
Next we had to go to my psychiatrist. The reason I was excited about this was because my psychiatrist could read auras. He would look at my aura, and see the harmonious state I was in, and surely he would realize something wonderful was going on!
I paced all around the psychiatrist's office while we were waiting. There was a problem. I was starting to lose my harmonious, good mood. HAPPY ENERGY PEOPLE! People were not sending me good energy! I wondered if this was on purpose. Like, now that everyone knew so much about me, they hated me, even though I was the second coming of Christ. Happy energy people. Happy energy people! I knew that my personal energy state was linked to the energy that other people were sending me.
I was called into see my psychiatrist, and sat down.
“Read my aura.” And I sat there and relaxed, feeling broken, tired, used up.
“Oh, man. Your aura... it's gray and really scattered.”
Don't lose your cool. Work with this. “So what are we going to do?”
“The decreased dose of Invega isn't working... your mom says you've been manic.”
“So, do we want more drugs, or less drugs? We could increase the Invega again... Or hey, I know! I could go off Adderall!” Which was a crazy, crazy thing for me to suggest.
“Well, sure, if that's what you want... We'll keep the other meds the same and no more Adderall!”
“Yes!” Involuntarily, I jumped up and high-fived the doctor. Afterwards, Brandon laughed about this.
I was excited about this move. A move that I would never usually be excited about. I told my mom, and she was disappointed. Disappointed that we hadn't increased my Invega again.
That's how my mom was. She wanted to keep me drugged, drugged, drugged.
I came home that night, back to the bugged house like always. I could feel people gathered behind the screens. New people would find out that Brandon bugged my house, and be shocked. Like shit, Brandon sees me naked. Brandon would say, “Yes! We saw her in her unmentionables!” I laughed at this. Brandon was making a reference to the time I came back to Innercept from a home visit, and my mother had bought me new underwear, and they always search your bag. I told the staff member who searched my bag to be careful, I got some new 'unmentionables.' The thing was, I hadn't called my underwear this since I had been home in Oregon, especially not since Brandon had bugged the house, in fact the thought hadn't even occurred to me. Which meant that Brandon could go back through and probe my memories with his mind, and certain things stuck out. Brandon knew almost everything there was to know about me, potentially. He could know, if he probed long enough. However, he did not know everything. He did not have the time to examine every single thought that had ever occurred to me.
I was sitting on my bed like always, when suddenly I felt an outpouring of energy come from somewhere, presumably the people who were watching me through hidden cameras. They were all using their minds to put thoughts into my mind. The thoughts I received were in reference to Crystal. They said: “Cute little itty bitty sweet young soul! Sweet young soul! Sweet young soul! Sweet young soul!” That last line kept repeating, until it caught on in my own mind.
At first I was confused why these thoughts started coming into my head. They were obviously not my own, rather someone trying to influence my thoughts. The whole “young soul” was a reference to something. A while ago, years and years ago, when I thought about people in terms of how old their souls were, I had thought that Crystal must have been a young soul. So this was a reference to that. But the connotation was kind of like, “Why would you be so hard on such a little baby soul? Forgive her, she's just a baby! You wouldn't be so hard on a baby!”
The thing that confused me was that, now that I was Christian, I no longer believed in past lives or soul age. So I was confused why I was suddenly being told that Crystal was a sweet young soul.
However, that was beside the point. I still had the problem where I would think on repeat. All this time, through everything that I had gone through, ever since I had done Weird Zombie Girl, the whole Weird Zombie Girl thing played in the back of my mind constantly. “Yeah, I smirked at you. YOU WERE LOOKING AT ME FUNNY!” And I screamed the last part in my head at her. Over and over and over again.
But this whole “sweet young soul” thing I was hearing, I began to realize, was to replace this thought process. And it repeated in my head until I started saying it myself. So now I was walking around the house, whispering to myself: “She's a very sweet young soul. Very sweet young soul. She's a very sweet young soul!” And in my mind, and my being, something started to quiet down. With the old, nasty thought process, I was losing energy. It was using up my energy, thinking nasty thoughts all the time about Crystal. I was using my energy to send nastiness to Crystal. With this new, loving thought process, that stopped happening. And I immediately began to feel immensely better. With my old thought process, not only had it been potentially causing harm to Crystal, but it had been draining on me too. My energy now felt fuller, more complete, grander, healed.
