Category Archives: In the beginning

Still Quiet

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About nine years ago already was my first flashback.  It only consisted of two hands and arms of a boy wrestling with me to hold me down.  This flashback was triggered by my husband being affectionate with me.   I could not see anything other than two hands and forearms.  My eyes were open, but I could not see my husband.  I couldn’t see anything other than these two half arms pinning me down – or trying to.  I was moaning while my husband held me but I was reliving childhood, fighting a boy.  It took my husband a few times of asking “What’s going on?” while he was holding me before I could get a good grip on reality.

Our third child was only a baby at the time and we were living with my parents.  Needless to say life was stressful.  My initial reaction was to finally think I was actually abused at some point during childhood – but probably only one time and that’s why I had forgotten it.  Four years later I had my next flash back involving a satanic ritual where some man was wearing an animal head with horns.  Between my first and second flashback I absolutely POUNDED my brain for memories!  And, yeah, I did get quite a few memories, but what I recalled back then did not paint the picture which is before me presently.  The memories I retrieved were choppy and didn’t make sense.  They didn’t fit together.  In fact the truth was still being furiously protected.  I was more willing to believe a new lie, just to protect myself from the truth.

One good thing about the various ideas I had about my past was that even though I may not have been completely accurate to begin with – the exploration helped me to become capable of handling the truth.  Much of what I retrieved initially was actually correct, but some of it was not.  Now that I can see more of the whole picture – I am ok with having been wrong at times.

It is knowing that I am not perfect and can interpret things incorrectly at times that helped me to keep all of this crap to myself for so darn long!  From the very beginning my goal was to keep the commandments.  One in particular I have done my best to keep is to not bare false witness.  Knowing there was no substantial proof to bring forward allowing me to say, “See… See it now!  My uncle did this!!” all I could do was keep it inside.  I never went up to anybody accusing them of abuse.  But, you know what, I never had to.  Asking questions to try and figure out if any of this was worth pursuing was enough to break the family apart.

That was all I needed to move forward, at least within myself.  As long as I have no proof or witnesses to support my lonely word I can not go to my family.  This is just me, other people and families are in different positions.  My family is not in danger by my keeping this to myself.  But, the danger of divulging what I discovered is much much more severe.  Maybe that is just the programming though.  Either way most people in my family wouldn’t believe any of this and if anybody did it would cause so much strife.  I have told who I needed to tell what I needed to tell.

It is hard to keep this to myself – to be so anonymous.  So many times the intense compulsion to open up to my brothers or anybody else in my family nearly won out over sense.

So many times the burden of this trial made me cry out to just reprogram me – let me forget what I remember!!  But, I have hope and faith that one day I will be able to open up to my family.  At that point the burden, the cross may seem to be put down for a moment and transformed into a new burden.

The point is, patience has served very useful so far.  If I had told people years ago they would have only heard my immediate interpretation of these memories which really was a very narrow scope.  I understand now that there is SOOOO much more going on.  The most important understanding of the past didn’t come until after I was accepting of the few shocking memories that came back.  Looking back at the journey so far I would have stopped a long time ago had my husband not supported me in healing.  If one or two people even mentioned disbelief before I was strong enough psychologically to defend what I know now is true it would have made me crumble and give up.

So keep praying, put one foot in front of the other every day – and before you know it there is a lot of healing behind you.

—Dory

Dorothy is home

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I always liked “The Wizard of Oz” with Judy Garland.

And so it was as a with me as well.  I remember my uncle commenting that I must have had some very strange dreams the night before.  The truth was, I didn’t remember a thing.  I had no dreams, no nightmares, no idea whatsoever that anything had happened in the middle of the night.  In fact, waking up in the morning, I thought it was morning – but the truth was I had no concept of time yet and did not realize I slept past lunch time.  That meant I would remain hungry until my parents came to pick us up – even then, it would depend on whether or not we missed dinner as well.  I just remember being so hungry.  My brothers were able to eat though.  Eventually I became protective of my food.  Which then became something my brothers made fun of me for.  They wouldn’t be able to understand why I felt that way about food.  They didn’t go through a single bit of what I did.  They were not chosen.  How fortunate for them!

