Wheat Field Bound
The above image is a mixed media masterpiece by internationally acclaimed artist, ROBERT GIRANDOLA.

Part I:

Entitled 'WHEAT FIELD BOUND,' this stunning work of art has had a profound impact on my life. I have detailed its effects on me in words and will soon be posting it to this blog as Part II. In this upcoming post, you will see parallels between this work of art, and my life, which will shock you. You will read a story that will make you believe in fate. You will read thoughts that will stir something inside of you; making you truly understand the ways in which you will want to live each day. You will gain a new appreciation and sense of gratitude for everything beautiful about life. It is what happened to me, and my gratitude is expressed in my words. Any person whom has experienced any sense of pain, tragedy, unhappiness, loss, or grief...any person whom is willing to be honest with their feelings will be impacted by this story.

Robert Girandola does not yet realize yet, the profound impact his art has had on me, and ultimately so many others, for he has not yet read my story. He granted me permission to use a photograph of his stunning masterpiece; for he too, knew after viewing my blog and the prevailing theme of fields of golden wheat, that there must be something fateful about our encounter on Twitter; something involving 'Wheat Field Bound.' He has been patient since I briefly explained to him that he inspired me to write about his art and the parallels between it; my healing journey; and my life. Robert will soon learn how 'Wheat Field Bound,' a work of art created this year, was born for a reason. Sometimes a person does not realize what it is that inspires them to create things the way they are created. Robert and others will understand a much deeper purpose for 'Wheat Field Bound,' after reading what is to come. Everybody will know how this glorious work of art, accelerated my healing journey; how one fateful click of his mouse led Robert to 'Confessions of a Tormented Soul;' a place where he would view the wheat field theme, and wonder if there was a reason he found my blog; my profile on Twitter. He was as stunned as I was; and will be even more so after he recognizes the profound and healing impact his art has had in my life; and in the lives of so many others...

Please visit again to read 'Wheat Field Bound,' Part II, for I can promise there will be something within the story which will move you in ways that could potentially make a huge difference in your life, and the lives of those around you. It is not because of my words, but rather, because of the messages received about healing, acceptance, forgiveness, compassion, empathy and life...Robert says he is "drawn to art on a sensory level; the music of charcoal scraping across paper, the smell of linseed oil or Belgium linen stretched over archival board, the texture and transition of light and color on wood panels, the feel of wet clay in his hands." I wonder how many will understand what sense it is that compelled Robert to create such a uniquely profound work of art; which would ultimately affect so many lives.

While waiting to read Part II of 'Wheat Field Bound,' please read 'A Challenge Presented,' if you have not yet done so; for it will provide you with insight necessary to understand how deeply profound this story truly is. Look at the left side of my blog, and you will notice a photograph of a woman's reflection in a mirror. That woman is me today; Pamala, a human sculpture in progress; a synthesis of life in motion; evolving and loving life more each day. That is a miracle. I removed my mask on a day, not long ago, when I realized I felt safe. A huge part of what made me feel safe enough to do so, was the profound feelings stimulated within me, by the image of 'Wheat Field Bound;'the many ways in which it contributed to my healing journey. Robert Girandola gave me a gift; one more meaningful than words could ever express. For anybody who knows me, I would like to ask that you please take a moment to thank Robert @RobertGirandola for the greatest gift one could ever give another; a second chance.

I just read this on Robert's website this morning: ‘There has been a poignant thread that runs through my adult life tying it all together. I am continually more involved in creating works that touch on freedom, spirituality and overcoming self-limitations. It's my intention to contribute to the body of work that awakens the soul to itself.’ It is but one more contributing factor to my belief that fate played a role in both the birth of 'Wheat Field Bound,' and the healing of my soul.

THE PARABLE OF THE WHEAT AND THE TARES
He put before them another parable: ‘The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well. And the slaves of the householder came and said to him, “Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where, then, did these weeds come from?” He answered, “An enemy has done this.” The slaves said to him, “Then do you want us to go and gather them?” But he replied, “No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.” ’

- Matthew 13:24-30

Please do yourself a favor and take a look at the work of this internationally acclaimed artist at: http://www.robertgirandola.com Robert; through his understanding "of the dread and uncertainty of a moment that united us all." created a masterful bronze sculpture entitled: “We Draw Strength From Each Other,” Honoring four firefighters who lost ther lives in the North Tower on September 11, 2001. This art is a permanent installation at Engine 6, Beekman Street in New York City.

