Zero to 5th Husband ................. by Loren Brown
Hi, I'm Loren and I invite you to accompany me, via my testimony, on a journey through the part of my life I call 'the tempestuous years, to a period which was, tumultuous, terrifying, exhilarating and awe inspiring and fortunately embraced both the depths of despair and boundless hope. I use ‘fortunately’ and ‘depths of despair’ in the same sentence because without sinking so low, I wouldn’t have reached the fascinating and extraordinary heights that ensued.
I was spurred on to write because I had recently seen on TV and read in the newspapers, the subject of recurring debilitating nightmares and how thousands of people suffer with them and how they are then treated with prescribed drugs, which only dumbs down the symptoms and does absolutely nothing to seek out and eliminate the root cause.
It’s also here I explain, that I've had a husband for every decade of my adulthood. Yes that's right, I'm on my fifth, a truly wonderful man who has ‘engaged with me emotionally’ and who helped me lose the 'baggage' I had collected from around the world, and he doesn't even work at Terminal 5!! And Ray admits that his life has become enriched by the experience........However, husbands aside as they are closely examined in my forth coming book, I would like to take you back to my teens and early twenties, back to the ‘swinging sixties.’
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Born in the East End of London and after the teachers had worn themselves out caning me almost daily with the worst kind of stick, I was eventually expelled from school by the mid sixties, as the Beatles and the Stones held my attention far more than any stuffy ol’ text book. I was an unruly and rebellious teenager and every moment I could, I would escape from any kind of control, parental or otherwise; spending as much time as I could in the throbbing heart of the great city of London. Taking in the smells and sights that gave my skin those lovely goose bumps of excitement.
Looking back, it seems just like yesterday; Carnaby Street, the girls in see-through blouses perched on the back of Mick Jagger's open top Cadillac, cruising up and down the Kings Road or was it Ginger Baker? I’m not really sure now, as there were so many up and coming long haired, skinny legged, would-be singers around. All of us clamouring for the highest tree from where we could watch the great Hyde Park concerts, featuring Blind Faith, Stevie Winwood, Eric Clapton; and later there was Rod Stewart with me screaming in delight as the Who wrecked all their equipment as they screamed out their latest ‘tunes’; Ike and Tina Turner singing from the back of an E-type Jag that had been hung from the ceiling of a cellar nightclub off Oxford Street and The Beatle's music was everywhere.
Many of these now famous names were small time then, as it was everyone's beginning. Some beginnings led to fame, wealth and 'groupies' and some were already playing out their downfall. Me, well I was on my own road to destruction as I had already run away from home at 13 having spent the night in the West End Central Police Station, expelled from school by the time I was 14, pregnant by 15, a hideous illegal abortion in the backstreets of London by 16. So my view of the world was, shall we say, somewhat lopsided, which in my experience, travelling in the fast lane nearly always seems to give you.
During one of my ‘more calm periods’ I had even made a valiant attempt to settle down and became engaged to be married, took a regular job in the Daily Mirror when it was one of the most middle class and avidly read newspapers in England, went to college parttime and gained a ‘secretarial’ education. However, after a few years of work, study and more disappointments I decided it was time to change my life again. Three of my closest friends wanted to come with me when I decided to give everything up in London and move to North Devon. So the train tickets were bought and the date set; I was so excited packing my suitcase, which was stuffed with all my worldly goods. Unfortunately, unbeknown to me and to one another, each of my friends had bottled out. They all turned up at the station, suitcaseless to break the news to me and of course as it turned out, to each other. But I was unstoppable, even though my stomach was churning with disappointment, my face and chirpy “goodbye” gave away nothing as to what I was really feeling. It was their loss, not mine.
Not to say it was easy, as beginning a new life hundreds of miles from home, not knowing the place I was heading, nor knowing anyone at my new place of work, proved to be very difficult indeed. Even ringing my parents from the telephone box miles away in the next village on a half broken Bakerlite phone, became an almost insurmountable problem each week. But life goes on and after six months or so I met James, a good man and a Civil Engineer, this said our relationship was very rocky and we became known as the Liz Taylor and Richard Burton of Barnstaple .
Incredibly we stayed together and within what seemed like only moments it was my 21st and James hired the hotel in which I had previously worked as a waitress and we planned an extravaganza of a birthday bash. Just about the last thing I remember of the night was many, if not most, of the 400 revellers, at least 200 of which were uninvited, ended up in the hotel swimming pool, some clothed some not. What a night!
