Tag Archives: DID

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

Jesus’ Agony

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Every so often I come to a point where I start to question everything.  I question these memories, or my Others and how separated are they or if they are real.  I test whether or not the life I remember is the life i lived.  I get to a point where I am like, Oh COME ON ALREADY!!!   Are You Serious??? Really???  Every once in a while it gets to be too much, because honestly I am currently living the life that fits with the past I remembered.  Usually this happens when I am faced with a major change of perspective on how I apply what I am learned so far to my life in a way that I can not hide from. It is then that I go back to what brought me here in the first place.

This path I am on started ten years ago with St. Padre Pio.

It has been Ten Years Already!  Wow!  Back then I was 75% sure that I had not experienced abuse.  The first day asking for St. Pio’s intercession to heal this mental chaos, he gave me one small flashback.  And that was it – the question’s I had throughout my life regarding whether or not anything abusive happened was in fact answered.  But, isn’t that interesting too?  I always questioned whether or not I was abused – as if even as a young person I knew what I could not consciously know.

This post is more of a continuation of two previous posts:

Setting the Stage for D.I.D.

Accepting the Worst

When I was probably 2 years old our family lived in an apartment.  Hanging on the dining room wall was a painting that my great-grandparents bought when they were first married.  It was a painting of Jesus in the garden of olives (I believe is called the garden of Gethsemane?)

As a very little girl I would look up at that painting.  It was a very dark painting, set in a dark wooden frame.  It was difficult to understand what the painting was about.  One day, my dad must have been sober for a moment and took interest in his daughter pondering this painting.  He stood next to me, and gave me the opportunity to ask him, “Who is that?”

He said it is Jesus.  It is a painting of His agony in the garden of olives.

I didn’t know who Jesus was or what agony meant, but couldn’t help staring at this painting of a man kneeling and praying with heartfelt expression on his face.  His apostles, sleeping in the distance.

[39] And going out, he went, according to his custom, to the mount of Olives. And his disciples also followed him. [40] And when he was come to the place, he said to them: Pray, lest ye enter into temptation.

[41] And he was withdrawn away from them a stone’ s cast; and kneeling down, he prayed, [42] Saying: Father, if thou wilt, remove this chalice from me: but yet not my will, but thine be done. [43] And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony, he prayed the longer. [44] And his sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the ground. [45] And when he rose up from prayer, and was come to his disciples, he found them sleeping for sorrow.

[46] And he said to them: Why sleep you? arise, pray, lest you enter into temptation. [47] As he was yet speaking, behold a multitude; and he that was called Judas, one of the twelve, went before them, and drew near to Jesus, for to kiss him. [48] And Jesus said to him: Judas, dost thou betray the Son of man with a kiss? [49] And they that were about him, seeing what would follow, said to him: Lord, shall we strike with the sword? [50] And one of them struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his right ear.

[51] But Jesus answering, said: Suffer ye thus far. And when he had touched his ear, he healed him.  (Luke 22:39-51)

For some reason, that painting connected to my heart.

Growing up learning the traditional catechism, we were taught that during Jesus’ agony Satan was there.  The devil showed Jesus all of our sins, all the horrible things that would still happen until the end of the world regardless if Jesus suffered on the cross or not.  And the devil showed these things to Jesus – ALL of the sins of mankind – all of this within an hour.

It makes sense why Jesus was sweating blood from every pore of His body!

I try to place myself in that position…

Jesus, during this agony, saw…

innocent babies being tortured,

children being raped,

children being scandalized in countless ways,

His own church, His own priests abusing others

His own followers allowing Satan to infect, betray, and deceive

Jesus saw how “anti-apostles” who are satanic priests would deceive others into allowing them into a catholic church, turn the unleavened bread into the body and blood of Jesus, only to then turn around and use His body and His blood in black masses – and still, nobody believes this happens.

That is not all, no, He also saw the suffering He was about to endure.

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Jesus saw and felt not only the victimization and perversion of innocence, but also the sins of those who committed these crimes.  Contemplating this in regards to my own life feels impossible because I know how hard it has been to remember and allow Christ to heal me.  Just one memory alone is too much, let alone my entire existence and lives of those who did in fact choose to abuse and torture me.

