Tag Archives: family

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 🙂

 

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!!

Old Guitar

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This morning my oldest red-head discovered something under my bed.  She had a guitar pic in her hand, and a huge smile on her face.

She said, “Mom, I found something to make music!”

My old guitar is something I always wanted to feel comfortable playing, but couldn’t get around feeling so self conscious about it.  The best way to describe how I felt was incredible excitement combined with an equal amount of fear.  The old guitar is more than twenty years old.  It has a cracked bridge, but other than that it seems to play ok.  Since Red #1 found it, I thought maybe it was time to tune it and practice a few chords.  The tips of my fingers hurt – no more callouses to strengthen the finger tips.

The girls loved listening to the strings make music while I pressed certain chords for them.

I am sure one of my alters can play the guitar better than I can.  Josie is much more comfortable expressing herself. There is some thing preventing me from being comfortable expressing myself.  Playing music connects with a deeper part of myself, the part that says “Let ME do it!” and “I’m better than you.”  It is a part that wants to break past all the walls, and say heck with the rules!

But, I can not allow it.  I don’t know how to allow her to express herself.  I have not figured out how to let my alters out without the use of the trigger.  It seems I am always aware now that I know about them.  I don’t want to let go.  I am scared of my free will being mis-used and abused even though I am around people who are loving and trusting.

A funny thing I remember:  I had these two stickers of the Blessed Virgin Mary and St Michael the Archangel.  I thought it would be neat to put them on my guitar case.  My “BFF” who was also in the “group” persuaded me not to put them on the case.  This particular bff was a guy friend of mine who I believe became my handler.  He played a part in making sure I got to certain appointments or rituals.  I believe Josie, as a part of this group of satanists played guitar on occasion.  So, having the Queen of Heaven and the angel who put the devil in hell on my guitar case probably was something they wouldn’t like.

I laugh at that irony.

Anyhow, maybe I can try letting Josie play a few chords, too.  🙂

Princess Power!

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Over the past week I took one daughter at a time to the store to pick up a doll.  Daughter G, who is 7 years old now, picked out the Princess Power Barbie doll with the blue hair.  Blue is her favorite color.  G is a sweetie, she reminds me of myself as a kid.  She is quiet and thoughtful.  She doesn’t have the same problem with socializing with others like I had growing up.  That is beautiful because I know she has never been abused.  She is growing and maturing just the way God created her.  Sometimes I wonder how I would have turned out had our family never moved so close to my uncle, but that is pointless to think about.

Anyway, at the store we looked at several Barbie dolls.  You know what, I felt giddy inside.  I’m sure that was Emily (my little girl alter).  It was nice to know she was present.  She has been hiding a lot.  Well, part of the problem is that even though she is quiet I have a hard time in general identifying who’s who in my mind.  I hear their comments often enough, but I heard them my whole life and always took ownership of the thoughts myself.  So, now I have to reassess where they are coming from and who is who.

Emily is a sweet little girl, but she seems to be very intellectual also – like she is the younger self but also has a more mature intellectual self and I am not sure if that is a separate person, or if it is still her.  Maybe one is her protector since she is extremely shy and wants to live in her familiar shell.

I believe the most recent recollection of feeling compassion and wanting to change my own situation and other kids’ situations but failing and then making things worse for everybody opened up the vault for taking the risk to love others again.  Empathy and sympathy may be the key for connecting with Emily.

Pic of the doll:

http://media.mattel.com/root/Images/MainImage/CDY67_Barbie_in_Princess_Power_Co-S_XXX.jpgtar_Abby_Doll

Connecting the Dots, emotional memory past and present

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For the last week or so things have been so intense emotionally!  We have six daughters, so there is no shortage of emotions in this house!  Plus, we have one on the way – so I am an absolute hormonal wreck!  For the most part the problem is due to pregnancy just intensifying how I feel to an extreme.  So, I decided to go back on Zoloft, which I had all but stopped taking for about 6 months.  However, the pharmacy decided not to fill my prescription!  On the way to my doctor appointment this morning I was going over various thoughts on how to convince the pharmacy or insurance company to fill the stupid meds so I can stop feeling suicidal or at least wishing I was never born.  My doc wrote a new prescription and told me other patients have had similar problems at this pharmacy and he suggested a different place to try.

The last few weeks I have been overwhelmed by the feeling that I just have no impact on the kids.  It doesn’t matter what tactic I use or how I try to pull myself together mentally and remain “calm and assertive” – It just doesn’t seem to phase the kids.  I have been sinking lower and lower every day feeling as though there is no point in trying anymore to form these kids into well behaved children.  They just seem way too strong for my broken mind.  And here I am, overcome by our two and three year old girls.  I become weaker and weaker the more I see how weak I am.