For the next couple of years we did well and eventually James and I decided to take off for a year and travel around Europe, however James did not trust his business partner and before we left James withdrew all the cash from the business account and rammed it into a suitcase in the back of our camper home. Of course it didn't take long for his partner to find out and surprise, surprise, he thought James had stolen it, although this was not his intention, which being was purely to keep it safe so his partner couldn't steal it or squander it whilst we were away, or so he said in court some time later. Unfortunately the partner informed the police and Interpol took to chasing us around Europe as we boarded trains, boats and planes, fortunately never catching up with us. At the time we were completely oblivious to the fact that we had been in a 9 month cat and mouse chase and completely stunned when we found out that my parents invited ‘the men in Interpol suits’ to come and take afternoon tea with them, when they came knocking at their front door; looking for their wayward daughter again.
A long drawn out court case ensued with neither one of us ending up in jail. So we celebrated with the most breathtaking wedding in the medieval Cornish church made famous by the TV sensation, Poldark. James had really surprised me that morning with a beautiful carriage and two handsome drivers who tried in vain to keep my long veil and dress from blowing up over my head!! My Father and I arrived slightly late though as the horses had been spooked by the incredible wind which whipped them up into a total frenzy.
By now we were working on renovating a medieval castle which dated back to 1085 and it was whilst showing a ghost hunting American around the insides of the turrets, I stood back in awe at the wooden ceiling beams all showing Roman numerals – boy was this place old!
Peace reigned ........... but not for long.
It had been after one of those incredible gut wrenching rows we had, when suddenly we were making up again, James had shouted ‘I’m going to make you so pregnant that you will never leave me again.’ Well he got the first part right; but I left soon after.
It didn’t take me too long to realise that I had to sort my 3 month ‘situation’ out and facing James with the problem and a queasy stomach was one of the worst days imaginable. He met me with a stony face that I had never seen on him before as he lashed “I want that baby, BUT I DON’T WANT YOU.”
With his hate filled words stabbing my heart and almost unable to see through the choking tears, I fled the county and straight into the cold, heartless waiting room with a non-descript hospital nurse telling me that ‘everything will be ok, everyone has abortions these days, there’s nothing to it.’ I was shaking with fear, everything was so cold, it seemed like my life’s systems were shutting down. I tried hard to be numb and oblivious to what was going on as if I wasn’t really in my body. How could this be happening? I couldn’t speak to a soul as once again I was in a place of solitude, not knowing hardly anyone.
Alone.
Life had been very reckless and on reaching 25, I found myself in the worst place possible. Inside my own head.
I tried hard to explain what was going on to so many people especially as I was now looking very sickly and skinny. Over and over again I would be searching for someone to explain ‘the nightmares' that came every night. Night after night. Relentless. I was desperate. I had even gone to the local pub on my own and met Steven, a man who half listened to my frightening story but then he came up with a brilliant idea as he thought he could remedy everything with a 14-day luxurious trip to the island of Tenerife, all expenses paid. "Great!" I felt like someone had thrown me a lifeline. Unfortunately, it was a bit too thin.
Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain – 20th July 1976
Where was I going? My mind was racing and it felt like my spindly legs couldn’t carry me to a safe place. In the heart of the Latin town there were many dull lights around me and loud music that had once, long ago excited and carried me through the tumultuous sixties. Hearing the deep thud of the drums spilling out of the various clubs I passed, tugging me in, like hidden stickiness of a black spider’s web; in for just a few brief minutes but I was soon running again from the noise and veiled confusion that now disturbed and terrorised me. But deep down I knew, that if people could see what was going on at the very core of me, they were the ones that needed to be afraid, very afraid.
Of course, that’s it! It wasn’t me that should run. It was everyone else. “I can embrace this fear.”
Everything had begun to change. I started to want the shadows of the night;
they were beginning to be more real to me now – they were creeping into my light
of day. But what were ‘they’?
‘They’ were moving me on. I started to feel the terrible anger building inside me, but where was the anger coming from? I had no real reason. Nothing that I had not ‘handled’ already! Or had I? The hopelessness of my whole situation seemed to draw me into a solitary place on the beach of this beautiful island. As I watched the sun rise, I had never felt so wretched; the very core of me was desolate, so close to death itself. Could death call me? So many questions. I only knew that no one else heard what was going on in my world.
Shouting as I crashed through into the hotel room, startling Steven awake “I want to leave this island right now, right this minute!” “What’s going on?” he stammered as he tried to focus his eyes. “It hasn’t worked! The nightmares have followed me here and I might as well be miserable in England as any place else.” I was running. Running out of places to run. To hide; I knew it, yet I couldn’t stop. “I want to go back to England. NOW.” That got his attention.
