Tag Archives: religion

Hello, my name is Josie?


Hello, my name is Josie. ¬†ūüôā ¬†(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.



Chapter 1, Continued…


It is good to have the internet again!  After over two months away РI 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:



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 Рbut 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


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!