Tag Archives: lean on God

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.

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.

A Memory for Monday

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Please use caution when reading my post if you are dealing with ptsd or did since reading any posts about my memories may be triggering. Today I mention angels, demon, switching personalities, catholicism

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Read the rest of this entry

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).

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

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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