Child abuse and molestation interferes with family bonds, but I lost 2 fake brothers & gained 2 real sisters.

Went to visit people in my home town city, Dayton, Ohio. It was nice to see people, though being in Dayton makes me sick to my stomach. I made the right choice leaving behind the place with the strongest connection to memories and triggers of abuse. I do like to reminisce and sometimes like to check out my home town for happy reasons, but mostly it’s an uncomfortable experience every time I come back here.

The reason for this visit this time? My sister just had a baby. Well, she is not my biological sister. I don’t have any biological sisters, just 3 older brothers. She lived next door to me in my childhood and she has known me since i was about 3. She knew my older brothers too, probably hung out with them several times, even the one that raped me. I think they may have been acquaintances, hanging out because of her boyfriend being the same age. I used to sit outside on the porch, and I’d see her. I’d ask if I could come over. She would show me her toys and I would come over many days to play with them and her all throughout my childhood (though she was a few years older than me, she had many stuffed animals still even as a teenager and I would still be over there playing with them). When I visited her again just recently, we were talking and laughing about how I always tried to ask if I could have her stuffed animals and take them home with me. I think now it was because they reminded me of a safe feeling. I think they reminded me of her and how she made me feel safe. Something I didn’t know at that age, in the middle of being raped almost daily.

So if she isn’t biologically my sister, I obviously call her my sister because she has always been there, just didn’t live with me. She didn’t have to play with me, an annoying weird little girl next door. She as a teen didn’t have to play with a preteen. She could have ignored me. She didn’t. She showed me kindness, like she could feel my loneliness and feel our deep connection.

I don’t remember when I told, I’m pretty sure I was still young, but I told her what my brother did. I don’t know when though. I can’t figure out what age I was. Obviously being next door and having played with me so frequently, and knowing my brothers, she was aware when Jason went away. I was told to lie about what he went away for. I at some point decided to tell her the truth.

I don’t remember what was said, I just know she has always known.

She always was there for me. Even after turning 18 and moving in with her boyfriend, she and I were best friends. She moved right across the street. Since it was so close, and since my mom stayed up late anyway, I was allowed to be over there pretty late sometimes with her as a teenager. She was my best friend and I always sought her for advice. She was what really felt like family. She was a bond that I THOUGHT I had with my mother. In time, later in adulthood, I realized the bond with my mom was forced.

So she is my sister through this bond, because she saw my pain, acknowledged it, and then proceeded to validate my pain. She comforted me and showed me a safe place exists. I realize now, even with all the wonderful motherly things my mom did, she just couldn’t fill this void. This emptiness because, the last thing said about our abuse was not anything that said it was okay for us to be angry. She basically gave me and my alters a vibe that fixing our brother Jason was more important than my fear of him. So I stuffed it down, I dissociate, another alter speaks and lives, seemingly fine because having no recollection of abuse. I mean, if I seemed okay, then that should have been the FIRST SIGN that something was NOT OKAY.

I mean, who is okay after rape? WHO THE FUCK wants to sit down and have Christmas dinner with their rapist?! WHO THE FUCK wants to sit at the family get together while people laugh and joke and show kindness and love to your rapist but treat you like the weirdo for being withdrawn from the celebration? People who call themselves family only see family as a way to glorify themselves: “LOOK WHAT I CAN DO FOR YOU!” and “Look at how nice I am!” And family is just free labor to give you help…Family is a selfish fucking thing….I mean, people were not disturbed by my ability to seem okay and smile and hug my FUCKING RAPIST?! THE FULL GROWN MALE (not “boy”) who FUCKED ME IN MY FUCKING ASS AS 3 YEAR OLD GIRL! WHAT. THE. HOLY. FUCK. Calling yourselves fucking christians….guess you are, because the only religious requirement ever stated is that girls need to be in puberty before wed…although, i wasn’t even FUCKING IN PUBERTY. God damn pedo….no fucking brother of mine…

…..Whoa sorry about that, that was June sneaking in. I’m not erasing it. I’ll leave it there to let her say her piece…Anyway.  I have a part of me desperately needing my mother to acknowledge that I was hurt, so that little girl doesn’t feel she did something wrong or that she is wrong for feeling hurt. Connie, the 8 year old alter in here, says she is always in pain, but she refused to share the memories or what she knows about the abuse or why she is in pain. I know some things, but not vividly. Like just having the knowledge not the experience.. Like I read it in a book, and not like I have vivid memories or can feel the event of it. She won’t let anyone touch that part she hides in our mind. She is a little martyr girl, not wanting anyone else to suffer like she does so she keeps it all for herself to protect the rest of us.

