The trouble with living in a kids home is theres too many kids with too many problems and not enough staff or people to care about how to deal with these problem children.
I'm sure the powers that be do their best with limited time and resources, but the system fails the kids, its each kid fending for themselves.
I moved on to a foster parent and life was a bit better, but fell well short of normal life.When my foster parent decided to remarry to a drunk, life became a real living hell again. After being pinned up against a wall with hands thrust around my neck and threatened violently, i ran away again.
This time when the police picked me up i was locked away as a wayward girl.
This was a really horrible place, deprived of all rights, and made to feel like a criminal yet again. Worked round the clock and no schooling. This was not a prison, but it sure as hell felt like it. I spent six months there in total, by the time i left i hated the world and every body in it. It was shortly after this that i had decided i had had enough of this life.
What has this to do with Scientology? Scientology or the "Church" of Scientology deprived me of a Father, a family. My childhood might have been a bad one anyway, who knows. The fact is i never got the chance to find out what my childhood might have been because the "churches" practice of Disconnection saw to it that i was not allowed to have contact with my Dad.Stripped away my rights as a child. Stripped away my Dads rights as a parent. I have always wondered...... by what "right" did Scientology have the "right" to decide they knew better.
So on the 12/4/08 i will be protesting about Disconnection, i will be doing it for all the children who lost their parents to this horrible practice and for all the parents who lost their children to this mentally warped ideology.
L. Ron Hubbard was a science fiction writer that turned his fantasy stories into a reality, that reality has to stop.
The first time i thought about suicide was on the ship, just after i had got out of Liability. Wandering around the decks looking for people to sign my request to "rejoin the group". It was a dull bleak day and what was strange was there was no one around, unusual as most days there was lots of activity going on. Wandering around empty decks,cold, tired and hungry,although i wasn't consciously aware of any of these things. My mind was a blank, numb, if a thought entered my head, it was "i don't want to be here".
"How could i not want to be here?". This was meant to be the best place on earth, the answer to all mankinds problems. I knew i could drown. That was why i was so afraid of being overboarded. That seemed such a frightening way to go, i wanted to sleep and never wake up. I had no idea how to achieve this.
The second time i had these thoughts was at Abellund when there was no hope of ever seeing my Dad again, there wasn't even an ocean there and i had no other knowledge of how to go about ending ones life.
The third time was back in England when i realised i was never going to see my Dad again and i was still stuck with Scientology - there was no escape from it. The only way to escape the Scientology hold on my life was to distance my self from it and rebel.
So at 15, when i found myself in better circumstances than i had been for a long time, you would think there would be no need to be having suicidal thoughts. I had been placed with a family who had 4 boys, one of which was a baby and a toddler. They reminded me of my brothers. I think that was part of the problem, it was a constant reminder of life before the Sea Org and how the Sea Org had turned my life into utter chaos, had completely stripped me of myself as a human being. I was non existent.Or at least i thought i was.
I was what was known as a "Mothers Help",I spent a lot of time looking after the boys and their Mother was very kind to me. Her husband was nice too, but i was a little wary of him.Although after i had been there a while they wanted me to go to college and said they wanted to adopt me. But it was what they wanted, not what i wanted. That was the main problem, i didn't know what i wanted, it wasn't just a case of not knowing what i wanted, i didn't want to know.
Scientology had been "knowing how to know" and it had messed me up so much that i didn't want to "Know". I don't know if that makes sense to any one but me, but that was how i felt at that time.
The Mother of the boys became very sick at one point for a couple of months and i found myself having more and more responsibility, it all became too much and yet again i couldn't cope.
I had a boyfriend back in what i considered to be my home town, i hadn't seen him for months.I knew he was no good for me, but we both had had very turbulent childhoods and because of this , in my naivety i thought that was enough for our love for one another. The shared sense of being rejects, the kids no body wanted.So when i finally got to go and see him, i was really upset to find him with another girl, as if that wasn't so bad. He then tried to deny it, said i hadn't seen what i thought i saw. I most certainly had.
He kept telling me it was in my head, my imagination. I kept thinking what is it with people telling me i haven't seen what i know i have with my own eyes.Is this what life is, i'm the one that is always wrong. Nobody will believe you. This played on in my head again and again and again. It would not go away. Hubbard was right, it was me.
I was a Suppressive person.
By now i was savvy enough to know how to go to sleep and never wake up and that was what i intended to do, i almost succeeded too. So glad i didn't now.
As i'm writing this i find it incredible that that was how my mind worked back then. Amazing in as much as i knew everything LRH and his doctrines
had used to manipulate me had been wrong, i had no other way to interpret anything.Everything i based a decision on in some way reverted back to the things i had learnt in Scientology.Back then i really felt like i was the only ex scientologist in the whole world, so of course it had to be me that was wrong.
This is difficult to write,iv'e been putting it off. I talked to a friend about it the other day, hoping in some way she would feel it wasn't appropriate to write about it, she thought it was very appropriate.
I have mixed feelings, but it is part of my story so here goes.......
It is difficult to put into words just how miserable i felt at the time, i was at the lowest point i could get to, and i had had some really low points in my life thus far,everything was so magnified in my head, i had long given up all hope of ever seeing or finding out what had happened to my Dad. Social Services had tried to locate some of my family who had emigrated to America, without success.My foster mother had married a vicious drunk, my boyfriend had done the dirty on me and i was not allowed to go back to the town where i at least had some friends. There were no choices, or at least none that i could see. I was always going to be dictated to, told what i could and could not do.
There was no one, no one i could confide in, no one to talk to about my problems, no one to ask "where is my Dad?" because no one knew.