What I did remember was laying down in bed at my aunt and uncle’s house and going to sleep just about the same time my brothers did in some other part of the house.  Then, my uncle’s CB radio would play the firehouse tones in dissonant combinations followed by someone on the other end of the radio calling out odd numbers and letters.  That combination, although I have been able to do a search on the internet and have found numerous firehouse tones, I have not been able to find the same combination.  Why would I want to anyway?  Maybe just to see what would happen, but I kind of think I was searching for the feeling I had when I heard those tones as a child.  To me, I heard safety and complete relaxation in those tones.  Now, I understand that is all a part of the programming – for me – the core – to feel relaxed and safe while the tones and strange combinations of numbers and letters lulled me to sleep and allowed the call sign for my alter to wake and take over.

Something else that made me feel safe in that bed was a koala bear my uncle had.  This was a hard stuffed animal with leather claws.  My aunt told me that one night (it sounds like) I attacked my uncle with that koala bear and used those claws to scratch him like crazy.  That was the last night I had anything in bed with me for comfort, or protection!  I don’t even remember doing that, but I do remember my aunt (which happens to be my mom’s twin sister) telling me that it happened.

Eventually, those tones wound up recorded and playable by my friends who just so happened to have connections to this group of evil people.  I had one good friend who knew the truth and it scared her.  I scared her.  It destroyed her.  She wound up taking a path of drugs and having sex for drugs.  Things were difficult for her for a while and I blame myself – and the devil too.  I remember she and i had a best friend who i believe now became my handler.  I will refer to him as #1 for now.  He tried to get me to recall the tones on my own and bring out my alter.  I am not sure if it worked or not.  On another occasion my best girl friend and I were shopping when a cop walked up next to us and on his walkee those tones began to play.  My good friend pulled me away when she heard those tones play.  I had begun to feel happy, relaxed, and safe at the start of those tones.

On another occasion, I was babysitting my uncle’s kids.  I fell asleep before he came back home.  He had trouble waking me up.  When I did get up, he appologized for not turning off the cb radio.     ???????

You see, I need to review these events in my mind over and over again because the residual programming always wants to rewrite what I believe.  So, it is vital that I grab hold of the things I do have that I can not argue with in order to show myself and my others inside, “see, it is true and we do need to move forward in healing.”

I am not sure I could ever trust a psychologist with any of this information.  I do see somebody for anxiety and attention deficit disorder which helps manage many of the symptoms of my D.I.D.  I thank God I do have my husband.  My husband has certain gifts which make him extremely empathetic – a very useful gift since I am usually unaware of many emotions.  He will pick up on what I am feeling somewhere inside and it helps all of us.

Methodical Destruction

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Hypnosis at home, do I really get hypnotized?  I am not sure if I can be truly hypnotized because of how my programming was set up. I was set up to go into a trance when ever the trigger was used.  I know in general of one trigger, although I am unable to remember the full trigger as it was used.  I know there were multiple triggers so that my alters could be brought out with or without access to a cb radio or cd/tape player.  I believe the mind control was used to direct me towards obedience and actions relating mostly to sex, satanic rituals, or torture/pain.  This ability they created (so to speak) caused me to be very focused in one direction based on the method they used to suppress me and bring out the alter of choice.  An alter personality either focused on satanic rituals, or focused on sex – two very different yet very entwined mind states since they both can rely on the other.  I still do not have my entire memory back relating to how the programming was done, however I know it was more than being strapped onto a table and being over stimulated with strobe lights combined with various sounds and smells and feelings.  A big part of the programming relied on the satanists to reinforce what the government wanted from me.  I am not sure if the gov’t had a specific purpose for training my split(s) a certain direction or if they were simply experimenting on certain groups of kids with various familial backgrounds and personalities.  I do know though that a group of adults was needed for some of the programming in order to reinforce and continue the destruction of my identity.