As I’m visiting my sister, whom I’ve bonded with and gotten more respect from than my whole family ever gave, I am feeling this is where I belong. I want to cry because I finally don’t feel like I’m the block pulled from the bottom of the JENGA stack that is just going to make the whole thing fall. I’m holding her newborn son, and I love him as much as I did holding any other niece or nephew as a baby. This, this is my family. This is the chemical bond that ties me with love. It never happened like it’s supposed to with blood kin. That bond was interfered with…That bond was feared and rejected. I am just so happy to know, that no matter what I say to my sister about how I feel about my rape, she will never tell me I need to forgive him. I am just so happy to be comfortable being myself…..Or my “selves.” She has always known. She has seen them in my youth. She has actually recorded them and interviewed them, though that video got deleted shortly after. I wish it hadn’t. I’d like to have it to add on to the documentary of my life, as I’m trying to piece my own memories an experiences together.

I am so thankful to have her there. I am so thankful that I was lucky enough to have her live next door. I am thankful that the Universe gave me someone to bond to, while my family unit of blood kin was an illusion. I am probably doing as well as I am because of a few people in my childhood who I bonded with, when needing that family bond.

I also have another woman I consider sister. She was the one who married my rapist brother. As we all lived our lives in this false universe of “forget what Jason did and pretend we are a normal family” and Jason appeared functional, he was able to go about life to manipulate more people. Yes, I said more people. The truth is, my brother manipulated my whole family into believing he was NOT, indeed, an actual pedophile. He convinced them he was not a danger and this was like a simple mistake… He convinced them that he just did it because I “got all this attention” and he was “jealous” of me.

Like OOOPS he fucking slipped and fell with his dick in my ass???! Who would believe this shit?

Damn it June…let me finish…I know you reading this seems like a quick back and forth, but it actually takes me a second to fight back from dissociation. El-oh-el about triggering myself when I try to type this out. I’m getting stronger, eventually I believe the triggers won’t hurt and they won’t be “triggers” firing anymore.

He was a good manipulator indeed. He just robbed everyone of their common sense by batting those eyelashes of those big blue eyes and adding a cutesy “I’m sawwy” so now they pity him. They couldn’t believe he was “bad.” Reality check -You know what you are doing when you have sex, as it takes focus and energy, as the pleasure will allow  you to keep doing it. It especially takes some calculating and effort when the victim is arguing and fighting against it or needs coercion to do it.

If you can feel pleasure during someone else’s torment, I’m sorry that makes you a dangerous person. It makes you sociopathic. It means even if you don’t rape, you are okay hurting people in other ways too. In theory anyone who has raped has shown to be the most dangerous of all people. In theory they are capable of as much as killing people without remorse (and possibly even finding pleasure in it) and since it’s children the pedo’s hurt you better believe that they would not have a problem KILLING A CHILD either. Oh you want to try to argue that someone who can rape a child can feel bad about hurting a child and maybe the wouldn’t murder them? Well, if it meant no witness to their crime, and they were in a desperate fear of being caught, you better believe the selfish sociopath would do so. With murder as the worst case scenario, still the most minimal offense is extreme. It will still be a horrific one even if not a violent one, as psychological and emotional abuse is just as damaging as physical at times. Even causing Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Common sense says, that the larger majority of sex offenders will offend again. Statistics and science know that pedophiles don’t stop being pedophiles and once they do it, they are like addicts trying to resist the drug dangled in their face. Science also knows that pedophilia arises with puberty like a sexual orientation, so even children can be pedophiles. Even children are capable of showing signs of being a permanent danger to children. If the world would see these truths, instead of hiding and covering up rape and violence (especially sibling abuse), then we could protect a lot more people, children especially. I want the world to be less squeamish and embarrassed when talking about rape and violence on children, and be more angry.

A child shouldn’t have to grow up feeling like they float outside the universe, like they are an alien without a connection to any other human in this planet. A child should not have to grow up afraid to speak the truth because people make her feel embarrassed about something that really is downright horrifying. It’s not a little “tee-hee” giggle giggle perversion. Stop saying it was sex. It was psychological torture, manipulation, a physically painful assault.

