Kaitlyn’s first flight since the introduction of TSA Radiation Machines and “Enhanced Pat Downs”
Today I flew for the first time since the Radiation Machines and the “Enhanced Pat Downs” came into existence in the United States. Having PTSD, I psychologically tried to prepare myself for the possibility of a pat down. It turned into a much worse nightmare than I had even tried to conjure up in my mind while trying to prepare for it. Prior to this flight I tried to convince myself that others were embellishing, that this really was not happening. That the stories of TSA feeling people up, grabbing crotches and touching breasts, with no legal impact, were not real. I wanted to deny it. Well guess what….it is real! It is worse than I had ever imagined!
The following is my experience on October 17, 2011 flying from Phoenix, AZ to Salt Lake City, Utah:
After removing my boots and stripping down to a light, fairly see through camisole which was under the suit jacket I had already taken off, removing my belt from a pair of form fitting pants (both pieces worn thoughtfully and intentionally to show there could be nothing hiding underneath), I saw the TSA guy sending everyone through the radiation machine.
I am up next in line. I tell the male TSA agent, in a low, non-confrontational voice, “I don’t want to go through the radiation machine.”
In a dramatic, loud voice, for all to hear, he states, “Now since you told me you don’t want to go through the radiation machine (yes, he did repeat radiation machine), I have to wonder why not AND now I HAVE to pull you aside for an “enhanced pat down.” Again, quietly, I said to him, “I simply don’t want the radiation exposure.”
He replies, quite loudly again, for all to hear, “Well we have to wonder what you may be hiding since you said you don’t want to go through it. If you had said nothing, then MAYBE I would have CHOSEN YOU to walk right through. BUT NOW I can’t do that.” “Next time don’t say anything!”
Now Mr. Control Freak (AKA- TSA Agent) gets on his radio calling for a “female agent needed for a female pat down.” After several calls a man wearing blue latex gloves appears. He looks at me smiling while wiggling his fingers and says, “Oh, I guess, this won’t work”. He then laughs. I stare at his perverseness in disgust. Finally, a female “agent” comes to begin the violation of my body.
Having PTSD, I started to panic about the thought of some stranger touching me. This is a huge trigger for me. I felt like vomiting. Rage seared through me as my eyes brimmed with tears. The woman kindly explained everything she was going to do. She sensed my uneasiness and even asked if I had not been through this before. Yet she proceeded in her violation of my body.
She begins, “I will be running my hand firmly and high up your thigh” (interpretation…I will be feeling your crotch). “I will be running the back of my hand down the middle of and around your chest” (interpretation…I will be fondling your breasts). “I will be checking your waistband” (interpretation…I will be pulling your waistband out and looking down your pants).
I said to her, “This is as invasive as going to a gynecologist, only I keep some of my clothes on AND I have a choice to go to one of them OR not”. Her response was, “It’s not that bad at all and it’s better than having some crazy person board the plane.”
After the airport molestation was completed, I was filled with rage. I looked around as I put my belt, jacket, and boots back on only to find no one in my camp. Everyone else seemed to be accepting and continuing on as though no violations against their body were occurring. I am certain these “Enhanced Pat Downs” are also great entertainment for the perverts who were present thinking they were seeing one woman felt up by another. The “agent” offered me a “private room” and I refused because I wanted to stay where I had witnesses if anything should happen.
I feel violated. I feel oppressed. What makes people follow along like a bunch of mindless sheep and not stand up for their rights? What makes so many laugh about being stripped of their civil liberties? What makes a society so accepting and conditioned to airport molestation? They even send their kids through to be violated. What type of message is this sending to our children?
Are we really so willfully ignorant to not see we are being terrorized on a daily basis by fellow Americans who succumb to such practices, who agree to violate their fellow American’s rights for their jobs? Really? What have we become? Are we so mind numbed by all the pharmaceuticals and dumbed down entertainment that we are now robots who do and say whatever we are told? THIS IS NOT OKAY!
I don’t know if other countries have become so desensitized and simple minded as Americans when it comes to total violations and loss of their privacy, but we as a nation should have more respect and pride. Even if I did not suffer from PTSD, I would not want a stranger feeling me up AND I certainly would not let a stranger grope my child under the guise of Airport Security.
I called my husband after this violation and, in rage, relayed the story to him with tears nearly falling. I paced frantically in the boarding area now. I felt like a caged animal. I wanted to scream. I wanted to lash out. Did no one else care about having just been felt up by a stranger? Did no one else see they were just stripped of their civil liberties and their Government is allowing this to happen to control them, not protect them?
I wanted to yell, “WILL EVERYONE WAKE UP??!!” “You simple minded idiots!! What will it take for you to wake up?” “Why do you have no voices, why do you let your Government..which is suppose to be for the people…by the people, keep stripping you of your dignity and self-respect?”
“What will it take for you to fight for your rights and your children’s rights?” “Why is this acceptable to you?” “Why don’t you feel violated like I do?” “If you don’t stand for something of significance, for something that wakes you out of your comatose mindsets then just go away to a private island where apathy, desensitization and ignorance are the norm. Then you and yours can live a mindless, worthless existence while giggling and smiling as the chains of oppression and control become ever tighter around your throats. This will be a place where you can all laugh and follow one another while each of you are being raped and pillaged by your “leaders”. Take your group think to that private island of willful ignorance and let those of us who give a damn and have a conscious left….fight for our right to live and fight for our civil liberties and peace!”


