Some days I think, "Whose life is this anyway?" I cannot believe that my child was stolen from me with such guile, cunning, and seemingly premeditated tactics.
One day, I allowed my child to visit her absent father of 12 years and the next thing I know my precious daughter doesn't "feel safe" having a conversation with me.
All that she ever wanted was to get to know her absent father. Instead she was ensnared into his cult-like group pledging total allegiance to his leader--a "Shaman teacher of consciousness." At her tender teen age she didn't even know what hit her--such is the innocence of youth.
Always a free thinking spirit with a kind, caring, and loving heart, my daughter dared to be an intelligent and creative person who marched to the tune of her own drummer. She excelled in all that she undertook. My daughter is a gifted storyteller, artist and writer. She is also a musician and good at math. Always an avid team player she excelled within a group of carefully chosen friends--so many gifts and accolades.
My daughter is gifted in so many ways, but now appears to be an estranged cult member. Her keen mind seems to have been systematically reformed to believe her life was tormented until the day and hour she reached the promised utopian society of Friend's Landing.
This is a story of terror--not just a simple twist of fate. It is a twisted plot that seems carefully contrived by a master manipulator to exploit my tender child's brilliant mind.
I call Friends Landing, but I am not allowed to converse with my daughter. This sinister "Shaman" hangs the phone up on me. Moral counselors, religious leaders and others in the healing professions generally help their clients or followers attain wholeness and peace. But it seems to me that this Shaman WhiteWind encourages despair from abandonment, ratifies rage and accommodates anger in order to rule.
I want my daughter back. I need to hold her again in a warm embrace. I wish for the quiet conversations we once had. I need to hear her voice and girlish giggle again. I would like to watch movies together again and share our Kleenex in the sad parts like we used to. I want to see my daughter and banter back and forth with her--enjoying her lively sense of humor.
If only you could have known my child as she was--she could be the spice in your life as she once was in mine. She was so special in the lives of all those who knew her. She really made a difference. If you knew my daughter as she once was you would love her gentle and generous spirit just like me.
I wish someone could tell my daughter that she is precious to me and I love her. I am waiting for her with open arms and a forgiving heart. I wish someone would tell her how much I miss her and let her know that I pray for her safety and return some day.
Perhaps I was a fool to have trusted her father to care for her--when he doesn't seem be able to care for himself. He unknowingly sacrificed our daughter in exchange for some promised dream.
Some days I think, "Whose life is this anyway?"
Once upon a time I had a lovely and I believe, fairly well adjusted daughter. But she was snatched away from me. Isn't this a crime?