Steven’s eyes were starting to pop out of their sockets. “This holiday has cost me a fortune and now you just want to go back? OK, ok, I’ll find out about flights. Let’s just go and have some breakfast first.” But the food was all the same, nothing tasted good anymore and I had lost so much weight that even my bones seemed to have taken on a hollowness. People had once thought of me as good looking, with an effervescent character, but now at 25 I just felt grey - grey and filled with despair. And no one seemed to have any insight, any astuteness. Yet the spider’s blackness was still growing ever deeper.
I left Steven trying to sort out yet another mess I was making, although I felt no compassion as he had known from the start when I warned him before we left the UK “don’t expect anything out of me as I am empty.”
I started to wander aimlessly out into the pool area and just as I had done 50 times before, I scanned the area for someone ‘wise looking’ who may have some answers, something different to tell me, some insight. And there they were! Two elderly couples. It was easy walking up to them and interrupting their day with my grey, miserable presence. I had already lost all thoughts of embarrassment or shame of what people thought about me; my ‘blackness’ had taken care of that. “I have a serious problem that no-one seems to be able to help me with. Can I explain it to you as there must be an answer somewhere?” The ladies were immediately asking me to take a seat and encouraged me to talk freely. “I am so afraid to go to sleep as every night I am taken to the most horrible place imaginable. The stench of this place makes every part of my body sick and putrefying and there are forms of something that are punishing someone in the most terrible way.”
"If
total agony, fear, hopelessness and sickness was named a colour, it was this
blackness that I have found myself forced into each night just as I go to
sleep!! I feel myself suspended by what seems to be ‘nothing’ yet it is so
ugly, tangibly black, evil, sickening and the smell is so bad that my stomach is
wrenching and heaving in pain. Death and fear are all around me and I am
compelled to watch the terrible action below me Screams from someone fill my
head as if it will burst.
I can hear, “NO, NO, NO” and then the most sickening sounds of terrible curdling blood coming from his throat. It is my soon to be ex-husband James and his agony is felt throughout my body, in every fibre of my being. My senses are magnified; everything is raw. What were ‘they’ doing to him now; I always ask myself? I can see that he is hanging upside down this time, naked and stretched out between 2 invisible pillars and ‘they’ as always, ‘they’ are torturing him in the most hideous way. This time ‘they’ are pulling out his teeth and I can remember that before this it had been his fingernails and before that his flesh and before that…………..I find it difficult even to put into words as this all seems indescribable.” I look up briefly and ignore their looks of utter disbelief as I had seen it all before. “In this place of fear, James is always powerless to help himself, but in reality he is such a strong man in both his mind and body. Highly intelligent, articulate and handsome. No one told him what to do. But now, in this terrifying place ‘they’ were in total control. Who were ‘they’????” And why was I being taken to this unimaginable place each night and why was I in this grip of fear. It’s not just nightmares; it’s too real, too physical, my senses are so much more colossal in this horrific place. I feel everything from within.”
I glanced up at the 4 strangers faces and saw them pulling back even further from me, shock written on their faces but I had to keep explaining, searching for answers to ……..to what? I didn’t even know the questions!
So I just kept on going. “I have tried to see ‘they’ the torturers in my nightmares but my eyes blur every time I look their way even though my vision has always been excellent I couldn’t see ‘they’ but I knew the terrible stench, that was making me want to vomit all the time, was coming directly from them and the blackness that suspended me in frozen fear. I knew somehow that their form was so ugly and terrible; no words have entered my vocabulary to describe what I was seeing. I wanted to help James, but I was powerless. Just as my body and mind could take no more of the crushing terror, I was back, I was awake, I was in my fear soaked bed with my senses more disgustingly acute than ever. My mouth still full of the taste of ‘hideous black vomit.’ It would then take me at least an hour to get a grip of my trembling body but my mind always keeps hold of the terror.
I have in the past tried to explain everything to friends, family, doctor, anyone who would listen but everyone thinks I am just having nightmares and that it will pass or maybe I was going crazy. But as time has gone on, I know this is not going to stop; everywhere is agony.”
By now my tears were streaming as I peered slowly at the couple’s faces; it’s the usual shock and unbelief that I had seen on so many other people I had frightened with my story. “You must be having terrible dreams,” one of the ladies stammered, sounding as sympathetic as she could muster. “Maybe, but why do I go to this place every time I sleep, it’s been more than 4 months now and I’m so terrified. Each day seems worse than the first. Do you know what I can do to stop them? Have you heard about anyone else who has had this problem? Do you have any advice or help for me?” The wise old faces looked with pained expressions, mixed with their alarm as I had seen so many times before. They started to look embarrassed for me but I was past caring. I stood up, made my excuses and slowly shuffled away.