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The broken heart in pieces

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In a sense, the division of my personality into separate parts is more like the broken pieces of my heart. Left to heal on their own, there has been no shortage of scar tissue. This scar tissue, so to speak, became more like walls that separated each part. Each broken piece of my heart became self sufficient on its own. Some parts had been able to communicate with each other. My piece of the heart, however, had no communication or knowledge of any other bits. Maybe my heart was smaller or less capable than the hearts of others, but it was my heart and I would make the best of it. Read the rest of this entry

Seeking my interior castle through hypnosis

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So, finally, like Alice before falling into wonderland, I saw the rabbit hole and dove in.  Falling down a rabbit hole is not always quick.  You move as fast or as slow as your mind allows.  My husband researched hypnosis and we gave it a shot.  I have a Ton of trust in my husband!  Anyway, it really didn’t work at first.  It took a while to make that leap of faith and allow my mind to fall into my husbands hands.  I was down-right resistant to hypnosis.  We tried to make it work for weeks, but gave up.  Then somehow I gathered up the courage to let it all go and give it another shot.

At first my interior home was a disheveled shack.  I went inside and looked for memories.  The first memories to surface were most likely necessary in order for subsequent memories to build upon.  My husband was very careful not to say anything that could give a hypnotic suggestion or color the manner the memories came up.  Each memory provided a certain piece to my inner memory matrix.  Each piece I grab helps bring another piece into reach.

For a long time (and still at times) I had intrusive images that were very disturbing flash into my head.  While I became pretty good at suppressing them, it really wore me out if any image was particularly stubborn.  Other times there was a memory carousel of sorts – flashes of various images showing up.  My husband helped me to feel comfortable addressing these things instead of merely shoving them off.  He helped me to stop the memory carousel from turning, go back to any image I wanted, grab it, take it down and really look at it.

The heart within knows the truth.

Some images were metaphorical in nature, and not to be taken literally while others were exact memories that I could take down and place back within the memory matrix.  For single intrusive images I learned to practice courage while being afraid of what my mind was trying to tell me.  It’s not easy.

This was invaluable in being able to move forward in healing from the hidden past.

As time wore on and I became more comfortable using hypnosis we discovered there was actually a castle – an interior castle.  This castle was fortified with a weak little fence, and a whole bunch of landmines!  The mines were representative of the various triggers that were set in place through psychological/mental programming.  These mines all were set to go off if I had ever discovered a memory or even thought of the possibility that I lived a double life.  There were hundreds of mines set up to go off when triggered.  When triggered, the mine would blow, leaving me in the real world spinning into an out of control mess.  Other times, just being chaotic and hopeless wasn’t enough – I was suicidal.

My mind had been set up to resort to anything in order to keep my core from knowing the truth.

So, during hypnosis I had to find all the mines and dis-arm each and every one.  This took weeks to finish because there were so many!  Usually each mine was set to trigger another mine as well, so I had to really explore the castle grounds for hidden wires. Each mine was also wired to the castle.  I had to disconnect the mines to the castle as well.  Sometimes, a landmine was stubborn and popped back up.  When this happened I had to carefully disarm the mine in my brain and look deeper.  Usually there was something keeping it from going away for good.  Eventually I gave myself a hose with holy water to stop the mines from doing any evil – hey, when you are working in your head all you need is to believe!

My husband and I worked through hypnosis about 5 nights a week methodically.  He is an analyst and has a passion for learning.  He has no problem reading volumes of books or on the internet.  Anyway, because of the love and trust that is already there for my husband that meant I did not have to take months getting comfortable with some therapist I do not know.  We could also work through therapy at our own pace.  Plus, I can call him any time.  Once I became comfortable letting him into my head hypnotically we were able to progress  pretty quickly.  There were times we had to take a month off or so because I needed time to process what was going on inside of my selves, but then we would pick back up again.

Once the landmines were all dealt with and disposed of it was time to enter the castle.  Upon entering, I discovered demons in every room – which meant spiritual and psychological battle.  You see, I believe that we do battle in this world on two levels.  We do battle temporally, with what and who we see, how we think, what we say and do.  We also do battle morally or spiritually.  That is when we face temptation to do something flat out wrong, or even just less good for us personally.  I also believe that when a person lives with or is battling (use whatever phrase suits you best) a mental illness, I believe the devil uses that to his best advantage in order to prevent us from leaning on God, or to distract us, but always there is a much bigger picture that the devil is focused on painting or achieving – including doing his best to keep us from going to heaven.