Jesus saw this all, before he died.  Not only my life and the lives of those who did this to me – but every one – ALL sins til the end of the world!

No wonder he sweat blood.

So, whenever this all seems like it is too much I unite myself with Jesus Christ’s Agony in the Garden.  Whenever this seems like it is too hard to believe when another memory comes up – I suffer through the memory anyway.  Jesus endured my memories, and He didn’t deserve to suffer through them.

Jesus took some of the suffering upon Himself, so that I wouldn’t have to suffer as much.

When it all is too weird for words, I say to myself this:

“Even if this isn’t true, I am going to suffer this anyway because chances are that somebody somewhere in the world is in fact going through this.  Chances are that somebody in the world is too weak to endure remembering their trauma, and I am remembering now for their sake.”

This is how I unite myself with Christ’s agony as best I can.

Then, I am usually reminded of all the examples that show me how this is all true and I did go through this.

Gethsemane6

Jesus, I trust in You!

 

Sometimes, it feels like we will never get through this.  It feels like the suffering will never end.  The hard days become more common that the okay days.  But, I know that as long as I am able to cry out to God –

God will show His mercy and His love.

More of Me

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Here I am, attempting to write what I can…

Memories, pictures, people,

It is all a story in my head

like pages ripped out of a book,

and hidden somewhere…

somewhere…

 

The adults in my life consistently expressed disbelief in the possibility that I could have remembered something from when I was two, or younger.  Even I have a hard time believing that I could have a memory from so young, but I do.

I found the missing pages.

It is like finding the pieces of a treasure map when you thought you had the whole map, only to discover these missing pieces are absolutely vital to succeeding in finding the buried treasure.

I have discovered a lot over the last few months.  I have recovered memories and other personalities.  You know what?  With the recent additions, I feel MORE myself than I remember feeling in an extremely long time.  With every found piece, I find peace.

“I remember feeling that way!”

I can remember feeling!

As the group becomes more whole within, I honestly know more and more how every last personality or alter – is really me.

Each one of them is a part of me that developed under certain conditions out of necessity.  They are me, and I am in them.    I used to be afraid that each part of me was going to be some evil thing that could never change.  We all just need a little help, that’s all.  I still wouldn’t mind talking to a priest, though!

Something worth looking into more is attachment theory.

Another subject is childhood emotional neglect.

Emotional neglect may not sound like a big deal to some people, but it is helping me understand what I was going through emotionally as a preschooler/toddler.  Emotional neglect greatly shaped who I am.

 

I have to share the memories, but will do that later.

goodnight 🙂

 

Accepting the Worst

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When I began writing about coming to terms with having multiple personalities/dissociative identity disorder about a year ago or so the idea of accepting that there has been a BIG chunk of my life that I did not know anything about has been a struggle.  The idea that so much could have been done in my life and yet, I haven’t known it – it’s hard to accept.  I mean, I remembered hanging out with my friends like all the time.  But when they would make comments suggesting that they were not with me like I thought – I dismissed them as being crazy.  So – I had NO clue that any abuse was happening or that I had a bunch of other personalities handling the abuse.

For memories of abuse to be so well removed from my own memory means these memories are pretty horrible.  The memories of what was done are so horrible – really it is not something anybody wants to fantasize about.

Sometimes, acceptance is so far down recovery road that just acknowledging we are victims of a certain genre of abuse can be overwhelming to the point of nausea and passing out.  While I read passing out from recovering traumatic memories is extremely rare, there is one type of abuse that would make me extremely sick and pass out at the mere mention of it.  It has taken more than a year to come to terms with the idea this was possible before I could talk to my husband without getting sick over it.

Other memories can be entirely confusing because – I’m a catholic girl, and would really like to be a good catholic woman and frankly – I personally would never do these things (relating to satanic ritual abuse) in a million years under any condition.  The idea that any part of me could have been programmed or abused into following their orders has also been tough to accept.

God’s Divine and Infinite Mercy – as long as I am willing to say I am sorry, then I can be confident in His forgiveness!  Praying the Divine Mercy chaplet really helped me look at the horrible memories that God was shining His light on.  Also, I can not stress enough:

Pray that God will help you to know and accept the truth!