The rest of the day dragged by as all I could think about was – that which was drawing ever closer, was the night. Like some rabid dog chasing after me. It made no difference if I became totally drunk or stone cold sober, as soon as I fell asleep, I went to that terrible, gut-wrenching place. It didn’t matter where I was sleeping or with whom and sex was totally out of the question, because as soon as I closed my eyes………
Steven’s voice broke into my ugly thoughts, “Let’s go out for one last dinner and then we’ll get the flight home tomorrow afternoon.” He tried to sound enthusiastic but it was just wasted on me. 'OK' I said reluctant to even think about going out where there were other people. However the night didn’t end with a cardboard tasting dinner as afterwards Steven suggested a last drink on the way back to the hotel. I hadn’t drunk any alcohol that day as I knew that my black, angry, foul mood wouldn’t get any better if I fuelled it.
All that seemed to be open was a dimly lit nightclub and only once we were inside did I realise how terribly noisy the music was which made my anger start to heat up even more than usual; this time it went beyond boiling point. I glared at the DJ and thought of how I could kill him, just by looking his way. Strangely I felt slightly better! Why? The thought of killing made me feel vaguely happy! Was this the way to find my happiness? Someone had to die?
We made our way to the very back of the club but unfortunately there were so many stupid ugly coats and bags on the low bench seats; there was just nowhere for us to sit. Unfortunately, for them that is and with this thought I pushed the whole lot onto the grubby floor, sat down in their place and waited. I was now so full of a deadly cocktail of rage, hatred, murder and death and I wanted to vent it on someone, anyone. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the targets coming into view right this very moment. There were about 10 people and I knew I was going to hurt them tonight. All of them! I began to feel euphoric No sense of fear or agitation. Just pleasure that someone was going to be on the end of all my aggression. I knew now that death was the only way. I just wanted to kill – anyone, everyone. Or feel my own death. And for a few fleeting moments I was happy as I lost myself in these murderous thoughts.
“Hey! Where’s my jacket?” A stupid man with a loud voice jolted me back into reality but didn’t stop my horrendous intentions nor change my face of aggression and thoughts of death.
“On the …*//~# ... floor – is there a problem with that?” My language was so totally from the gutter and loud so that he and everyone around could hear me above the deafening music. I just wanted them to feel the fear. I wanted them all to feel as dreadful and vile as me. My ugly body started to fill up with an incredible, uncontrollable, spitting strength, he couldn’t fail to mistake what my intention was; how dangerous I was, how murderous; but did it stop him? “Oh not at all,” he said. “I’m just so glad you speak English.” That’s all I needed!! A smarmy, weedy Yank.
He didn’t stop there either. “I was told to go out and meet a very special person tonight and I know that is you.” He beamed a stunning smile, which made my flesh creep. “I was the odd one out you see,” he carried on explaining, happy and chirpy as could be, "I had been feeling quite sorry for myself, as I was the only one without a partner but I was told to get up and go with the group as I was going to meet you and I have something incredible to tell you.”
What a stupid line! I had never heard anything so dumb in all my life. I wanted to rip his face off and wipe the already dirty, stinking floor with his happiness. I wanted him to feel as wretched as me! “You sound like a…*//~# ... idiot to me and yes I speak English, not ..*//~# .. American.” I could kill this creep just with my rotting tongue.
“Oh. This is great. I’m so glad to meet you, my name is Clay. Are you from London, I’m from……”
“Shut the …*//~# …up!! You’re giving my ears GBH .” My mouth by then was so close to his head because of the deafening noise of the music, I could have ripped his ear from his head! And deep inside, it felt good. I wanted his pain. I wanted murder……
“Oh, I can hear that you need some real love in your life that’s why God told me to come talk with you and tell you about God’s love through Jesus His Son.”
Well that did it! “Love, love!? What’s that? Don’t give me that rubbish. I don’t believe in God and love is for the damned.” He was now really making me explode with furry. But my head wouldn’t think straight. Didn’t Jesus have something to do with Christmas? Didn’t he have a brother called santa claus? What was he talking about?
Clay just wouldn’t stop! It was almost like my aggression and foul mouth was making him stronger. I just wanted him dead. Yet this weedy man was growing in ....... in what!! Growing in what seemed like colossal strength before my eyes. I truly felt insane!