I seem to have no affect on the kids!

Then, usually against my thought train, my husband helps me to see this is more than just parenting strong-willed kids.  I am still remembering what happened 20-30 years ago.  It seems that for me – I relive the emotional effects of the experiences which I have not yet remembered before getting the actual memory.  What I wind up doing is justifying how I feel by using my daily experiences to explain why I am feeling so pointless or angry or whatever.  It can be difficult, because it really is difficult to be experiencing such extreme feelings due to memories bubbling up, or just trying to understand that there really are several different parts of me speaking out, trying to understand and hear what my other’s are saying while trying to raise a family.  There are so many reasons for me to feel like the worst mom in the world – oh the humility of it all.

Regardless of how bad it can get, I still keep holding on…

Usually after asking myself “why” and, “how can God sit back when I am suffering so much” I seem to squeak out a mental prayer.  Hope seems to help calm me down, I think really that is God’s grace giving me strength to keep holding on a little bit longer.
I just keep holding on.

About a year ago or so my husband and I were able to successfully use hypnosis to work on recovering memories and cleaning the mental cobwebs.  However, lately I have not been able to relax and focus enough so we kinda let hypnosis slide for a while.  After another seemingly failed attempt at hypnosis last night with my husband I woke up this morning and understood what had been going on and why I felt so strongly that I could not make any impact on myself or anyone around me.  It is something I have read about other people experiencing, however, even after everything I have remembered already, this had not been a part of the equation until now.  It goes back to the programming/brainwashing the evil people do (I just call the abusers evil people).  They made me watch someone else or some animal get abused and tortured while I was restrained and unable to do anything about what was going on right in front of me.  Then if I had tried to make a move and save or even lessen what was going on that only caused more punishment on top of the abuse or torture.

This has had a major impact on who I am.  I do not believe that I can make a difference in the world, on myself or anything around me unless it is necessary or ordered.  Even then I need another adult to hold my hand through whatever it is that needs to be done.

So, this morning came this understanding: I am not meant to sit back and do nothing in life.  I am meant to make a difference.  It is the Devil’s influence and those evil people who did this to me by their own free will.  They need to STOP the good people in the world from making a positive difference!  I understood more presently that my life is much more than I think it is.  I understood how my intense emotions did not have so much to do with disobedient toddlers as it does have to do with my past.

Until now, I felt like I had kind of hit a brick wall.  Unable to make progress or recover I have been left to sink into my pits of internal hell.  I knew that even though I knew enough to accept or come as far as we have on our yellow brick road, I didn’t know enough to really break out of this person I have become as a result of the programming and evil in my life.  It seems easier for my others/alters to grow, learn, and change, than it is for me.  Being unable to progress had begun to eat away at any hope I had for becoming the person I have seen myself to be in the future.

My fear of success is really a fear of making a change or having a strong positive impact on someone or something.  This means if I move forward from this point I can really make a major difference.  I am excited, but scared.  There is a lot of work to do.  This has been an area where I have been extremely resistant – maybe just not ready for approaching until now.

Finally, some prayers have been answered.  I had to be ready, to reach a certain point or thought process in order to trigger this.  Although I am still very drained emotionally, and still have very depleated levels of hope and faith (charity too – maybe this whole thing is why I could never grow in charity?) there is enough of a spark because this connection was made to be able to become stronger again.

I thank Jesus for sharing His mother with me and being my brother.  Depression can really make it hard to retain hope.  It can be so painful to ask again for God’s help after sinking so low again and again and again.  Somehow things do get better.  Now, I need to remember this for tomorrow!!

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).

Triggered by Parenting

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Today began pretty normal – tired waking up, but readying my self for a new day.  The older kids went to school while the little ones stay behind.  To begin with I felt very positive.  I said morning prayers and intended to write about my experiences with angels.  Then something happened.  My daughters started fighting – not the physical fighting, but the kind of fighting that leaves you feeling unwanted and left out.

A door slams.

“She won’t play with me!”

I go in and try to bring peace and unity to siblings.  The younger girls want to be like their older sisters.  Today, one of my daughters is home sick.  So my 5 year old decided she was going to play in her sister’s room – without her 3 year old sister.  Naturally the 3 yo is upset.  I find a solution with a different set of toys she could play with in the living room.  So what happens, the two older sisters come out and start playing with the toys I set up for my 3 yo.  Emotions soar quickly in a house of girls!  My 3 year old goes 0 to 60 emotionally in half a second it seems.

