I lived with PTSD for 40 years, after molestation by a Catholic priest at age five. Read my story as I write it here through 2015.

This is a True Story

**See the R-Rated Version of This Story at CofA16**
Read ongoing coverage of pedophile priest crisis at CofA12
My story is my only asset. Thanks for sending high fives ($5s) through the PayPal Buy Now button on the left to support this work.

Monday, November 10, 2014

I am sick, will continue this blog when I feel better.

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Orwell and Me 3

Orwell was isolated bk of his illness, so am I. He had TB and was infectious so kept himself at home. I have PTSD  and the pain has me crippled so I'm always at home. Orwell was passionate about politics and the time he was in Jura writing 1984 he "pulled on his entire life experience." One thing that got him writing fiction not journalism was the death of his wife. My Fiction writing was kicked off by the friction between me and Lizzie, for which I am grateful now. There's more. He had a tendency to put himself in the middle of things to experience them and write about them, which I too have done all my life. This is exciting. I'm not writing 1984, I'm not writing about the future, but I really dig the parallels, maybe I should turn my rants about the Saudis running Fox News into something. . . not sci fi, but Orwell also was not writing sci fi at all. . . hoping for a couple days off soon... loving this documentary about orwell's lifehttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EuVYvkdTYWc


Posted on Facebook

Orwell and Me 2

OMG, I just realized how similar my job is to the lead character in the book 1984. I have to reread it, but how weird. I take what is on video and transcribe it to a word doc that producers make into Reality TV. His job was looking at news stories and then . . . almost transcribing them, just leaving stuff out, but I mean. . . the parallels between me and George Orwell and my situation and All Of It is ... a nother whole story to write.
LikeLike ·  · 
  • Kay Ebeling Weirder yet. The videos I transcribe, the producers tell the star what to say and the star repeats it back. I transcribe it with a time code, so the producers know where on the video is the line they want to use, pretending it's the star saying it, but it's really, The Producers. . .
    2 mins · Like
  • Kay Ebeling They put the words into the reality TV star's mouth, I transcribe it with a time code, they then produce the show where people think it's the star talking, but it's really, the producers.
    2 mins · Like
  • Kay Ebeling It's Almost The Same Thing the guy is doing in 1984!!!!
    1 min · Like
  • Kay Ebeling The shows are then on screens that are ubiquitous, permeating america's living rooms and bedrooms, you almost cannot get away from them.

Orwell and Me 1

amazing parallels between his life and mine, which I find encouraging. He was despised bk he was so critical, he quit jobs outraged at injustices others put up with, he was awkward and unhealthy, and he ended up writing 1984. I could now be in phase of his life where he worked in a bookstore and being around books all the time made him despise books, as, well, I used to like television. . . Onward. I am currently living in my own Jura. Orwell wrote 1984 in Jura, Scotland I am in Lancaster, California writing for next 2 years with a sign on my door that says "Orwell's Scottish Cabin" Inspiration:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EuVYvkdTYWc
Orvel ka┼że: Ljubav je zlomisao.....
YOUTUBE.COM
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Tuesday, October 21, 2014

After the second time I assaulted Cardinal Mahony on the street, a judge had me live in a shelter for wayward women instead of a prison sentence. At that East Hollywood kitchen table, I had the moment of recognition: I have a perfect excuse to kill somebody. Fiction coming soon at CofA Fiction http://cofafiction.blogspot.com/ 

Thursday, October 2, 2014

What happened in 1994 is so significant. It is to the date the time this pain came in that is still crippling me today.  It is the reason I was diagnosed with PTSD in '95.  I was age 45 and found out that indeed that event I always remembered, a shadowy guy finger banging me age five in the woods, really did happen. My life went in a totally new direction. In conversation with my sister I found out April 1994 that Father Horne diddled her too. When Patricia got to be about nine, she was too old for his tastes, so he dropped her for me.  The realization that I had lived my whole life with sexual compulsions that destroyed everything, every job, every relationship, and the compulsions were not caused by me being an incorrigible whore but probably by this thing a Catholic priest did to me when I was five years old, and now my sister was confirming it really did happen-

That experience, that date, April 1994 is so significant.  