“What you need to do is ask Jesus the Saviour of the whole world, into your life. He is the only one who gives real love, eternal life and liberty and it’s a free gift. You only have to ask and believe. We need to pray, right now!”
I struggled within my mind, against him.......“Pray? I have never prayed in my life.” But Clay had taken on a stature I had never seen in a man before; he just kept getting stronger and more powerful. “STOP!" he commanded. Just close your eyes and say something after me”. And with this he grabbed my hands with such force it took my breath away. At first I tried to pull free, but his grip was like a vice and then a shock hit me full on. The music was gone! Every noise had disappeared. We were wrapped in some kind of invisible bubble. I could hear his voice crystal clear. This can’t be happening! What is happening??!!! Clay wouldn’t be stopped. His control was complete. “Say it, right now – “Jesus” and as I began, huge tears fell down my face, but why was I crying??….I didn’t understand anything with my mind – everything was coming from within. My whole body seemed to be screaming - Truth. Truth. TRUTH.
I then heard myself - “Please let me start again. Forgive me for everything I have done wrong. Help me to change. I ask You for a new life. In Jesus Name I pray.” As the name of JESUS was formed on my tongue – hell broke loose. Literally.
Screaming evilness and sick blackness vehemently wrenched away from the top of my spine – something so horrific had left me with terrible black force and then immediately a rush of a million volts of energy and shards of light and… and … everything fantastic yet indescribable surged through every cell of my being. It was immense! Charged with pure ……. everything. Totally, totally awesome! I was bursting with the most incredible light, colour, radiance, over brimming with happiness and strength. For the first time in my life – I was alive!!!!
I just kept saying His Name ‘Jesus, Jesus, Jesus’ – I just wanted to stay in this moment and go on and on in The Light even though nothing was being understood by my mind, only the very core of me knew and accepted.
Something wonderful had happened and everyone around me could see it. I had to get out of my seat really quick, because I thought I was going to fly through the ceiling. I could feel my body and mind so incredibly more alive than humanly possible. Clay hung on to me as he knew something phenomenal was happening and his crowd of friends started to gather round. I know I was babbling by then but they all seemed to fully understand. I kept telling them over and over again. “It was Jesus. It was Jesus.” I couldn’t explain anything with my puny intelligence. Words were too small.
We all made a rapid exit from the club as we were making such a commotion. Spilling out into the street, I kept touching and talking to everyone because everything seemed so special, so brand new, so totally different, as if I was seeing everything for the very first time but with new awareness. I needed to look at my feet, as I felt as if I was walking through spongy clouds and everything seemed so incredibly light yet more alive than I had ever known life before. Words are just inadequate.
Clay’s group managed to get at least some communication in edgeways and they even showed me some sentences from a small antique book one of them carried. None of it seemed to make sense to my head as it was all in very old English but deep inside, into the very depths of me, everything again resonated with ‘Truth’. Clay and his friends walked us back to our hotel and said they would be back in the morning to explain more. It took us ages to say our ‘goodbyes’ and Steven looked exhausted. I could see that he hadn’t experienced anything like the journey I had just taken. He explained that he had looked into these things before but there wasn’t anything in it for him. I wish he had. I wanted the whole world to feel as incredible as I did. I just didn't want this feeling to end.
As we went through the hotel lobby my legs still felt like floating; literally my feet didn’t feel the earth like I remembered it and then suddenly, there in front of us, were the 2 elderly couples I had met that day by the poolside. They had seen me in such a bad suicidal way just hours before; I felt sure that they would like to share in my exciting news. I rushed up to them, radiating my news so everyone could hear, so very excited and told them everything that had happened with my great encounter, that Jesus had come into my life and I was now born into the Kingdom of God and they could do this too because Jesus is the Messiah, Saviour of the World, Son of the Living God and on and on and on I went. Well! They stopped me dead in my tracks. They turned on me with such disgust written on their faces and with one explosive voice they told me how stupid I was and that Jesus was only a man who would definitely not be the Saviour of anything and I was a total imbecile to ask a nobody into my life! Their anger, which bordered on rage, was so unexpected! They had been so pleasant at the poolside, but now they were like, well, crazed! But there was absolutely nothing anybody could do that could take away my happiness, my sense of belonging; of being really loved for the very first time.
Steven quickly ushered me into the elevator saying, “You can’t give those Jews your Jesus.” Obviously Steven knew something I didn’t.
As my head hit the pillow, my world was finally at peace.
Never again was I to experience the terrors of the blackness.
My healing was beginning; healing of my mind, body and soul from the guilt of double murder because of my second abortion.
And there’s more………………………………later.