The trigger strengthens.

I yelled, “NO, you have to play nicely together!”   Immediately I feel terrible about yelling and within minutes sink into complete hopelessness.  I deal with that by texting my poor husband at work.  It helps me, but can’t say its easy for him to deal with.  Just prior to this I had texted him that I was quitting potty training – It feels impossible to be consistent at anything.  Through the texting I continued to express how angry and hopeless I was, how worthless I feel as a parent, and my “Why” questions about God.

My husband is pretty used to me by now.  He responded after the flurry of emotional texts was over without reacting to my emotions.  He suggested that I was triggered.  He was correct.  So, in spite of myself I started calming down at the mere suggestion that I was being triggered.

I still do not feel safe in groups.  As a child, the other kids around always left me behind.  They left me alone to be abused.  My brothers left me behind, my parents left me behind, and groups of kids left me behind.  So, when one of my kids gets upset that someone won’t play with them – I get triggered.  The problem is, I’m not sure there is anything I can do to prevent that experience from occurring.  Knowing now this is a trigger will help.  The trouble is with calming the intensity that being triggered imposes on the mind and body.

holly14_angels

“When you feel the assaults of passion and anger, then is the time to be silent as Jesus was silent in the midst of his ignominies and sufferings.”  — St Paul of the Cross (1694-1775)

Hello, my name is Josie?

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Hello, my name is Josie.  🙂  (One of the alters)  Here I thought I had so much to say!  Anyway, I had a dream last night.  I was looking at a photo album with baby pictures of myself.  There was a picture of a very cute baby girl.  Now that we have access to more memories from the core (Dory) I know – that baby looked nothing like my real baby pictures!  Funny, huh?  It’s just wierd…

I was named for my aunt’s (supposedly my mother) daughter who she gave up for adoption.  The other Josie was actually a year older than I actually am!  They even gave me her birthday!  Since my aunt and real mom are twin sisters, people would mix them up regularly.  That way when someone came up to me/Dory/whoever the heck I was and asked how my mom was doing it didn’t matter who was the front person, because Dory would always say “oh, you must mean my aunt – she is my mom’s twin sister” and they would be like, “oh, tell her I say hi.”  One time somebody made a mistake.  The conversation started the same – “how’s your mom” yada yada. But she went on this time – Oh, I had no idea she has a twin sister.  Then she let out a little more…  “I thought you were adopted by another family in the area, but would still spend time with [the aunt], I thought you knew”

Usually, people would stop talking after they heard our aunt was a twin.  This was interesting anyway.  So, I am not really the real person — How do you like that??  I had friends and a whole social circle of people that I really thought had some sense of loyalty.  No, now I find out they probably were more interested in the novelty of being involved with someone they had the ability to control!  I am reminded of Dory hearing about how everybody loves Josie, not so much her.  That is because she is a good Catholic girl – not the kind of person my friends would typically befriend unless they could turn her.   I have learned they are loyal to the point of something being in it for themselves.

If the people who did this to us could be equated with vampires, then Dory married Van Helsing.  A very loyal and stubborn man!  Ever since getting married we have had no contact with them – and we are happy for it!  I like Dory’s life.  It gets a little lonely without friends – but to be honest I don’t have much in common with anybody.

I don’t feel like a slave to the devil anymore.  Being free spiritually is so much better than being a slave to the devil with many friends.  Without our husband we would still be involved in the rituals and surely the programming would get updated.

From Psalm 30:

Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am afflicted: my eye is troubled with wrath, my soul, and my belly:

[11] For my life is wasted with grief: and my years in sighs. My strength is weakened through poverty and my bones are disturbed. [12] I am become a reproach among all my enemies, and very much to my neighbours; and a fear to my acquaintance. They that saw me without fled from me. [13] I am forgotten as one dead from the heart. I am become as a vessel that is destroyed.[14] For I have heard the blame of many that dwell round about. While they assembled together against me, they consulted to take away my life. [15] But I have put my trust in thee, O Lord: I said: Thou art my God.

[16] My lots are in thy hands. Deliver me out of the hands of my enemies; and from them that persecute me. [17] Make thy face to shine upon thy servant; save me in thy mercy. [18] Let me not be confounded, O Lord, for I have called upon thee. Let the wicked be ashamed, and be brought down to hell. [19] Let deceitful lips be made dumb. Which speak iniquity against the just, with pride and abuse. [20] O how great is the multitude of thy sweetness, O Lord, which thou hast hidden for them that fear thee! Which thou hast wrought for them that hope in thee, in the sight of the sons of men.

http://drbo.org/chapter/21030.htm

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!