Back to the woman married my rapist….She was now my sister in law. I tried to warn her before. One of the others came out, I’m guessing it was Connie or June, trying to ask her if she was SURE she wanted to marry Jason. I have this memory of a conversation I was physically there for, but was not consciously aware. The person speaking asks the fiancee’ if she knows everything. She says, yes. They persist, “No, do you know EVERYTHING.” She insists, yes I know EVERYTHING. So then, with a deep breath, they go to the next level to ask, “do you know what Jason did when we were younger?” She said, “Yes, I know about you and Jason and what he did.” I can see we went silent for a moment. I don’t know what was going on…..maybe this was another switch… We talked about how he has become a better guy and well, at least he was honest with her about it, so maybe that was a good sign…

This is the ridiculous brainwashed mess that I was speaking. The same rhetoric I–still TO THIS DAY–hear my mother retort back at me. How well Jason is doing, how he’s back on the wagon, how she’s so PROUD of how good he is doing. How he learned his lesson and he just has some issues and is a good man. Yeah, we don’t care to hear any of that. Now though, I finally understand where it came from, inside my mind, to accept Jason back in our life as if he didn’t *mean to* hurt us. Like some how he didn’t understand he was hurting us before and SUDDENLY now somebody explained it and—OOOH! LIGHT BULB! NOW it makes sense that he shouldn’t have done that. And he said sorry, and he wasn’t thinking right, and he was on drugs…excuse excuse minimize me minimize my abuse I’ve no right to complain or be upset now because it’s really “no big deal” now is it?

Well, I tried to warn my sister-in-law. A part of me wanted the truth to come out and stop living this lie. I was prevented from doing so. These others were prevented from speaking up too. We tried…I couldn’t fight through dissociation though, not with the constant psychological torture and other abuse going on in my life (my other brother physically assaulted me on a regular basis and my mom did nothing to protect me from that, even prevented me from calling the police on him when I was 16 and he was 18 because he’d go to jail then as an adult….and god-forbid, we ruing the lives of our abusers, right?)

My mom, I get her, she wanted her family. However, my mom had a distorted view. She came from a broken abusive situation. She thought family was sticking together no matter what, except for a mother who neglects or abandons her kids. I feel my mom felt abandoned by her own mother, so she couldn’t allow herself to “give up on” or “abandon” her sons, even though they were abusive and dangerous. She thought herself to be viewed as a bad parent, and ultimately it seems people care more about how they look to the world as parents, rather than actually being a good parent. 

As a parent, it is your responsibility to hold your children accountable for their actions and teach them of consequences. That should also include, making them pay for their crimes, with an adequate punishment equal to it. Children don’t know they can go to jail, I feel that’s why there are so many bad kids. I mean, some how we need to start informing children of law and prison in their youth. I mean, we need to add more info on the local laws for local schools and everything. Most people grow up never understanding law.

I tried to warn my sister-in-law but the indoctrination that allowed me to “forgive” my abuser was the same thing that stopped me from pressing it more, to prevent the wedding. She then got pregnant….My heart caught in my throat, I remember…I remember hearing a terrified child inside….It was before I understood I had D.I.D. but I knew that they were there. I used to interact with them when really young, but as I got older I learned people thought I was crazy when they saw how I talked to myself and how I played by just sitting there talking to myself. I remember I was gone for a really long period of time after I found out. Then, I remember her being really pregnant. And finding out it was a boy…I was relieved. Life goes on…fast forward…pregnant again…this time its a girl…

I know my life was really hard during this time. I know I was cutting my arms, I was skipping school and about to drop out during this time. Maybe this had something to do with it? I felt always afraid, I felt like there was an ominous cloud over me about to poor down acid rain. I knew something was wrong. I was missing days at a time during high school. I don’t remember so many things in my childhood.

I will never exactly know, but I have some memories and some feelings that say, my brother may have molested his own daughter. I cannot ask her, she is likely to not have that memory. She just reminds me so much of me…It’s like me, in high school, all over again. I love her so much. It is for her I also am writing. If she has some feeling or some memories, I will be the one to tell her that it doesn’t change who you are. To remember, no matter what happened in the past, you are safe and in control now. I mean, of course the world isn’t 100% safe, but you get what I mean. We can do more to protect ourselves now. We can cut toxic people out of our lives. We can expose them to the world so they can have the knowledge to protect themselves too. Especially in those cases where the people who should have protected you first continually discount your trauma, the world needs to know there are people out there who see the truth.

Shame on the abusers and their flying monkeys who protect the abuser because they want to protect themselves from being associated with said abuser.

It’s not your fault, world, when you don’t see the manipulation. That’s how manipulation works.