Just Listen

It’s amazing how life turns out.  I never aspired to be a writer; yet I have written a book—a book that reveals my life during one of my darkest times. I questioned, Do I really want to do this? As you read on, you will find I was once one of the most closed off, emotionless people that ever lived! So who was I to write a book, sharing my deepest, most desperate emotions?

In my twenties, I studied psychology to see if I could figure things out—things that had happened to me in my life.  I wanted to figure out why the people involved did what they did.  To my dismay, I never completely figured this out.

After working hard to get a college education, I then became a business executive.   I excelled in this role until “The Great Darkness” entered my life.  All of a sudden, I had no interest in being involved with all the politics of corporate America anymore.  My eyes were opened to many truths that I now find unappealing.  I finally figured out the game, and I did not like what I saw.

I was thirty years old when the first waves of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder—my “Great Darkness”—began to appear.  I remember cooking something on the stove, and in the pan, I saw images from my past.  I do not recall exactly what I saw anymore … but it horrified me.  It was a memory of someone from the past who was no longer supposed to exist in my world.  That person was supposed to have been tucked away forever in the recesses of my mind, never to appear again.  The memory was something buried, and how dare it appear in a pan while I was quietly cooking and minding my own business?  For a few days, the experience shook me to the core.  But soon I repressed everything again and moved on.   Just work harder, do more, and don’t stop, and these things cannot enter your life because there will be no room.

By this time in my life I coped by trusting no one completely, except animals.   I was tough and showed little emotion.  Feelings were for sissies and weak people.    I had little regard for my emotions or anyone else’s.  People would say I was like a faucet.  I could turn things on and off.  They would ask me if I ever felt anything. Often, I could honestly say no.  No one knew why I was this way, not even me.  I thought I was strong, independent, and bordering on arrogant, if I had not already crossed that line.  I didn’t know myself anymore.  Looking back, I don’t think I would have wanted to know someone like me.

Today, my life is one of healing.  I can no longer do the type of work I used to do because I can’t play the games. I don’t have the energy, and I honestly cannot get passionate about selling things that others believe are so vital to the community and the world, when they are not.  In finding myself, I did not expect to lose my career and the identity of who I was as a professional, but I did.

The reality is, after what I have been through, my focus is now on helping others—helping others through their own Great Darkness and assisting them with resources and encouragement that I did not have.  I understand PTSD and how debilitating and life-altering it is once you become symptomatic.  The pain is searing and the losses are great.    So now, here I am—an author of a book that evolved from my own suffering, written with the intent of assisting others.  I am finally finding a passion in a career that was built on personal suffering … not self-glory … not being a top sales person … not producing like a maniac … but by suffering and being led by the glory of God so that maybe I can help others.

As an endnote: I was confused about what to do with this blog.  Why have it?  What is the goal?  Will it be effective?  Why bother?  Then it came to me that all we need to do is communicate.  Nothing fancy, nothing packaged, no agenda.  Just open, honest communication about what you are feeling.  Let’s communicate, and maybe I can be a flicker of light in the darkness for you.  It’s that simple … we will listen to each other and keep those of you suffering with PTSD (and this still includes me on many days) focused on the fact that there is hope; there is help.

So use this forum to share your pain, your hopes, and what you do that helps during your symptomatic times.  Know that those who participate in this forum will always be here to listen.