Lastly, before returning to read Part II of 'Wheat Field Bound,' give yourself a gift and follow Robert; a truly gifted, creative genius on Twitter @RobertGirandola. I promise, you will be blessed for doing so...

Dedicated to @The_Aussie_Girl Inspired by so many, and in particular @lovemy4sons A Kindred soul who I am so honored to know. She has touched my life in immeasurable ways.
A special message to @TigerlillyRawr: She has a blog called 'Need A Reason To Be' She has a reason to be and is discovering it....

@KayDouglas I extend to you so much gratitude because I know you heard me; I know you understood.

I am a very blessed woman. For most of my life, I could never have said that; to anybody, because I did not feel that way inside. I did not feel deserving of anything, not even a meal to eliminate pangs of hunger. It is for a very deep purpose I am writing this right now, at this very moment in my life; my healing journey.

When first I began this journey, I was terrified and felt "naked" to the world. I had harsh physical symptoms caused by my intense fears associated with removing a mask I have been wearing my whole life. I anticipated that I would be on this journey for a very long time. I believed that for every time I wrote about or relived another painful memory for me, I would feel a deep sense of sorrow and grief. I knew, because I have been told in treatment, that if I did not release my pain, and allow myself to remember, I might risk being institutionalized for always. Ultimately I hoped that by writing about the nature of my tormented soul, I would slowly begin healing; and eventually, I might find my way to the light that I have always sought in my life; always dreamed would be there for me.

Anybody whom has read my blog already knows that I rarely write in first person. Each time I wrote in my blog about something painful for me, I had to retreat to a safe place in my mind, in order to be capable of doing it. I bled all over pages and pages; bits and pieces of trapped pain, but I did so as a person remembering as somebody else. I remembered as Alyson Doneau, a fictional person, a woman I created to be the one who was feeling the pain. I knew Alyson wasn't real. I knew because Alyson was not real, she would not feel the pain directly; so therefore I was not hurting another person. I knew that in real life, nobody could ever hurt Alyson, because she doesn't exist. I exist. I exist as a person whom has experienced the kind of trauma one would never expect to survive. I exist as a person who hides from the world. Because I have a great deal of responsibility to others, I exist to take care of them and to assure that they feel safe and happy in their lives. I exist as a person who never, ever allowed any person to truly know me, because I was so afraid that I would be rejected by them. I exist as a person whom has never learned that it is acceptable to be angry, and I have never felt hatred toward another human being.

Not long ago, I felt dejected, alone and unsafe. I had no hope left inside of me, and planned in an orderly manner, as I do everything, to take my own life. I almost did that two other times in my life. I will never forget hearing my mother talk about what it was like to hear signals from machines that indicated that I had stopped breathing, as I lay in a hospital room after overdosing on prescription pills. I don't yet remember taking the pills as I did so in a dissociative state of mind. I allowed my stress, and pain to become so great that I lost all of my memory as a coping mechanism. It is called a dissociative fugue. In this state of mind, I took the pills. In this state of mind, I nearly died.

I started my blog as a healing journey. Sometime later, I linked my blog to a Twitter account with the intent that I would use Twitter for short bursts of journaling my memories...for times I did not feel strong enough to write the details. I needed this alternate resource to supplement my blog. Some people
may wonder why I chose to heal in this manner; so openly. Some may wonder why I am not in therapy at this moment. There are reasons; good ones, but today it doesn't seem important to focus on them.

What is important today is that I can sit here, and as I prepare to write the remainder of this particular post, I feel unafraid. I feel as though, for the first time, I am strong enough to write in first person. I am strong enough to write as myself, and not as a fictional character I created. I am strong enough to say that someday I truly believe now, that I will remove my mask. I won't do so because I will feel completely healed because I have concluded that complete healing from what I experienced is likely not possible. The difference today is that I recognize that complete healing is not what I am seeking, and I don't need to be completely healed to feel whole as a person, valued, unique, happy, and deserving of good things.

