I did not start EMDR as a survivor of RAMCOA (ritual abuse, mind control and organised abuse). Rather, EMDR was an intervention that facilitated the exposure of a shocking truth.
I had been in therapy for some time when I began to have suspicions that sexual abuse was part of my life history in the form of repressed memories. I couldn’t remember any specific incidents, but I had learned about ‘trauma’ at a weekend workshop, and the symptoms of unresolved trauma described by the facilitator explained so much about me. It was a relief to begin to have language and a framework to help understand the difficulties I was experiencing across all areas of my life.
I knew about repressed memories after reading an autobiography about a woman’s strange and intense physical symptoms that could not be ignored, and which were not helped by conventional medicine. As the story progressed, she tried many alternative therapies, eventually recovering formerly repressed memories of childhood abuse. Once she was conscious of what had occurred, the physical symptoms eased.
I cannot place my suspicions about my own history in weird physical symptoms, or in one event or blinding realisation. Little red flags appeared over a span of almost twenty years – fleeting events like a question posed to me about possible childhood sexual abuse after the birth of my first child, or the disquiet that the ‘me too’ movement evoked in me without clear reason. The recognition of the symptoms of trauma in my being after that workshop was the final piece, nudging me into confronting the question head on.
I emailed my psychologist, very unsure yet wanting to lay this question to rest one way or another. She responded quickly – affirming that she had wondered the same and that some of my behaviours and issues seemed extreme for the story of my childhood as I had told it. Part of the presenting issue when I began therapy was an intense feeling of terror and dread that came over me every evening as the sun set, remaining constant and intrusive until I managed to get to sleep. Months of talk therapy had not shifted it.
Before working in private practice, my psychologist trained in EMDR under its founder, Francine Shapiro, and had used the modality extensively in her work with Vietnam Veterans experiencing complex PTSD. She now suggested this modality to address the terror and dread, also mentioning that in her experience it had the potential to unlock repressed memories.
The choice was mine and I took time to consider. A friend and survivor of severe childhood abuse advised me that healing was more important than ‘chasing memories’. But how could I adequately ‘heal’ if I did not know what I was healing from? I needed to know the truth of my life.
I was nervous before the first EMDR session. I was asked to feel into the terror and dread and whether there were any words (beliefs) associated with it. I followed the hand movements whilst still feeling the terror. After a few seconds – and very suddenly – a new memory experience intruded into my mind. I physically felt a heavy weight upon my body, rendering me powerless to move. I felt small, and I was pushed front first onto a surface. My head was turned to the right and I saw some unusually shaped windows. The terror and dread intensified to an unbearable degree.
A whooshing sensation rushed upward through me and abruptly I was out of my body and watching my psychologist and myself from the ceiling above our bodies. My body could not speak. It was frozen in shock and terror. The psychologist noticed immediately that something unusual had occurred and asked if I was okay. For a few moments I was literally unable to answer.
Eventually I found and gathered the parts of myself, for it felt that I had exploded out like fragments into a vast universal space. I described what had happened and began weeping. I was in a space of shock. It seemed clear from those few seconds that something HAD happened to me as a child, but to have long-held suspicions validated is not as simple as relief. Were those overwhelming sensations what I truly experienced as a child? No wonder the mind channels overwhelming experiences behind amnesic barriers.
That first day, I was too shaken and afraid to continue with EMDR, not knowing enough of it to trust the process. My psychologist wanted to follow my lead and not push to continue when I was clearly distressed. The next few days were rough as I processed new – and devastating – understanding about my life and self.
After some time I returned to EMDR, asking to try it again after reading up on its potential to lessen symptoms, as the nightly terror was still occurring. Despite that first shocking EMDR session, I was still firm in my determination to uncover further information or memories. My psychologist individualised EMDR, cycling between allowing time for associated memories to arise, and desensitisation. However, she was firm about finishing a session with positive closure.
We tried to proceed very slowly and gently. The next few sessions of EMDR brought more memory flashes and more sudden departures from the body. Both my psychologist and I were curious about what was occurring. Nearly every session we had deep discussions about the risks of continuing EMDR given the degree of dissociation that was occurring. I was given many opportunities to stop. I felt like I was finally beginning to unravel a large ball of knotted wool that was my life, my ‘eccentricities’, things about my childhood I could not explain, and the increasing difficulty of keeping up with ‘normal’ life. Each EMDR session ended with me out of my body like that first time, often unable to speak for a time. Yet the nature of it changed over time, from a sudden departure to a subtle shift of consciousness. It was not a painful place to be in – I labelled it the ‘place beyond speech’, and it somehow held me in a benign state free of emotion while I gathered the strength to return.
There was relief and a sense of reclamation, difficult though it was. As months of weekly sessions rolled by, larger sections of memory began returning, and it became harder and then impossible to end with a positive or even neutral closure. There simply seemed to be no end to disturbing sensations or memories. EMDR sessions took on a new rhythm of us trying to find a good closure point but failing. Extreme dissociation ended the sessions for us – my body was limp and unmoving as my mind rested in the place beyond speech, or inside myself I was grappling with the visceral experience of the memories and the way they suddenly destabilized my sense of identity.
My psychologist would ask me to speak or move, hold my hand, wait a time, then haul me to my feet for a walk around her bushland property. The movement helped me return to myself and we would then debrief over a cup of sweet tea before I was able to drive home. We began scheduling larger blocks of time for each session in response to what was occurring. I was extremely fortunate in that this psychologist was older and not dependent on income from clients. She had the luxury of being able to commit to deeper work with fewer clients pro bono or on individualised fees.