I wasn't sure if the purpose of this was for my sake or Crystal's sake, or for both of our sake.
Then, a whole bunch of stuff started to come to me.
Crystal never hated me. I remembered how ridiculous Crystal sounded when she had written on my facebook wall, telling me about how she loathed me. The reason she sounded so ridiculous was because she wasn't being truthful. She had been shocked that I had taken her seriously when she sounded so ridiculous. It wasn't Crystal who had misread what I meant, It had been me, misreading what she meant.
Someone had taken a picture of me when I was passed out naked, and Crystal had seen it. I imagined that there was something distinctive and attractive about my naked body and my bone structure, something I was unaware of. I had no idea what it was. But Crystal, who I knew was bisexual, had seen it and she actually had a crush on me.
Brandon said to me, “That's why you know Weird Zombie Girl swings both ways!” One of my friends was asking me questions about Weird Zombie Girl on one of my facebook pages, and I had told her that she swings both ways. In real life, I had learned that Crystal swinged both ways when I was doing internet stalking, and I had found profiles on some website for both Brandon and Crystal. They had been looking for another couple to hook up with. There, Crystal had described herself as being bisexual. On facebook she said she was straight.
Sometimes, when you like someone, you act like you don't like them, but you are really weird about it. All the other girls on the fifth floor hated me. So when Crystal wrote on my facebook wall, she was just echoing the opinion of the other girls. She had wanted to add me, but didn't want to be ostracized by the other girls on the fifth floor for having me as a friend.
I remembered things that I had heard that Crystal had said.
“Oh my God, I can't believe she added me!”
“How can you NOT hate her?”
Oh right, I hate her! How can you NOT hate her?
All the other girls on the fifth floor had been making fun of me. They made fun of me and my crummy dye job, not knowing that it was actually what guys prefer.
The term “sweet young soul” was reminiscent of “sweet young thing.” Sweet young thing was a reference to a young attractive girl, and had sexual connotations to it. Therefore, “sweet young soul” had sexual connotations to it also. Crystal had sexual feelings toward me, according to what I was imagining, so it was as if this was also commenting on her as a sexual being.
It actually hadn't been Crystal who put puke in front of my door. I could do no wrong. No, even I could do wrong. And out of everything, this is the one place where I had been wrong, despite being so sure of myself. Crystal had not put the puke in front of my door. It was the other girls on the fifth floor. Crystal had been really bummed that in retaliation for that, I had stolen her sign, which she had worked so hard on.
I began referring to Crystal as the “fifth floor Jesus,” because she took the rap for what the other girls on her floor had done. I imagined myself surrounded by a crowd of people, describing Crystal. “She's the fifth floor Jesus, and a very sweet young soul!”
When Brandon and Crystal first met, the thing they had originally bonded over was the fact that they both had a crush on me. That was one of the reasons Brandon bugged my house, because I had basically given him permission to do anything, and this is what he did.
However, back when they found out I had misconstrued ideas, for a while they didn't like me anymore and were laughing at me. Crystal had been laughing at me because of my strange belief in the supernatural, in things like negative energy clearings. However, recently, I had psychically attacked Crystal, without meaning to, with my own negative thoughts. As a result, Crystal had had to get a negative energy clearing herself. Which was why they did the “sweet young soul” thing to get me to stop sending all that negative energy to Crystal. Give it a rest! “Crystal wants you to add her as a friend,” Brandon said. Crystal was there right now, with everyone, whoever happened to be there, watching me on camera.
So I went over to her page and sent her a friend request.
I was mad that she didn't accept right away. I thought maybe she wasn't at her computer right now. But as the days wore on, she still didn't accept, and I wondered if I was receiving all this psychic stuff correctly.
Maybe, that wasn't really what was going on. Maybe she wasn't there, maybe she didn't know anything about this. Maybe what was really going on was that I had been psychically attacking her, and she might remember that the day whatever symptoms she may have been experiencing lifted was the same day I sent her another friend request on Facebook.
However, this was all just speculation. At any rate, it was great to feel my own spiritual energy lift.
Previously, Brandon had made me shake my butt at random places around the house, which indicated that there was a camera there. However, it hadn't happened while I was near the shower.
“I did put a camera in Rachel's shower.” Brandon told Chance. “But I didn't want her to know.”
Yeah, I heard that. But it was okay.