There is only one truth.  1 truth about my life and I ask God who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life to help me have the courage to know and accept this in my life.

Try to accept the worst.  Open your mind, loosen the hardened heart.  Protecting ourselves is only hurting us.

Yesterday was Sexagesima Sunday according to the traditional Catholic calendar.  This means we are about sixty days before Easter.  The priest connected the epistle and gospel in a wonderful way and inspired me to write today.

Sexagesima Sunday

Epistle  •  2 Corinthians 11:19-33; 12:1-9

Gospel • Luke 8:4-15

http://www.fatima.org/prayer/epistle/sexagesima_sunday_epistle.asp

In the epistle, St Paul said “but for myself I will glory nothing but in my infirmities”.  The epistle also mentions suffering.  Then the Gospel talked about someone spreading seeds on the ground and how depending on the type of soil the seed lands on the seed may or may not bear fruit.  The seed being the word of God and we are the soil.  Click the link above to read the epistle and gospel.

Ground that is tough and infertile will not help a seed grow, but if we can see our weaknesses and problems with humility we can loosen that soil.  People who have been neglected and abused  during childhood learn that we must protect ourselves.  Oftentimes when we do that we harden our own hearts to make ourselves as strong as possible.  We were only children trying to hold it together.  So we firmly hold on to all of the ideas and teachings that sustain us.

Hey, doing this kept me alive, so I don’t knock it as long as it’s keeping you going.  However, I am older and stronger now.  I don’t have to protect myself the same way now as I did then.

Yes, I hardened my heart and swallowed my tears (like the song, lol).  And in order to loosen that heart and loosen the soil I must grab a garden fork and stab myself in the heart with it.  It is painful, but in a way that is what it feels like to accept the worst. I had to die to myself and every idea and self perception.  So, you dig down deep with the garden fork and turn things around.  You loosen the soil, loosen your heart.  Now the brokenness is even more real, it’s more painful now that I am conscious of it.  But, the air suddenly is reaching my heart and I can breath!  The water is penetrating me and, you know what – my heart is not so brittle and cracked from drought anymore!  When you lift up your brokenness to God, it is then His grace can penetrate you and do the most healing.  It is when I could be honest with myself – accepting the truth about my life – that God could really do some pretty darn amazing things to aid the healing process.

So, have courage.  God is with you.  God sees all and knows all.  He knows all of your thoughts even better than you do.  Be brave and face yourself.

Eating a sour lemon is over quicker than making lemonade…

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I am scared.

There it is.  I am scared!

It took nearly ten years to realize the abuse I endured caused me to dissociate.  Until my husband and I came to accept this we were homeschooling.  However, teaching the kids at home forced me to deal with whatever it was that caused functioning in this life to be so darn difficult.  Taking on more responsibility at home meant that I could not spend time escaping from my self.  This was when I went to see a neuropsychiatrist who diagnosed me with A.D.D.  The medication for ADD enabled my brain to make and keep more connections and ultimately helped me to become able to take a look at myself.  Though the memories of sexual abuse had already begun surfacing years before this, the medication helped me take things to another step where I could think about those memories and allow more connections to be made.  Previously, the memories were like a ladder missing most of the rungs.  I had several ladders with only a few rungs.  I was getting nowhere!  The meds helped me put more rungs on the ladder so I could actually get somewhere!

Though the medication helped me get through homeschooling for the most part, there were times I was not able to fill the prescriptions.  During the unmedicated or less medicated times homeschooling was extremely difficult – like walking backwards on a treadmill.  Knowing our kids’ education important we decided to send them to a private school.  However, we could not keep sending them to the school that the kids and my husband and I liked so much and wound up sending them to public school.

Every time I thought about sending my kids to public school the fear that somebody is going to do God know’s what to them plagued me.  You see, the uncle who sold me to the devil and signed me up for the government’s modern form of slavery also worked for the fire department.  When I was in kindergarten it was his job to walk through the school and make sure the building was safe.  He would walk through every classroom.  When I saw him, I couldn’t help but wave and say “hi!” Eventually everybody started waving and I could hear several classes shout out, “Hi uncle _________!”  This happened every few weeks.