I am grateful for feeling so blessed in this moment. In one hundred years, I could not express the gratitude I feel inside of me. Here is where the real and true topic of my post begins. I call it 'A Challenge Presented' because four days ago, I happened across a young woman whom I was immediately drawn to; because I could sense that she, too, was suffering inside. I clicked the link that led to her blog; what I later determined was a vehicle for her to express her own trapped pain. I read a blog post; a list of things she hated about another person. At the end, I learned that she was referring to her mother. I read other things she had written, and after doing so, I knew without question, that this young woman @The_Aussie_Girl is not truly capable of hating another. I truly believe that she suffers, and that having the word 'hate' in her vocabulary is a way for her to release her pain. Over and over again I read: I hate. I hate. I hate. I hate. I hate. Not once was she convincing, because the rest of her blog proved otherwise.

In a series of tweets exchanged between us, I told her that I believed she could reach a place that would allow her to replace the word 'hate' with words like 'forgiveness' and 'acceptance' of limitations. I told her this confidently, because I knew that there existed nothing else in my life for which I had more pride than my ability to forgive others; and for my ability to accept the limitations of others. I presented her with a challenge. I was overjoyed that she accepted the challenge. #aussiegirlchallenge was born on that day and it will be a day etched in my heart and memory forever. Here's why:

This challenge, although presented directly to @The_Aussie_Girl, is for everybody whom is willing to admit that they have something inside of them that needs to be purged from their soul. There is nobody in this life who could ever convince me that they do not have some level of pain; that they are not wounded in some way. I believe the difference between me and some is that I am willing to admit that I not only suffer, but also that I have mental illness because of that pain that I shove so deep inside of me. I am not ashamed of having a mental illness, nor am I ashamed any longer to write about what it is that causes me to suffer; why it is that I call myself Tormented Soul.

Without going into detail, I am just going to write a few shocking things about myself that go beyond what I have already shared in my blog. I was abused as a child; physically, mentally and sexually. I was hungry as a child and knew the pain of feeling as though I did not deserve to eat. I suffered from night terrors; waking up screaming 5-6 times each night, physically trying to escape from something or someone. There were special locks installed on the doors in

the white house in which I lived, so that I could not run outside during one of these terrors. My mother was an alcoholic. My father was an abusive man. My ability to have children was stolen from me by my first husband, the first boyfriend I ever had in high school. I have been operated on many times to remove every female organ I had. There was nothing that could be done to protect my ability to conceive a child. I was a loner throughout all the years of my schooling. I did not have friends, and never felt as if I deserved even one. I thought I left my childhood behind when I first got married and moved away, only to end up being tortured again; mentally, physically and sexually. I was locked in an attic closet for seven months. In this closet there was nothing but darkness and despair. The last words I remember being spoken to me when I was put in that closet were that I could have a pan of water and drink it like a dog, because I deserved nothing better. This was said to me as the only source of light was shattered by the man who put me in that closet. I had burning matches thrown at my naked body by my husband and his friends. They laughed as I did what I could to numb my body to the sting of the flames, and my mind to the sting of the anguish. I escaped that marriage in a suicidal state of mind. I did not want to live anymore. I was vulnerable, and still very young and I fatefully walked through the door of a safe place; a place where I experienced for the first time, ever, the feeling of having a friend, people who cared about me; and it was the first time in my life I felt hopeful that I had a chance to survive and to have a purpose and reason for living. I didn't know it at the time, but that was the wrong door to walk through. Behind that door was a very evil man who was a master of manipulation. He was a cult leader. He was a man who would discover all of my secrets and use them to distort my perception of reality. He promised me he could help me not have night terrors, and he kept that promise. He promised me that he was my friend, and that he would never hurt me. I guess I needed to hear that so desperately that I believed it with every fiber of my being. I allowed him to hypnotize me and it worked, my nightmares stopped. I slept through each night with peace. He was preparing me for something greater. My night terrors became the nightmare that was my real life every day. Ultimately, "Bad Man" ended up hurting tens of thousands of people in the United States and other countries. He was so powerful that he hurt them without ever meeting them. He did so with his evil cult-like words, written on paper. Later, this man (I have always referred to him as "Bad Man" because I cannot yet say his name.) would strip me of what identity remained within me. In a dissociative state he raped me, more than once and I remember vividly the pain that caused. This is the first time I said it as myself. This is the first time I have written it as myself, rather than Alyson Doneau, the fictional character I created. The same "Bad Man" kidnapped me and took me out of the country. He forced me to chop my hair off and dye it a different color at gunpoint. He was a Psychopath. He felt powerful because he had complete control of every thought; every action. When he brought me back into the United States, he told me he knew my every thought and that if I ever once thought about escaping he would know, and my punishment would be that he would kill a family member, or somebody else I loved. I could not commit suicide then, because in my mind I believed that if I did, I would be signing a death sentence for those I loved. Instead, I told myself I deserved every bad thing he and every perpetrator did to me. Surely I deserved it because that is all I had ever known. Throughout the period of time I was held captive by "Bad Man," I was told by him that my name was Jennifer. I was confused, and in a dissociative state so to me I was just Jennifer. I still don't understand today how in my mind I could be Jennifer, but have loved ones somewhere for whom I was terrified. Who were they? I didn't really know then, but I knew I loved them and I knew I had to protect them; and I knew that he could and would kill them if I even thought about escaping, so I didn't. I don't remember where, when or under what circumstances he was apprehended because of my dissociative condition. I know it is documented, but I refrain from reading that material, because I am not ready to know everything. "Bad Man" went
to prison for a long time; but not for what he did to me. Nobody received punishment of any kind for what they did to me. "Bad Man" went to prison and I was left to continue feeling as though he still had control over my thoughts. I believed he could still harm people; even kill them. Not long after I met "Bad Man" and before I knew he was evil, my young brother was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. In the hospital, I and other family members were told that he would likely not survive the first night of hospitalization. "Bad Man" told me he would live; that he had given him the tumor to prove to me that he had power. "Bad Man" was right. My brother lived through that night. Later the doctors told us that if he did not receive chemotherapy after surgery, his prognosis was no longer than eighteen months to live. "Bad Man" told me he would allow my brother to live if I could recall seven virtues related to a religion he created. "Bad Man" told me that my nightmares as a child and beyond were the result of being communicated to by one of seven who represented these seven virtues. "Bad Man" said if I tried to remember the virtues, he would let my brother live. I tried. I thought if I continued trying I would be able to save my brother. "Bad Man" let him live.