In our many discussions about the wisdom of pursuing more memories, we worried that EMDR was somehow bypassing the natural protective mechanisms of the mind, facilitating the return of too much at once. Concern about retraumatization was significant, however it was as though the door had been opened to a particular journey that was not yet over. I felt compelled to continue, not out of powerlessness but out of a sense of rightness about the journey, despite the exacerbation of trauma symptoms in my daily life. I simply had to go on.
One day, many months into our EMDR sessions, the memory recovery happened differently. A little girl was there to tell her story, in her own voice. By now it was clear to my psychologist that the nature of the abuse that had occurred was extensive, organized and ritual in nature. Different children began emerging every session to share their memories, expressing different voices, mannerisms and personality traits than before.
For the first year of EMDR and recovery of memories, I purposely did not read any accounts of repressed memories, or of childhood sexual abuse or ritual abuse, in order to preserve the integrity of the EMDR process. Eventually I started with the book The Courage to Heal (by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis), which mentions ritual abuse. From there I followed a trail of survivor accounts that mirrored my own, accounts that increasingly included events ritual in nature, forced perpetration, spiritual abuse and mind control/programming amongst other aspects.
My psychologist gently introduced the concept of ritual abuse, and of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), both of which I vehemently denied. My research told me that everyone who experienced ritual abuse was DID. In the face of this fact, the memories and other alters that were now appearing, and my psychologists’ knowledge of ritual abuse and DID, I eventually had to accept what was, for me, the hardest truth about my self/selves and my life.
DID has a unique presentation among survivors of RAMCOA. Alters/parts do not spontaneously emerge in a clever protective act as they do for other peoples with DID. Amnesic splits/alters are deliberately facilitated though torture, sometimes from birth or even in utero.
Dozens of alters are created over time for various purposes: child parts who hold different aspects or sense memories of very intense and terrifying experiences; child parts who are trained to do specific jobs such as sexually perform a certain way or take specific roles in ceremonies; cult or group loyal parts who enforce order in the internal system and who remain obedient to their outside masters; and many other parts with various jobs from managing child parts to turning programs on and off.
Underpinning the formation of all alters and ensuring the obedience of the entire system is mind programming. Mind programming is essentially classical conditioning, taken to its most extreme form (torture), and accompanied by spiritual and psychological abuse, creating dependency on and loyalty to the cult group. Over years, programmed thoughts and beliefs become enmeshed in the survivor’s thoughts and feelings. It is common for survivors of religiously themed or satanic ritual abuse to believe they are inherently evil, bound to Satan or some other deity by a soul contract, and to have ‘automatic’ thoughts or impulses during the day or on dates significant to the cult group.
Programming has a significant effect on any survivor’s efforts to attend therapy or help themselves. In practice, this means that the survivor may be ‘punished’ by internal programs after every appointment. Punishments involve anything from headaches, the flooding of the system with the emotional distress of child parts, to self-harm and suicide programs. Programming is one of the most important aspects of ritual abuse to address, as it will undermine every effort to heal.
I/we still use EMDR regularly with our therapist, now in a highly focused way, partially following a protocol laid down by Alison Miller in her helpful book on ritual abuse, Healing the Unimaginable. We do EMDR on the initial instance of abuse related to a specific form of programming. This brings up the memory of how the programming was installed, showing me/us the trickery used by the perpetrators in their efforts to install programming, it gives the children involved a chance to speak, and ultimately takes some of the charge out of that form of programming.
We no longer dissociate for long periods of time. As we have learned to navigate our plurality, and understand the nuances of RAMCOA, we can now return to an adult within minutes. We no longer experience terror and dread on a nightly basis – it is not gone altogether but reduced to trauma-versary or crisis times (of which there are many).
EMDR is a powerful and helpful tool that is relevant for people recovering from ritual abuse. However, there are many complexities to navigate for/with this survivor:
• If the therapist has no experience with ritual abuse or programming, seeking supervision from a clinician who does, or embarking upon self-education is highly recommended before commencing EMDR (Alison Miller’s books are highly recommended)
• Establish a plan for support between sessions, because crisis times will occur. What social or support network does the client have? What insiders can help support healing without activating programming? What purposeful activities can the survivor be supported to engage in?;
• Allow plenty of time for each EMDR session – two to three hours, if possible, to allow for the unexpected and to have a greater chance of positive closure;
• If this time allowance is not possible and sessions are one hour, before commencing EMDR I would recommend:
– Spend as long as necessary building connection and gathering as much information as possible about the survivor’s internal system, including how programming and punishments are set up, as well as completing the other steps mentioned here;
– Establishing support plans for crisis times and between sessions is the essential first step and knowledge of the internal system is crucial for being able to reduce dissociation or crisis. A survivor of RAMCOA will likely not be able to manage alone initially;
• A clinician must be strong in themselves, as cult loyal alters will try to trick or deceive them in an effort to sabotage the relationship and the survivor’s healing. A solid rapport and degree of trust between therapist and client is essential;
• Dissociation is going to happen. Discuss strategies together for how the therapist can best respond and support;
• EMDR will not happen ‘by the book’ with a RAMCOA survivor. Be adaptable, creative, and prepare and plan for eventualities;
• Be realistic about healing goals when working with ritual abuse survivors. This type of trauma is likened to that of prisoners-of-war in severity, and the addition of mind programming makes every healing step prolonged and fraught;
• Hold hope for the survivor, even when they cannot. Ritual abuse survivors have experienced some of the darkest and most extreme aspects of humanity. The compounding nature of physical, sexual, psychological and spiritual abuse is an intimidating healing process.
By Hero, founder of Ritual Abuse Survivors’ Association www.therasa.org