So out came the sacramentals in my mind.  I equipped myself with a back-pack that had a hose for holy water and a bag of St Benedict medals.  I used various prayers or exorcisms to rid my mind of as much attachment or personal calling there could be to the demons.  This all probably sounds strange – even to catholics, but after cleaning out the castle I did feel more peace.

My God, make us to be of one mind in the Truth and of one heart in charity

-St. Pius X

Back to the beginning…

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Discovering something severe did occur in my childhood was not easy to accept – even though I had enough reason to accept it.  Anything short of the truth simply would not be enough.  I had to know what really happened and if I was barking up the wrong tree.  I needed validation.  Walking this path without proof has been an excellent exercise in practicing faith and hope in prayer and real life, let me tell ya!  It means leaning on God and believing He is not only listening to your prayers, but guiding you from within as well.

Still, my personal need for validation overwhelmed me and I gave in to it.  About 8 months after talking to a priest, I talked again to my aunt.  I asked her more about the old babysitter, she gave me more information on them.  I brought up the flashbacks I had (I expressed these in previous posts).  That was when her anxiety became visible.  She shifted her stance, rolled her eyes so hard her head went along too.

I did my best to allow her to put the blame on me.  I told her these could be false memories, that I am just trying to figure out what happened.  She went back to the old couple who babysat my brothers and I.  I had even brought up my uncle when talking about the memories that came up, but she did not bother once trying to defend anyone.

My aunt was already mad at my mom (her twin) for wanting to find the daughter my aunt had given up for adoption (this girl one of my alters is named for so my aunt could play mom to me/her).  When this recent development came up, my aunt decided to give up any relationship with my mom.  How do you do that to your own twin sister?  How do you betray your own family so much that you allow your own niece to be used in cult practices?? I don’t understand – but I do know that I will be required to forgive those that hurt me!  Argh – anyway…

I did what I could to mend my mom’s relationship with her twin.  I sent a letter giving my aunt every opportunity to say “none of this is true, you are wrong,” but she wouldn’t do it.  My mom had asked her sister if it was possible my uncle may have abused me, could anything have happened – but my aunt refused to answer that question.  She only acted offended, yet refused to say that her husband never abused me.  She wouldn’t even lie.  There were so many times I wished somebody would tell me nothing ever happened.  Then I could go on believing the lies I had been fed.

My dad heard by this point that I thought I may have been abused as a child.  His reaction was mixed,  half denial, half shock.  I haven’t brought it up again with my parents.  This was a couple years ago.

This event pretty much ended the preliminary searching and questioning my view of reality.  This experience helped me to see there is in fact more to my life than I or anyone else has been willing to admit.  Nobody could tell me the truth, and that meant I had to go deep within my self in order to unlock the memories already there, just hidden.

A couple months later my husband and I began our own therapy.  Honestly, I believe this works out best for us. I had been to several therapists in the past, none of whom were any help.  I saw a psychiatrist who only diagnosed me with ADHD.

I had NO idea how well my husband and I matched up when we got married.  God really did have a plan for us.  My husband has a very unique life history which combined with his God-given nature has made him the best man for the job!  It is like God guided our lives (given how human free will has impacted us in tremendous negative ways it astounds me that God somehow did this without going against free will) in such a way that everything the devil did, God was able to out-do!  Which, makes sense – God is all-powerful omnipotent – it just puts me in awe when I think about the semi-big picture.  Even through all the pain thrust at me as a child, even though it seemed like the devil may win because numerous people around me knowingly rejected God, somehow – I have a lot to be thankful for!

Even though the truth hurts, it does set you free.  Even though I suffer low lows along with nice level times – somehow – even when I fall, God is right there waiting and offering me a hand up (even when I’m too hurt to believe it).