So anybody reading this by now will likely think that I am very severely mentally ill; and that I likely have no chance of leading a normal life. People tried to buy my story, even when they did not know everything. My story gained worldwide attention in the media and would be printed in newspapers, and magazines, broadcast on news stations, and talked about for a long time. It was sensationalized; sensationalism at its finest. But, it wasn't the real story. It was a version of a story that wasn't true. Since I could tell nobody the real story because I was mentally incapable, I was again faced with judgments about things that were written that never happened. All the while, I was overlooked. There were many people who knew some of the truth, but they did not protect me. I was not protected as a child, nor was I protected as a young adult. To look at me, anybody could see that I was crying for help...but none was there; nobody was there. Nobody saved me from anything. The result was horrible. I struggled every day, and still do to this very day. I was offered great sums of money in exchange for book and television/movie rights to my story. I said absolutely not; I am not, nor will I ever be for sale. I don't know where I got the courage to say that. Here comes the best part of all of this. Yes, there is a best part, even in all that is written above.

I do not hate a single human being. I am not a victim, nor will I ever be. I am a productive and worthwhile woman. I deserve to be loved. I deserve to eat a meal. I deserve to not feel sick when I do eat a meal. I deserve to believe that "Bad Man" does not have any power over me, nor will he ever have power over me again. I deserve to know that I am a good and moral person. I deserve to have friends. I deserve to be blessed by others in my life. I deserve to look in the mirror and love the face that stares back at me. I am not a victim, nor will I ever be. I am a productive member of my community and have been in every community in which I lived. I have never harmed another person, never would or could. I am responsible. I am intelligent. I am compassionate. I am kind. I am loving. I am faithful, loyal and committed to those who know the real me. I am a very good friend. Someday, I will meet a man who will feel blessed to have me in his life. Today, I feel strong. I know I will fall down again, but I also know that I will stand right back up to face the next day. I know I will be hurt again, but I also know that it is adversity that makes me stronger. There are people who love me in this world. There are people who would never believe that I am Tormented Soul because I have hidden my pain from them; but these same people would say that I am a wonderful, loving, compassionate person who is good to the core. I have always been kind to others. I will always treat people the way I would want them to treat me. I am proud of myself. I feel proud that I am able to write this today, and even prouder that I can put it up for the world to see. I am not afraid.