What do I have to do now to make the pain stop? 

Monday, September 15, 2014

I am at work now on "Chapter 3" of book that is really a blog which 
started here Feb 2014 in a post that began with this phone conversation:

"Father Horne molested me 'til I was about ten. Hmm. Then he must have dropped me for you.” My sister Patricia is six years older than me and 40 years after the abuse we are on the phone confirming it really happened.  “I got too old for him, so he dumped me for you,” she said, then her voice became a guttural whisper that penetrated my ear, “No wonder I've been so hostile to you your whole life.  You took away my first lover.”

Story continued April 2014 here: 

Ch2: The Thud and a Nipple Dress


Where:

In a loud voice on the phone I said to my sister, “Finally an explanation.  It was because Father Horne molested us at such an early age that we were both sexual predators our whole lives!And there was my daughter Lizzie age six in the doorway overhearing everything. 

* Onward * 

Friday, September 12, 2014


While I was in the Jacuzzi last night, the two felonies that have defined my life since the 1990s suddenly FUSED and became one story, not two to be written separately. I realized, wow, how much more intriguing to add the murder and embezzlement on top of the pedophile priest crimes, as it is, after all, the story of a family, isn't it. . .
Posted yesterday on Facebook, click my name to connect

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

TRIGGERS they are everywhere, I'm watching news about the border crisis and who is the talking head but a spokesman from the conference of Catholic bishops. Now that should not bother me, but it does. Within seconds I'm outside the door shaking, moaning, a swirl in my head of, How can they still, after all this- what? Next thought is I want to move. I see myself like Hannibal Lecter at the end of the film, where he's gotten away and is strolling on some tropical island road. My head swirls with How Can They Ask the Church to comment when it has no credibility anymore at all. Interesting though that the bishops had no priest to send on TV for them, it was a layman, a spokesman. So now it's official, the Catholic Church is just a corporation with a left-leaning humanitarian slant. And thank God for Sour Diesel, which was on hand to keep the trigger from turning into a nightmare, will look for news on this topic in a different venue.

Posted just now on Facebook, click my name to connect


Kay Ebeling

Monday, June 23, 2014

Short

Keep Watching Here for More
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Some of the screwiest people in the world are pedophile priest victims. 

I have to qualify that as there are also many survivors of priest molestation who function perfectly well, some even extremely well, compulsively well, in life.

But the ones who are screwed up are screwed up in really original and unique ways. 

Unique.

They are showing up in this story as I write it. 

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Coming Soon

Works in Progress

At CofA 16 Rated R " The Polaroid Insight"

At CofA Fiction "Ariana and Me"  which will also be rated R. 

And at CofA12-15 ongoing coverage of the pedophile priest issue

And here at CofA 15 "Me and Barbara Payton"

Stay tuned.  
Should be finished 
writing at least two of them soon
But it is summer, when things do slow down so... 
-ke

Monday, June 16, 2014

Triggering like crazy lately

When I can’t find my keys, that really sets it off.  

I’d love to learn someday if other people with PTSD have this same experience. 

If I can’t find my keys, it's okay for maybe thirty seconds.  But if after that I still can’t find my keys, I start having a physical reaction: increased heart beat, shortness of breath, panic, and THEN body pain.  Every step I take from one room to the other while I'm looking for my keys sends pain shooting from my feet all the way up my body.  So the longer I look the worse the pain is, to the point I'm crawling sometimes, crawling and panting and pulling myself around the room, throwing stuff on the floor, breaking things, sweeping clutter off a tabletop in one swoop, all the stuff crashing to the floor, then I'm crawling to the next table to do it again.  It can get pretty bad if I can’t find my keys, still it all comes to a stop and everything returns to normal, as soon as I find the keys. 