3 Memories, Ch. 2

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Along with the memories which made some sense to me that I could actually place within some kind of sense of my own reality were other memories that made no sense and would not fit easily within the chronology of my life.  These memories fell into two categories:  Science or Mind Control, Rituals and Ritual Abuse.

***These may be triggering for other people with DID***

 

#1          This took place in the mid 1980’s.            I remember laying in the dark, strapped down to a cold table in a cold dark room.  Then I would see a man – not very tall, probably in his 60’s, medium length salt and pepper hair.  He wore glasses and a lab coat.  Leather straps prevented me from turning my head.  I could not move.  I remember him leaning in, staring at me like I was some rat he was experimenting on. (Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage, thank you Smashing Pumpkins)  There were strobe lights flashing, they just kept flashing – and the lights would change speed on occasion.  All I could see was the bright white flashes filling this makeshift lab.  Then the flashes would turn to red – that was my attempt to close my eyes and avoid the visual over-stimulation.   Eventually (this type of thing happened many times) I had started seeing things after the lights were used – actually, I saw demons.  That monster scarred me so thoroughly, I screamed so loud – that was when the doctor leaned in, when I was the most vulnerable and frightened, “you are not who you think you are, you do not live with your parents…”  He provided the framework to split my personality.  He, and my uncle, fully intended to give me a split personality.

#2          Under the other category, the first images to pop up consisted of men carrying torches while walking to a certain place.   It seemed pretty “Frankenstein” like.  As time went on, I have actually recovered more of the memories pertaining to ritual abuse, than the splitting of my personality.

It was very difficult to discern the truth.  Were these things coming from the devil just to torment me?  Was this coming from my own imagination as a way to explain certain difficulties I’ve had through life?  I had prayed and worked for so long, but it wasn’t enough.  I decided to talk to the parish priest.

He was honest and said he didn’t know what to say!  He asked my permission to go to his superior about our conversation, and I certainly gave him the permission.  Later on, he got back to me with a deliverance statement which his superior obtained from an exorcist.  This was not an exorcism, but a way to curb the effects of the devil and open the path for God’s help.  I don’t have the time right now, but will create a page with this statement of deliverance on it.  I made this deliverance every day and trusted as hard as possible – I prayed that God would help me to know the truth about my life.  God is Truth, right?  There can be only one truth, just like there can be only one truth about my life – and God knows it, I just need the courage and strength to accept the truth!

After a couple months came the next flashback.  This one, like my first one, was real – I was re-experiencing this memory.  Even though I was re-experiencing a memory, I still had a couple blank spots, but, there was a lot more information given this time!

#3          My uncle brought me outside.  He lived in an old house on about an acre of land.  There was a group of men standing outside waiting for us.  My uncle had a very serious look on his face.

This seemed to be some sort of initiation involving being covered with spiders, and rape by a person wearing an animal head.  I am sorry if that is too much for anyone reading…

When it was over we walked inside.  My aunt was inside the kitchen, wearing her robe.  Her hair was pulled back.  She was crying, asking what was going on.  My uncle put me to bed and said he was going to “take care of” my aunt.  I didn’t see her the next day.

As horrible as it is to finally remember these things, it also feels really good to know more and more pieces of the truth.

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I’m Still Swimming…

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At this point in the beginning of my awakening, I had no real validation except for my mom telling me it was possible somebody had abused me and the single yet extremely short flashback containing nearly no information.  My mom has a twin sister – I will just refer to her as my aunt, and her husband will be the uncle I talk about in future posts.  If ever I do give names, they will be made up names.

Anyway, I had gone to my aunt for information.  You see, all of the babysitters my parents used were referred to them by my aunt and uncle.  I knew that my uncle knew them for a long time.  My aunt had heard of some scandal in the family of the elderly couple who babysat my brothers and I, although she claims she didn’t know what that was.  She said whatever it was had been enough for the other family friends to warn her against having her own kids watched by their family.  She would neither confirm nor deny any possibility of abuse or mistreatment.  She did however confirm the existence of the old man, previously I had been told he did not exist.  It seemed that whenever I searched for validation or some reason to keep pursuing my questions, I didn’t get it.  The problem is that I didn’t get anything at all to lead me to disprove any of the crazy memories or images either!