There will be repercussions to sharing. Someone in the media will look for me again. Someone will want to think I'm for sale. Do you see what I am doing? I am putting my story out there so there will no longer be anything for anybody to pursue. Can you tell that I am getting stronger every single day? Can you see yourself anywhere in this story? I'll bet many of you can, and I hope those who can will allow themselves to be transparent. I hope that anybody who reads this who has a locked account on Twitter for fear of letting others get a peek of who they are, will unlock it, and accept what is about to happen as a result, but only if they let it.

I hope the people whom are willing to admit that they have ever had any of the feelings I have had, will find a reason to say to themselves today: "I am not a victim and I will not live my life as a victim." I hope somebody who feels undeserving will go to the mirror today and look at their reflection. I hope
they will smile because they feel love for the person staring back at them. I hope somebody will admit to themselves today that they have a newly found strength and determination to stand back up; knowing that they will fall again, but accepting that it is part of this roller coaster life we all live. I hope somebody will say today: "It's ok if I fall down, because I know somebody will pick me up if I let them. If they don't at that moment, I know that I can stand up myself for now and get right back in this game of life. I know that if I allow them to, somebody is going to encourage me today, and tell me that I deserve strength, courage, love, kindness and hope. I hope many people will pray today, for all the people who have lost hope in our world, and all the people who are feeling less than strong. I hope many people will feel blessed today because they will recognize and appreciate all the good things they have; all the blessings, and remember what truly is important. Love is important. Forgiveness is important. Feeling and expressing gratitude is important. Faith is important. Hope is important. Compassion is important. I hope somebody will say today, if they are feeling intense anger or even hatred, that those emotions do not have to be a part of their life. I hope somebody will make it their goal today to make another person or many people laugh. I hope somebody will smile at a stranger today. I hope many people reach out to another today, if for no other reason, than just to tell them they are special. I hope everybody will contemplate today and reflect upon every good thing about life. Life is hard. I know that. But I also know that life has many rewards for those whom choose to keep the door open; for those who choose to recognize that all of us suffer in some way, but more importantly...all of us can make a difference if we choose to make a difference. That is my choice. I choose to make a difference today and every day. I choose to strive to achieve everything I am deserving of. I choose happiness over sadness. Mostly I hope many will follow some amazing people on Twitter. Take a risk because everything we do is risky, and it's just ok. We can't change that about life, but why do we even need to? We can do the best we can; not allowing our sadness to become so overwhelming that we force ourselves into situations that are more likely to make us feel like victims. I am so happy to have the same choices everybody has. I do not want to surround myself with negativity. I want to surround myself with positive people who have a wonderful outlook on life in general. I am choosing to keep my heart open to every good possibility because I know I will never be healed if I keep closing those doors. I made a choice to live, and I am so happy and grateful for having the opportunity to make that choice. You know what? We all have that choice. Bad things happen to good people; but
good people do not have to allow those bad things to define and shape who they are as a person. Go now...look in the mirror and introduce yourself to the best person you know...YOURSELF. Say "hello sunshine," I am very glad to know you and I want to know you better. YOU are going to make a difference.

These people have and are going to make a huge difference and I am blessed to know them: @lovemy4sons @The_Aussie_Girl @Suzidk @bitslaw @autsmama98 @Jeff0134 @Teresacooper @cupcakes5 @planethealer @windowsot @KristyRNinAZ @fxp123 @twicullen @TigerlillyRawr @MrRayofSunshine @RichBassett @Conniedr @HealMyPTSD @RiWrites @SchuggaJoy @MomsofAmerica @VetsOnTheWatch @theamericanwars @LL108 @LilGrasshopper @zbleumoon @JaimieH @Abeeliever @MikeGackler @JohnLusher @Awannabeangel @IanDispozed @debSellsBR @HelenaKwockSun @whiskey_kitten @DarrenSproat @zenshine @DonaldUSAFan @ChrisShort @LostNMissing @spreadingjoy @Bad95killer @ChirpChump @ForTheUnderdog @Timberwolf123 @CatherineGrison @fjstreeter @Elfspear @HennArtOnline @jenny2s @quelli24 @CarePathways @DJKevyK4life @ryanbiddulph @slkbrooke @a4aspie @pillpushera @blogomomma @Daddony58 @the1Klamb @alexakim @LisiSilveira @MatthewBreddan @markhundley @ibeatcancrtwice @jaxio @joeygiggles @CharPrincessa @teeco71 @PICKLESX2 @arbonneteam @PamelaGlasner @JstMe2691 @dullyM @seekzpeace