Here’s a letter I sent to a psychological clinic. Please excuse my writing, Whites can’t write and have been dumbed down. (my autobiography, which I edited 43 times, 1,243 pages, is on the Internet.)
https://archive.org/search?query=I%27m+Fearlessly+White+Nowak
My PhD college writing teacher said he was an English Grammar teacher but the schools shut down the course over a quarter century ago. Our (White) people can’t read or write but use emoji’s like Egyptian hieroglyphics, 5,250 years ago. Would you agree that Jews and Jewesses dumbed our Whites down, even our innocent Christians?
Hello,
- To begin.
- I need to cancel my Zoom appointment. I’m having difficulty with the name “Cohen.” It’s Jewish.
- I mentioned to the intake worker that I was raped by a psychiatrist in 1968. However, since the clinic’s name is Jewish, I was afraid to tell her that the rapist was Jewish, Dr. Jaimie Rejtman. It’s not good for me to add to my fears. When my self-book publisher told me I had to get his permission, he said to contact him about the rape or they won’t publish. All book publishing is Jewish even news since Jewish Adolf Ochs (not White Christian Hitler) stole the New York Times in 1896. When I contacted Dr. Rejtman but didn’t think he’d remember me so many years ago he replied, “My lawyer said you can write anything you want. You can’t hurt me, I’m retired!”
- I ran out of the outpatient clinic in Chicago and didn’t return. Until . . . I thought I was pregnant with his baby. At that time, no one could talk about rape. Yet, I mustered the courage and made an appointment. When I arrived, I didn’t sit down, since that’s how he raped me. When I told him, his face changed, and it was a spooky expression.
- He stated, “If you tell anyone, I’ll have you put into an insane asylum for life. I have a Jewish wife and children and this would ruin my new career!”
- No compassion for me coming from a Catholic Christian, a starving family of 12.
- I ran out and bussed back to South Chicago, but never told a soul.
- However, it was a false pregnancy from nerves and fear. My period came back, and I called and told him.
- He said that he was being cured and was in psychoanalysis. He loved me and would have married me if I were single. It would never happen again.
- I married a disabled veteran who was denied disability by a jewish man, according to the 1968 letter. I saved his life – he saved mine. It was truly a Romeo and Juliet suicide story, since I had three suicide attempts, and my deceased veteran died either by suicide or murder.
- In 1977, I returned to work at a Jewish company where I had started my career at the beginning of my marriage. The boss’ name was Norm Dolan. He said he’d mentor me to become an accountant. But then he took me into the accounting room, under the assumption he would teach me also to be an accountant.
- However, he asked strange questions about my married life. If I were happy? Did I have enough sex? I was flabbergasted, but I had taken a 35-year vow of silence in a religious context.
- He drove me to the downtown Chicago bank to deposit the Jewish-owned Production Tool where we worked. After he showed me how to make the deposit, he became strange again. He said he was having a nervous breakdown and needed to get a motel room, right next to the bank. He couldn’t drive home.
- I was sorry for him as he guided me into the bedroom. He asked personal questions, “Is your husband giving you sex?” He said his Jewish wife told him that now that she had his two children for his money and estate, he must find a (White Christian) or Shiksa as we’re called even on TV comedies.
- I don’t know if he drugged me, but he convinced me he wanted to marry me.
- He said my veteran husband was “no good,” since he came back with problems, but he escaped the war’s problems.
- People don’t have nervous breakdowns; they are driven to them.
- I had to quit working there. I couldn’t tell my husband, already overloaded as a war hero whose ancestry went back to the first ship to colonize Christian America, the “Mayflower.”
- Then, my Vietnam Veteran war hero, one of one hundred Veterans who shed their blood for our country, was having a hard time.
- I then went back to the original repented, Jewish Chicago psychiatrist, whose office was 666 N. Michigan. He again confirmed he was healed and nothing would happen. I believed and trusted him.
- After a few appointments, Jamie Rejtman, came around the desk to where I sat. He then proceeded to coach me to stand up and started to kiss me, and dragged me to the black leather couch.
- Since I loved my White Vietnam Veteran and our little son, Michael Jr., I ran out of the office. Yet, it was my husband’s work insurance that paid for the attempted seduction.
- But on the way out of the office, I went to get my coat off the rack. Dr. Rejtman was smiling and waiting at the door.
- He said, “Oh, I wasn’t going to do anything. I missed you. It won’t happen again. I’m the head of Ravenwood Hospital.”
- He extended a little White piece of paper and said smiling, “There’s a new prescription for healing depression. Here it is, it will help you be cured.”
- I grabbed it and ran out the door.
- I didn’t go home but to the walk-in TriCity Mental Health Clinic in a Chicago South Suburb.
- I didn’t tell the Chinese female doctor what had happened. Fear, terror, alone. I merely asked, “Do you think I should take these prescribed pills?” Her eyes widened, and she said they were dangerous. “Where did you get this? You shouldn’t have this?”
I hold no grudges or hate, but justice at not carrying this burden by myself any longer.
Please cancel the appointment.