“Rachel, why don't you take a shower?” There was something weird about my body. I got a towel, took off my clothes, and got in the shower. I sat down on the floor, turned the heat up high and focused it on me. I smiled and laughed. People were watching me. I was keenly aware of this, that I was on display, and all I could do was laugh, paralyzed, too self-conscious to move. But I continued my shower anyway. I washed my hair, then got out of the shower.
“Rachel, why don't you put on some makeup, to show people how you put on makeup.” I didn't want people to know my makeup secrets. But when Brandon told me to do something, there was something almost involuntary that made me do it.
I went downstairs, where I was still on camera. My dad was watching TV in the family room. I went in there. And then I started going off about medication. The evil in my life that was the pills my parents forced me to take. I had realized that it had been the Depakote that had led to my high anxiety, the feelings of humiliation all the time. Now that I was off Depakote, I was much more relaxed. A drug I had taken previously, which I had started very shortly after I had originally been diagnosed, had that same side effect. It was during the late summer of 2006 when I had started feeling embarrassed all the time. I had taken Lamictal for awhile, and then been switched to Depakote. Now that I was off both of them, I didn't have that side effect anymore. I was angry that I had spent so long needlessly feeling uncomfortable and stressing out about things that didn't matter. It had probably taken years off my life.
My dad responded that he was skeptical of my assessment of the side effects of these meds. Lamictal and Depakote don't have any of the same side effects.
I responded that they are in the same class of drugs, they are used to treat the same condition, it is quite possible that they have some of the same side effects, and that is what I noticed.
My dad looked it up, pointed out that none of the top five side effects of Lamictal were the same as the top side effects of Depakote, and vice versa.
“The medications each have tons of potential side effects. There are side effects that aren't listed in the pamphlets.”
To which my dad replied, “All of a medication's potential side effects are listed in the pamphlets.”
We argued for a long time, and my dad got sick of arguing. So I went upstairs.
Chance and Brandon were watching me. Chance said something to Brandon, I couldn't hear what it was.
“Rachel. Chance has a question. Were you masturbating in 8th grade, before you went on Adderall?” Brandon communicated to me.
“Hmm. Well, no I wasn't. I didn't masturbate at all towards the end of 8th grade.”
“Well yeah! You had to go on Adderall because you weren't touching yourself at night!”
HUH?!?
So, like always, I began to realize what was going on. When Brandon videotaped me, he could see me sleep. It had happened a couple times where I wake up touching myself. Not like masturbating, but scratching myself down there, or touching my boob. I imagined that this was only the tip of the iceberg, I did this all the time. Brandon had it on camera. It was a side effect of the Adderall.
Sure, parents and doctors give their kids Adderall, thinking it is harmless. But is it? Is it really? What would they do if they knew that an unlisted, unreported side effect was that it makes you touch yourself at night?
I imagined that there was this girl. Her parents had her on a whole bunch of medications, thinking they were for the better, thinking they were harmless. There was this video of this girl, and how she sleeps at night, due to the medications (somehow everyone was certain that this was due to the medications). This was an ugly, ugly, ugly video. And this video had to go on YouTube, to reveal this ugliness to the world.
This girl was me, of course. But the way it was in my head, it wasn't clear that this was me. Because it was planned a long time ago, before I even existed. I was living out this plan.
I imagined the girl holding the videotape, and saying to her dad: “So, you don't think there are any unlisted side effects of the medications?”
“That's why we sent you bad energy at the doctor's office. So you would be taken off Adderall! You did exactly what we were hoping you would do,” Brandon told me.
I was angry. I was steaming pissed. Not because of the video, or the house bugging, or any of that. I was pissed at my dad. And the fact that he told me, that he had the nerve to believe himself, that there were not any unlisted side effects of medications. That every possible side effect anyone could ever experience from a medication would be listed in the brochure.
I got so pissed that I woke up my mom and screamed at her. It was the middle of the night now, and she was sound asleep, and I just waltzed straight into her room, turned on her light and yelled at her about what my dad had said. First, I considered doing that to my dad. But I knew he had work the next day, which was why I left him alone.
My mom was mad, and in my mind, Brandon told me to stop. Go back to your room.
I sighed and apologized and left my mom to try and go back to sleep.
“Rachel, that was stupid. Your mom was having a really nice dream. You know she has trouble getting to sleep.”
“You're right, I'm sorry.”