I had talked to my brothers.  Bro #3 doesn’t remember anything, although he has issues of his own.  Bro #2 informed me that we did not spend only 2 weeks at the old couples house – we spent 2 SUMMERS there!  Bro #1 said outright that he doesn’t remember what happened there – he knows he blocked it and has no intention of remembering.  So, this is like, evidence without having any evidence of sorts.  It is enough to drive me crazy.  Nobody could simply say – “you were never abused”  or  “nothing ever happened.”  I desperately wanted somebody to reinforce the lies I had believed my whole life.

My life felt more and more like Neo from The Matrix (1999).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQ1_IbFFbzA

That is the scene that expresses the beginning – my introduction into the life of DID/mind control.

It is not easy to accept that I have not been in control of my own life.  All it took was a simple phone call containing odd dissonant tones and code phrases to bring out the desired personality.  I only remember an introduction to the tones that were used.  I was told (which may be the truth) that every firehouse has a different series of tones they use in order to alert the firemen when a call came in who needed to go and what the call was about.  When I was a child, hearing the tones play over my uncles cb radio – well, I felt such peace and safety.  You see, my uncle was a fireman.  He is now the fire chief.  His firehouse is a family.  Since more memories surfaced, I know now he is a satanist.  He and the other families in the cult are firemen of course, but also policemen, doctors, lawyers, judges, scientists, and certainly government officials of various positions.  So, I am very paranoid.

I want to keep talking, but am getting dizzy.

There are so many things I kept from my teenage/college years.  All of it I see now has clues to the truth.  Take my obsession with doodling spirals.  I learned that is a pagan symbol.  Or the eight pointed star – also used in paganism.  However, it is also used in the government, and in Christianity.  Whatever the intent was for allowing me to “follow the star,” didn’t work because I thought of the 3 Magi/3 Wise Men/3 Kings of the Bible.  They were pagan astronomers who had learned of the star through generations of oral tradition and the science of their time.  They did not know who they were seeking, except that He was great – possibly God or a King.  They were pagans who sought God, and eventually converted.  Throughout my 20’s the Christmas Star became my own personal navigational symbol.  And, like some Christmas cards say,

“Wise Men Still Seek Him”

Nothing more than the thoughts and feelings of a woman who thinks too much and feels too much (August 1999)

Nothing more than the thoughts and feelings of a woman who thinks too much and feels too much (August 1999)

Whenever I feel triggered – I go back to thinking about God, and you know, I become safe again.  “The Lord is my refuge”

Chapter 1, Continued…

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It is good to have the internet again!  After over two months away – I am finally able to continue what I began.  The date I signed up with WordPress was September 19 which was the feast of Our Lady of La Salette.  Here are a couple sites which give information on Our Lady of La Salette:

http://www.catholictradition.org/Mary/salette.htm

http://www.lasalette.org/

I am devoted to Our Lady under this title “Our Lady of La Salette, Reconciler of Sinners.”  It is fitting that today, the feast of the Immaculate Conception we have internet access back.  Thank You, Blessed Virgin Mary!

To add to my previous post “Growing Up Me, Chapter 1” I would like to point out how utterly shocking it has been to come to grips with the truth.  There is really no clear way that I can come up with to express what it is like to think your life is one way, and then to realize there is a whole lot more than you know!  I mean, I really thought I knew what was going on.  I really believed I was with certain friends all the time.  I really believed I was home playing solitaire on my computer if I was not with those friends.  I believed my aunt and uncle were good people who really helped our family!  I believed I was a virgin until a certain age.  I really believed I was a normal shy girl who never suffered abuse!   Anyway, there is so much to express and nobody to express it to safely.  I do not want the people who did this to me to know that I know. Before getting to some of the more interesting stuff, I must express the process that brought me here.

Clues within married life.