I have no memory of abuse occurring at the school, but my uncle is forever tied to school for me.

For two days in a row, for separate reasons, all the area schools were under lock-down.  Yesterday there was a different threat than the one today and neither threats were against my kids’ schools, but the school has to take safety measures.  Objectively I know my kids are safe.  But I mean COME ON!!! 

These are the times that make me so thankful to have developed a prayer-life long ago.  It was hope that I clung to while sinking into suicidal thoughts as a young girl.  It was knowing that God knows all my thoughts and feelings that allowed me to pray without anybody knowing.  And, it was my guardian angel that protected me from greater injury when I was hit by a car at 6 years old – I only had a few scrapes and bruises.  This is proof of God’s love.  This is my proof that He does in fact intervene, even if it is not obvious in an outward visible way.  These are experiences that no man can take from me.  Just like God sending grace to help me keep going then, He will do the same now.

I just have to make use of His help.  I still feel the pressure and fear, but I know that it ends.

Hopefully my kids do not have to be on lock-down ever again!!

Picking Up Good Vibrations

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An interesting and exciting experience occurred with my baby.  I was giving her a bottle and stopped to burp her.  So I put her on my shoulder and patted her back.  Then she did something babies always do when their mouth is near skin – she tried licking my shoulder.  Her automatic nursing reflex to eat kicked in.  Now, even with all of the babies I have had, even though my kids all sucked on my arm if they moved their head, looking for more food, I had never felt the sensation of a baby attempting to nurse!  I have felt it on a physical level, but not in a way where my brain would interpret what I was feeling and in turn allow me to live in that experience.  I never knew – how removed I was from the physical experience of living.  I had no idea there was more to our senses.  Sure, my senses are mostly in tact (except for pain and pleasure) – I can see, hear, smell, taste, and feel.  I can appreciate a beautiful painting, enjoy music, like and dislike different smells and tastes, BUT none of those things have been able to move me on an emotional level.  Life has been impersonal and I never realized it until my baby “nursed” on my shoulder.

It makes sense now why breastfeeding has been impossible.  I understand now that feeling in my breasts comes and goes.  There is no pain, no pleasure 90% of the time.  What I feel is pretty much robotic or strictly on a physical level – very externally focused.

There are pros and cons to having a limited experience of the senses.  Here is a good example of a pro:  Childbirth.  Labor and delivery is said to be the most painful thing a person could go through, however, the delivery room was said to be like a black hole the last time I was giving birth.  When the pain hits and increases, I do not talk, I do not move.  I retreat and pull everything I can within.  I become extremely focused during the pain.  I actually use all my strength to get through birth.  Nobody knows it though.  To everybody else I am a frigging’ machine.  There is no crying, or yelling, no crazy outbursts – I lay there quietly and still.  Thankfully my husband can tell by now how much pain I am in by how quiet and still I am.  When it comes time to push I do yell – that is very painful – although my husband still says even then I don’t express how I feel or even use grunts to help push.

So, limited pain is a pro. The cons range from physical to the emotional.  During one of my pregnancies I became extremely sick and didn’t know it until I was on my death-bed.  I had an infection from a super-bug that is resistant to antibiotics and has a mortality rate which varies from 50% to 100% depending on the overall health of the individual.  This was severe pneumonia and a severe kidney and bladder infection.  I HAD NO IDEA that I was so sick!  The baby was delivered a month early.  Labor was induced though I was having seizures.  When the baby was born, she had a fever of 106 degrees and needed an IV which was put in through the soft spot of her skull!  Also I am unable to breastfeed because I am unable to experience nursing a baby.  Then you have the marital problems that arise because touching and being touched doesn’t connect with my emotions or mental processes they way it does for most normal people.  I can’t tell you, how hard marriage has been because I don’t really experience life!  So the fact that finally I experienced a touch in a new way is a major eye opener.

What else don’t I feel?