Triggers.  Living with PTSD.

And panic.  Some people call them panic attacks, I don't know how to describe how awful this is when I'm in the middle of it.  An actress would have to have exceptional skills to portray it.  Maybe I could describe one of these search-induced panics with a looooong paragraph someday, if when I'm in the middle of one I can maintain enough presence of mind to write it down and document it. 

For a long time I thought there was some connection between the pedophile priest rape and this panic when I lose things.  Like maybe there was an incident connected to the molestation that involved not being able to find something.  Or maybe the panic at losing keys is just a general malaise about my entire lost life, about all the things my entire family lost as a result of the pedophile priest crimes in our lives.

But it also could be a characteristic of PTSD in general, and maybe war veterans, other crime victims, even accident trauma survivors experience the same thing, I don't know.

It seems to involve a need to keep everything in its place, a need to know that if I need the keys they will be right there in the little holder on the table.  If the keys aren't there, something happens to me- physiologically, a sense of oh no, now things are out of place. 

Oh no things are not where they should be.  

Oh no I've lost control and now the chaos can start up again.

So if I have to keep looking for the keys, the simple act of rifling through clutter and looking under papers turns into a major emotional event.  My daughter used to hate it when this happened, and it may be the reason she tells people her mother is crazy to this day, when I'm not crazy, I'm really a very sane person.  

I just have PTSD, so I have these episodes. 

And misplaced keys are a trigger, mysteriously so, because the reaction I have to misplaced keys is way out of balance with the real difficulty of not finding ones keys. 

I mean, what difference does it make if I can’t find my keys, except I may have to leave the door unlocked for a few minutes. Hmm. I mean, I hardly ever go anywhere. 

It's true.  I've arranged my life so I don't leave my apartment complex.  I have almost all my groceries and supplies delivered and once a week I hobble three blocks up the street to the Thursday farmers market. When I lived in Chicago the winter of 2012-13, I did not go outside my apartment building from November through April, about five months, except to go down the hall and throw out trash, or go get mail, and I'd do that in the middle of the night when no one was around. 

I know this is a mania in development, but to be honest, the way the world is, agoraphobia makes sense these days.

*****
I Could Get Away With Murder

I feel like, hey, considering everything I've been through, a little quirkiness in my old age is okay. 

But then I also wonder if a little quirkiness is all it is. 

Because just now, after yet another day of triggers and panic attacks fed by rage that I can’t find a doctor who understands what I'm going through so I have no medical attention happening at all right now, no doctor or nurse to call, nothing, no prescription for Valium to refill and make it all easier, so added to the rage and whatever that thing is I experience from triggers is this frustration that I can’t find medical help when I obviously need it so bad.  

Walking back in my door just now, I thought, after everything I've been through, I could probably commit one hellacious crime and get away with it, claim insanity, say I was triggered by my rage, an out of control reaction to how totally unfair it all has been, and it just got to me. 

I could get away with, what, see that's the problem, I can’t think of any crime I want to commit.  I'm not violent, so as much as it might seem like fun to, oh, let’s say, kidnap a priest and tie him to a chair while I stuck his skin with prickly things, it might make a good scene for Holly Hunter on a cable series, but it's not me.  I’d feel sorry for the guy.  I’d end up helping him out. 

But it's still an idea.  I could commit some crime and if I got caught, considering all the stuff I've been through that has never been justifiably resolved, I could probably get away with- with- whatever. 

I just can’t think of what crime to commit, but it's food for thought. 

-by Kay Ebeling
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Thursday, May 29, 2014

I feel really good. Post I just put up at CofA12 is almost right on, enough for me to have a very satisfied and complete feeling. ALSO been away from my own story long enough, so tomorrow I go back to diving in files and writing Faster.  
(Posted just now on Facebook, click my name to connect) 

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Effect on Victims, from Franciscan Board of Inquiry, affects me 20 years later

If only they’d known this in 1955.