During our first year of marriage, my husband and I talked about some memories I had which were incomplete.  I asked my mom if it was at all possible that I could have been abused, and she said yes, that it was possible because a babysitter my parents used was rumored to have abused boys in the neighborhood.  When my mom heard that she stopped using that babysitter.  That was a bit of validation, but without the missing puzzle pieces I couldn’t very well fix/heal/move on.

My husband and I have also had trouble with our intimate life.  This was the initial motivator for figuring all this out.  Whenever we were intimate, my husband would pick up intense anger and hatred for the act and towards him.  Needless to say, that made things very hard on him.  To begin with, I had no clue so much of my own self was hiding from me.  So, naturally, I told him that he was crazy, acting nuts, I love him, I enjoy our intimacy and so on.  But, that did not change anything.  He tried to ignore what he felt in his gut – but it persisted.

Eventually, I was left with one option – to ask myself the question,

“What if he’s right?”  And “If he is right, HOW could that be?”

Answering those questions honestly has been the hardest thing so far that I have done.

Another step…

We tried talking about what I remembered for several years.  We didn’t get very far.  In fact, I often times resorted back to telling my husband how crazy he is for thinking that I can’t stand to be intimate with him.  Oh, I also talked to several different counselors since I was about 20.  Each one of them directed me away from the ultimate truth.

Things came to a head as my dad recovered from back surgery.  The images in my mind were intrusive, disgusting, and becoming harder to fight.  I understand now what caused some of that was the internal conflict between myself and my alters.  I wanted to be very helpful – my dad was nearly paralyzed and it is a miracle he wasn’t.  He needed help, and I really wanted to be there for him, but the pieces inside would not allow it.  My alters couldn’t trust anyone, and certainly couldn’t do consistent acts of charity.  I didn’t understand any of it and that caused much strife.

My dad noticed something was bothering me, and so one Sunday at church he lead me to a statue of St. Padre Pio.  “Padre Pio is wonderful and always helps me,” he said.  I lit a candle and in my mind prayed for HELP!”

That very night I had the first flashback.

The memory was short and limited.  All I saw were a boy’s arms over me – he was pinning me down.  As this flashback occurred, I was back in the moment – actually, everything I could see would switch between reality and the memory.  My husband in reality was trying to hold me still while I was reacting by physically wrestling him and murmuring as if I was back in the moment.  He did not know what was going on until I explained what I saw. There was very little information from this flashback, but it was so real.  Since it happened the evening after praying intently for St. Padre Pio’s help, I felt there was something to hang on to.  At the very least there was a thread I could pull!

After that flashback there was no question anymore whether or not things happened which I did not remember.  Instead the question became who did it, what happened, where, how and why was I abused?  After a lot of mental work trying to remember I figured a couple things out.  For one thing, the babysitter rumored to abuse boys in the neighborhood did not abuse me, however I believe he may have abused my younger brother.  The elderly woman who babysat for my brothers and I – she was a mean and bitter old woman – well, my mom was told that she was alone.  I found out later from my aunt that the old lady was in fact not alone and her husband was living at the time we were watched by her.  As a child, when you are told things are a certain way – well, I believed it.  I would ask my mom about there being someone else there at the house and she replied that only the old lady was there.  Eventually I told my mom that I was afraid of the monster upstairs in that house, but she really didn’t know what I was referring to.  My mom was told the old man was at work during the day.

There were other children who were babysat at that old house.  I could never keep up with them.  It felt like they were running away from me.  One day, they ran up the stairs and into the bedroom.  I ran up to be with the group.  Suddenly, everybody stopped what they were doing, turned, and ran.  The door was shut before I could follow them.  I didn’t know there was any danger.  They did.  They knew the danger and they left.  The old man appeared behind me.  He sat down in his blue chair which was between a window and his nightstand.  He talked to me about …

That was all I remembered for the longest time until I “woke up” half-way down the stairs.

My brothers and I all hated that place.  Brothers number 1 and 2 ran off with the other kids as soon as we got out of the car.  Sometimes my younger brother (#3) was able to stick with the group, but for whatever reason I could not.  I was left behind.

Eventually I remembered some of the abuse which happened by that old man.  I remembered it, but didn’t accept it.