Caught in the Middle Between Multiple Personalities (DID) and Marriage

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Internal conflicts… that which hits the at the heart of who my alters are and why they exist; the very reason from what I can tell so far, that one alter split into two and so on.  My husband is an empath and picks up on the deepest parts of my emotions.  He has picked up  on things which for years I would not accept, and now find are true.

Here is what I know of my Others so far:

It started with Emily.  She is my little girl.  She’s about 10, but has the maturity of a 5 or 6 year old.  She faced the initial horrors which brought her into being.  Somehow Nicea came into the mix.  She had a different name to begin with, but (ok, I know this sounds weird but go with it) Jesus brought her up into my awareness out of the pits of my deepest interior hell during one of my hypnosis sessions with my husband.  Jesus renamed her.  I typically refer to her as Nicky.  Nicky holds all of the pain and suffering physically and emotionally that the other girls can not live with.  If Jesus did not show her to me I would have thought she was a demon plaguing me, honestly.  At some point during puberty (I hate the word, ug) Josie was split off.  I believe the reason she was split is due to my body growing and being able to feel enjoyment during sex.  She somehow developed out of Emily’s rejection of and hatred for all sexual enjoyment and anyone involved with the act.  Emily held on to that which made sense to her, while Josie developed in the backround at first.  Josie embodies Emily’s inability to connect with other people and enjoy the world around her.  Josie can act well socially around others and really enjoys sex.

Before Nicky was brought out from the darkness, Emily had a very intellectual and objective personality.  She was very curious and had many questions.  She still has the questions, but since Nicky completes her in a way, the intense emotions of a child who has been traumatized have been restored to Emily’s nature.  Nicky is also the protector of Emily.

In addition to those three major players there are the personality traits.  I like to call them aspects of our personality.  These aspects may be major parts of who I am that have been suppressed as a side effect from the abuse and programming.  The aspects include joy, playfulness, setting goals, and even my sense of justice.  There are many different aspects to our personality.  It is possible the programming directly caused the suppression of many of these aspects – like leadership and goals and justice which would be in direct conflict with the programming.

The major conflict at this point has to do with my marital physical relationship.  My husband has long picked up on Nicky’s hatred for, Emily’s pain from, and Josie’s longing for our physical relationship.  I, personally, am indifferent.  The conflicting emotions from my others leave me wishing the human race didn’t have to reproduce in the manner we do.  I don’t feel that way out of dislike or hatred for the act, but rather out of utter frustration with the act.  I do not orgasm – that’s Josie’s arena.  I don’t loathe the physical nature of humanity – that’s Emily’s arena.  I am caught in the middle.  All I am left with is indifference.  I could take it or leave it.  I don’t mind it, but I don’t see what all the fuss is about.  People act like sex is the be all end all of human existence and I just don’t get it.  (To clarify, technically sex is the reason for human existence but what I mean to point out is how much sex has thoroughly taken over our culture)  Look at all the psychological and physical trauma sex causes!  It even causes trouble when it is used morally within marriage.  I know it can be a holy and very good act, but there is nowhere to be found a clue as to how to turn sex from something abusive, raunchy, or selfish into something loving, beautiful, giving, and even holy.  But what do I know.  If I was to look for an answer to that question my others would keep fighting about it and nobody involved would be helped even if the answer was staring me in the face.

Then there is my wonderful empathic husband.  Because of his empathy and analytical skills my alters and I have come as far as we have.  But, when it comes to marriage, there has been trouble.  Like I mentioned, he picks up on what I am feeling even stronger than I do.  So, while I am feeling fine about touching each other, he picks up on the emotions stirring under the surface which makes the experience very trying on him mentally as well.  It has gotten to the point where Emily and Josie are fighting over control of my body regardless of my awareness.  I, myself, will be ready to be with my husband mentally, but physically my body won’t allow it.  Other times I am mentally not in the mood but Josie will keep pushing me and my body refuses to relax until I get some.  My husband at this point is exceptionally frustrated with the whole thing as am I.

One good thing coming out of this so far is that I am learning how to become stronger in my core.  I must step up and say, I am married and care for my husband!  I love him and WANT to take care of him!  Still, it’s not easy.  In a way, I think my others are kind of relieved to know I am increasing in strength.

Healing and getting stronger is a very exhausting process!

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.