To the flight controllers at NASA in the eighties who probably wrote about me on the men’s room walls, like they did in the Daily Texan newsroom in Austin in the seventies, and to all the women who gunned for me after what I did with their husbands, I'm sorry. 

When I found “Effect on Victims” in the Franciscans of Santa Barbara Board of Inquiry Report from 1993, it had a big effect on me. I came across it while I was lost in Appalachia in 2011 reading back over files from years of doing CofA Blog.  Rereading it contributed to the total process of me finally calming down. 

The quote below regards victims who went in front of the Board to describe the impact rapes by Franciscans had on their lives:

“It is important to keep in mind that children develop a sense and understanding of sexuality from authority figures, and that boys came to the seminary at age 13 or 14 years, when they were uniformly young and impressionable.”

For some the sexual abuse “was immediate profound trauma, indelibly imprinted in their consciousness.  For others, it was not until later in life that memories returned, sparked by an upsetting occurrence that triggered traumatic flashbacks.  Although these episodes were painful, they often provided relief through a new found understanding of the difficulties and struggles in their lives.”

Yep, that about describes it. 

For some reason reading those words empower me a bit, because it stands to reason that sex abuse has an even more profound effect when it happens at age five or so, as it did to me, so I have to stop hating myself for what it made of me.

I hope some of the people who knew me in the seventies and eighties and grew to hate me for having sex with their husbands, brothers, bosses, etcetera, will read the quote, and maybe understand. 

I went through life thinking I’d been touched by an Angel in a very private place, so to speak, and since it happened at such an early age, the effect was indeed at a DNA level.  I felt I had a purpose in life, to share that early sexual experience with everyone I encountered. 

So to all those people in Texas and all the rest, I'm sorry. 

I'm sorry.

I had impulses I could not control.  Hopefully this journalism that I am doing about pedophile priests and how their sex crimes affected their victims will reach some of my own victims and help them think less bad of me. 

Because I left a trail of victims behind. 

I was a sexual predator from age six on, it's just after age six, I didn't know how to do it, so instead got very fat, obese, size 16 at age eight.  As soon as I reached 13 or so - puberty - I slimmed down, and the sexual compulsion kicked in.  Soon I was bouncing on men’s laps just like when I was six years old.  I have 40 years of My Life as a Slut left in my head to live with as a result.  I think of it as a punishment.

( Me in 2014:  I felt like it was a punishment back in 2011 when I wrote this. Now I think of it as a hell of a story to write. )

For me it was like the gonging of a huge church tower bell had been ringing and ringing in the background all my life.

(Wow, I keep finding that reference to a gong in a bell tower in these journals.)

When I realized Father Horne had set the whole mania in motion with his diddling fingers, it stopped, the gonging of the bell stopped.

And I became a completely different person.  Today I'm more like Jane Wyatt than Jane Mansfield, if only I could have been that person for my whole life.

But I couldn't.  And since my sex life caused me to lose every job I had and end every possibility of a marriage, I have nothing to my name in old age but my story.

(Please click my PayPal button with high fives as my story is my only asset)


Click My PayPal button, please

This post that I copied from a 2009 journal was found in a 2011 journal, all of which I'm mining for first drafts, as I post online this serial book full of backstory that will just keep going and going and going. . . 

-Kay Ebeling

Today

LOL in my room at work again, this time on a press conference for X-Men opening soon, and HUGH JACKMAN is so naturally funny, warm, creative, loving. He makes me laugh again and again, through my headphones. I'm more connected to Hugh Jackman than any human on earth right now. what a weird life I live. My neighbors are already arguing over the community garden, I will probly quit that. But Hugh Jackman is in my ears telling jokes, and it's just us. (Posted just now on Facebook, click my name to connect)
Kay Ebeling 2 minutes ago