When i decided enough was enough and i would be better off dead, i planned it very carefully, i didn't want there to be any mishaps.It never occurred to me that it might upset anybody, because as far as i was concerned no body cared anyway.Strangely, as i'm writing this now i feel ashamed that i tried to end my life all those years ago,like it was a sign of weakness, at the time i felt it was a weakness. For years, since leaving the ship, i tried so hard to be strong, not show how hurt i was, pretend it didn't matter, i tried so damned hard to pretend it didn't matter. Putting on a brave face, that it hadn't affected me
Inside i was screaming "IT DOES MATTER, it matters a great deal" but nobody heard me, because i had to keep it to myself.
The trip out , i think it was to a wildlife park was planned a couple of weeks in advance, and again i pretended to be really excited about going, knowing full well i would not be going.I knew there was a full bottle of mogadon in the medicine cabinet and i knew if i took enough that would be it, all my troubles and grief would be gone, forever. This actually had a very calming effect on me.
Never again to have to wonder what happened to my Dad. Never again to have to think about L. Ron Hubbard and his crazy policies and his crazy ship, never again to have to wonder where my brothers were. Never again to cringe inside when asked "What happened to your family?" and then come up with a shore story, an acceptable truth. Yes Hubbard taught me well,i could use his methods in my life outside of Scientology, protecting the very thing that had ruined my life, only i didn't realise thats what i was doing, naively i thought i was protecting myself.
But there comes a point when you wonder just what you are protecting, and its easier to finish it. The cowards way out,at least thats what i thought.
The whole family were very excited about the trip, so i feigned feeling sick
and had a terrible headache. They said they would postpone until i felt better but i was insistent that i didn't want to spoil their day and they should go without me. Again it never occurred to me that i would spoil their day, by doing what i intended to do.It was all about me and my need to finish with this life, that i could no longer keep up the pretense of everything being alright.Everything was far from being right, everything was so bloody wrong.
I had said i would go back to bed, and hopefully sleep it off. When they had gone i downed the entire bottle of pills, handfulls at a time with lots of water, it made me feel really sick, it was a job to get them down, but i was determined. It didn't take long to feel very sleepy, and i remember thinking,at last........... i won't hurt any more.
On the journey out the family had discussed my not feeling well. The boys had said they didn't want to go without me and after a con flab they all decided to leave it to another day and come back home. Thats when they found me, unconscious.
I came to vaguely when my stomach was being pumped. I was so out of it, but i kept thinking NO, NO, NO i can not survive.
But i did. Two days later i came to, I felt really ill and i wanted to die all over again. I got up and went to the toilet, very muddled and wobbly on my feet, in the bathroom i looked in the mirror and was horrified to see my eyes. There was no white, there was bright red, not a speck of white to be seen. It felt bad enough that my plan had failed, but to live and be forever with totally bloodshot eyes, i looked like a freak.
The Mother of the family came to visit and was so upset that she hadn't noticed how unhappy i was. There was nothing i could say.
I had to see a psychiatrist, i freaked yet again, but i wasn't allowed to leave the hospital till i'd seen one.
He wanted to know why i would try to take my life, i wasn't prepared to discuss it. All psychiatrists are bad, yes, but Hubbard is bad, yes, but all psychiatrists are bad.
He changed tack, "What would make you happier?" "To go back to the town where my friends are" i said. "What happens if you can't do that" said the psychiatrist. "Then i will do it again and next time i will succeed" said I.
Against his better judgement my Social worker agreed to let me go back to where i had lived before, but instead of a foster home i moved into a bedsit on my own and replaced trying to kill myself with drinking heavily. It was the lesser of two evils. Living was proving to be a very hard thing to do and that bastard Hubbard had always said it would be impossible.It was to be a few more years before i could prove him wrong.There is life after Scientology
Re posted from ESMB.
When I first came on this message board, I had no intention of writing very much.It was said to me by a few well meaning friends and family, "You won't go picketing , will you?" "No" I said and I didn't think I would.
Well, I have written a fair amount now and I have been picketing and aim to continue on both counts.
But really I wanted to do more, much more.
I'm not sure that I believe in a God, but I do believe in people and it is people I would like to help, in whatever small way I can contribute.
On occasion I have had some e-mails from people asking me about Scientology. I had one recently, could be bogus, could be genuine. Asking about joining the Sea Org, parents coercing them to join
If it is genuine, then that is scary.As an ex sea org kid I know only too well how scary that is.
With the words of a friend still reeling in my mind, moving right into the belly of the beast that is Scientology, scary indeed.Yet, comforting in a strange way.
I have been thinking about this for sometime now and in light of what I personally have been going through wasn't sure whether or not I was up to it.I could just walk away, but my conscience won't let me.
If I could have had just one person to talk to about my ordeal in the sea org when I was a child, it would have made such a difference.
My name is Sharone Stainforth, in 1967-1969 I was a Commadores Messenger on board the Apollo with L. Ron Hubbard.
I live in England. My phone number is 01424 813946, if I'm not there leave a message and I will get back to you asap.
Since I put this on line, I have mainly had nutters phone whom i can quite frankly believe to be Scientologists whom think I am an SP. And do you know what, I admit I am. LOL !
I have had clicking heels as in Gestapo officers or MAAs as in the Sea Org, I have had people phone whom try and tell me I have contacted them for various improvements to my home or myself and the last weird call I answered was to tell me they thought I was laughing at myself. LOL!
I NO longer answer the phone, If someone wants to contact me seriously, they will have to leave a message and a contact number.