“We forgive you, Jesus!” That came in loud and clear, much clearer than most things that Brandon told me. I laughed and gave a big thumbs up, to indicate how clearly that had come through.
That was a separate thing we were trying to sort out. Which thoughts I received belonged to me, and which belonged to Brandon. Because I had this problem where I would attribute thoughts to coming from Brandon when they really came from myself.
There was a lot of focus on me at this present moment. I had a problem: I had no privacy, and I had to fart.
“You guys, give me some space, I have to fart.”
Then I let out this really tiny fart.
“That was dainty.”
“Wait. I just heard 'that was dainty.' Was that you, or was that me?”
“That was you!” I was embarrassed, than Brandon laughed. “That was funny!”
My sister came over. She came over to my parent's house once a week, for dinner.
As we talked in my bedroom, I told her one thought that had crossed my mind. We had given my parents funny names, Beev and Feether Meeke. We didn't call them mom and dad anymore, we hadn't for a long time. The reason we gave them funny names was because we lost respect for them.
“Of course that was the reason. I knew that was the reason.” my sister replied.
So we talked about it, and decided to sit down with my parents and have a talk with them, outlining every mistake they had made in their parenting. I took notes so we could remember what to talk about.
“Now, Rachel and her sister are going to give her parents parenting lessons. This should be good,” Brandon said.
“The shoving of the Ritalin down our throats, the crappy food, letting Ted stay here, Innercept, anything else?”
We thought on this.
“Tickling. I had nightmares about tickling!”
Brandon whispered in my ear: “Really Rachel? Nightmares?”
“Yes!” I turned my head away so Kristen couldn't see me mouth “yes.”
We came up with a bunch of other things, and went downstairs and ate dinner. Kristen almost didn't want to do it.
“It's just going to start an argument.”
“Let's do it.” This was going to be a big event for me in front of the cameras. We went into the family room.
We went over all the things we had listed. It of course, did start an argument.
I talked about the time when we were at the old house and Feether Meeke was tickling me. I was screaming in pain as part of his watch caught on the skin of my arm and ripped it off, leaving a huge, bloody gash. I got up and acted this out, this tickling, the gash, the blood, oh God the blood! I jumped around screaming and animated with my hands the blood bursting from the wound. I got exceptionally animated. I laughed afterwards, than heard Brandon and Chance laughing at this, took a step back from my family and laughed really hard with them.
Whenever I heard Brandon and Chance laughing I would do this. Take a step back, and laugh extra, extra hard.
“Rachel, that was pretty interesting. Do that again,” my mom said.
So I acted out the tickling and gaping wound again.
“Now, do your impression of the guy from Innercept who would talk with the aliens.”
I held up both hands, curled the middle three fingers in while jerking around my thumbs and pinky, then rapidly blinked both my eyes, but not at the same time. There was a guy at Innercept who used to do this. He would do this randomly and out of the blue, and the only explanation I ever got for it was that he was communing with aliens. I realized that the rapid eye movements was kind of like Tweek on South Park. Everything fit together in some sort of way.
All this acting made me feel like I was on stage, even though I was just in my own home. I knew that when I was taking theatre class in Idaho, I had never been a very good actor. Now I was in my own home, and I was comfortable, and I could let loose.
“Okay, enough of that,” my sister said. “What about the time I was leaving with a guy, who was honestly just a friend, and Feether Meeke runs out, and yells in front of him 'Kristen, how many guys are you going to sleep with?'”
“I'm sure I never said that. Kristen's doesn't remember it correctly,” my dad said.
I used my mind to probe his. “You're the one who doesn't remember it correctly. You don't even remember this incident.”
“No, but I know I wouldn't have said that.”
Later, when I asked my dad about this, he said he would have said something, “to make her seem more attractive.”
I thought about how my parents treat my sister like she's a slut, and me like I'm this little angel kid who would never do that kind of thing.
There was a lot of heated arguing, a lot of theatrical acting on my part. My mom tried to tell us we were just being bullies. We were just trying to beat them up for not being perfect.
“No. I'm trying to tell you that you guys aren't good at parenting, and have no business still being parents. You're problem is that you are addicted to parenting! Eighteen years of parenting me wasn't enough, you had to get a guardianship over me! You should go to Parenting Anonymous! Because right now, I'm paying for your mistakes!”
There it was again. That theme. The kids paying for the parents' mistakes.
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