The further and further I crept into this rabbit hole, the deeper and deeper I went without any real understanding.  I had a flashback of implied rape but it was a limited memory, I had remembered what the old man did, my husband could not ignore his gut and needed to know what was going on.  The more I remembered, the more I realized how much I needed to remember!  My questions were only partially answered and no matter how hard I tried mentally, I could not force my brain to open up.

I became more and more determined to search out and find the truth.  One tool that I could use as often as I wanted was and is prayer.  I can not stress enough how important it is to lean on God.  He has NOT abandoned anyone, He allows human free will to continue.  In my case, circumstances lead me into the lions den.   I had consecrated myself to Mary according to “True Devotion to Mary” by St. Louis de Montfort and left everything up to the mother of Jesus Christ.  I also prayed often the novena to the Holy Ghost that I may know the truth and only accept the truth.  The last thing I ever wanted was to believe any more lies, or falsely accuse anyone of abuse.

If you ask God for the Truth, He will help you!

 

Chapter 1 Growing Up Me

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For as long as I can remember, I have felt different.  I have been socially impaired and very uncomfortable with my body.  This is not to say that I never had any friends, I did, but couldn’t connect with others the same way other people do.  As different as I felt from others, they could tell I was different also.  That made me a kind of target for bullies.  I was very alone and scared.  As time went on, I became more numb.  I was building a fortress around my core.  Suicide was often obsessed about, although my life seemed pretty good (except for being made fun of at school).  The one thing that kept me alive was reading in the Roman Missal that suicide is an act of vengeance against God, and because of that you go straight to hell.  I figured, no matter how bad life is – hell is much worse!  So I held on with hope that some day things would change.   Although that piece of knowledge kept me going, I wasn’t sure that would help a ton of other people, so it is not something I have shared too often.  But, because I discovered this through my traditional prayer-book I have done my best to “owe my life to God through tradition for saving mine through tradition!”  Let me tell you, this is not easy!

The most peaceful place growing up was church.  The peaceful quiet of the low Latin mass provided a perfect sanctuary for my soul.  There I could be alone in thought and prayer with God.  There was no danger at church.  Nobody ridiculed anyone.  Nobody crossed any line concerning respect for humanity.  The next happiest place was my dad’s parents house.  My grandma loved kids.  She is the grandmother who everyone, not only her grandchildren, call grandma.  My dad and his family are all good and have had no fault in my trauma growing up, except for their desire to see the good in all people.

Anyway, I didn’t know those suicidal thoughts were the result of years of intense trauma.  I suppose the memories could be described as a sort of jigsaw puzzle/3D matrix.  In order to get to the hub, I had to start from the outside and work my way in.  So, the first memories to surface were those of babysitter(s) who were abusive.  Those memories related to abuse, without connecting directly to the main source of the split personality.  Some of those memories I always had, however, I accepted that they had missing pieces as if that were normal.  Everyone forgets things, right?  The missing pieces were specific though.  For example:  what happened at the babysitters house between seeing the other kids in the old man’s bedroom and “waking up” halfway down the stairs?  Once my husband helped me accept the missing pieces mean something and that I do still have the memory, it was just a matter of uncovering the hidden memories.

As I have progressed in uncovering the truth, I’ve discovered my own life and identity has been defined by lies which had to be believed in order to protect me from knowing what really happened.   I understood false memories to mean something to the effect of remembering abuse that did not actually happen.  What I learned is that the seemingly uneventful repetitive actions were in reality the false memory.  Knowing now what I did not know then, it makes perfect sense why my best friends in the whole wide world who I thought I had spent every day with would say “We didn’t actually spend that much time together.”  At the time I blew it off thinking my friends actually had the faulty memory!  The best way to illustrate this is to have you think of an action movie where someone has to get into a safe and get past multiple security cameras which are constantly being guarded by security officers.  The thieves cut the video wire which the guards are watching, placing what they see on a loop.  The same space of time which was recorded is played over and over again and again.  While the guards think nobody is in the safe committing a crime, the thieves are stealing the money and nobody knows it until the treasure is gone!