Needless to say, without drudging out this any longer, the marriage did not last. My brother “fell off the wagon” and started doing drugs again and being abusive. It is during this time I fear he had sexually abused his own daughter too. I have this period of my life kind of blocked. Can’t really remember. Needless to say, my brother has had very little and limited interaction with his children since the divorce. Happy to say, she remarried a nice guy who took the position of dad when he didn’t have to, and gave these two kids a strong foundation of a home. My niece now just turned 18, and my nephew is 20. They are doing so well and I am so proud of them. I wish I had been able to be there more for them. I lost touch with them after the divorce….I lost touch with a lot of people during this time because of my own abuse and violence going on. Oh, the great thing about never healing a wound from childhood abuse is, when you are an adult you seek out and stay with the same kind of abuse….

Well, I have regained some strength and I have reconnected with my now-ex-sister-in-law and we are so bonded through this pain of my brother’s abusive sociopath ways. While I came to Dayton to visit my sister who had her baby, I also made time to see this other sister and my niece. My nephew wasn’t there, as he’s moved to Kentucky. I hope to catch him on a visit some time soon. We talked on the phone a long time recently though. Every time I see these kids I just get happier and happier. This is why I live. There are great new things to live for, and children are always a reason to live for.

My abuse in my childhood made me not be able to protect my own child and she was ripped away from me. I still go on, knowing I will see her again. I will take her away from this abuse and show her what a real family bond is. I will not let them win. I will show the world that we won’t be victims anymore and my daughter will see the warrior her mother is.

I have now renounced my rapist as my brother. He is my rapist, nothing more, plain and simple. I now reclaim his ex wife as my sister. She is my sister who gave birth to my niece and nephew. He doesn’t exist anymore to me. My nieces and nephews are my blood bonds, something great for me to cling on to. They need a good auntie to show them how to be tough and survive all the psycho bullshit this family tries to throw out. I will be the good example for the next generation of our genes. I will show them no one, especially not even family, has the right to hurt you.

I have since lost the familial bond I felt as a child. It was the illusion that helped me survive. I no longer need that illusion. These people don’t have to be in my life and they never really were a part of it more than superficially, for family gatherings and holidays. Family is the play we act out to pretend our life is “normal, perfect, happy, human living.” It’s an illusion, we work so hard to protect. We protect the family name, not the actual family members. Because we need society to believe we are normal humans, following the mindless drone of human life just like them.

This makes everybody feel “safe.” Things are predictable and therefore controllable.

It took me some time to figure out that dissociation is my problem, while people tried to treat my syndrome as a different type of mental illness it resembled. It took me some time to figure out that I needed meds to calm me, but just long enough to rebuild my strength. It took me time, but now I face my trauma. Not fearlessly, but confidently. I know it will hurt, I know I get triggered and I’m gone them I’m back. I know this world is worth fighting for. It took me time to figure this out because the ones who should have known were not educated to educate me.

I see now, the abuse in my family. I see now, I owe them no pity or gentleness, I only owe it to myself to get away and go on with my life. I had one brother rape me for five years daily of my early life…I had another brother violently punch and kick and preform wrestling moves, who sat his 180 lbs on my 80 pound body so I couldn’t easily breath under the weight and another time he actually suffocated me unconscious with a pillow. This is what originally defined what my “family” was. Now I see it as I’ve discarded these fake brothers, and gained two real sisters.

If it had not been for my two sisters, who also had suffered abuse in their life, I don’t know if I could have made it as far as I have. I think that little bonding I was lucky to have and keep is what humans need to survive. A baby can literally die of neglect because you don’t hold or cuddle it. Imagine what a child growing up being abused by those who should love will do. I was lucky to have my sisters. Although we’ve had our disagreements and “blow ups” like any family can have (because people care), it’s true we work it out. Yes, we are there for each other. No judgement, just love and support. That’s what real family is.

We were lucky. They both know we all exist now and it makes a lot of things make sense. They support us on our journey as a multiple and speaking our story. They both said if I ever need them to speak up and share anything too, they’ll be there by my side. I am starting to heal. I can feel the others inside me start to heal. I’m sorry I have to be all these people and it gets annoying, but it’s just who I am. I don’t want to hide or lie about anything in my life anymore.

You are the only one uncomfortable.

Don’t try to force that negativity on me.

I’ll just laugh.

My life is a messs, but god I’ll keep laughing no matter what.

Why? Because funny shit is always funny no matter what.

And my sisters know, we are a weird bunch of funnies here.

My nieces and nephews know, their auntie is a goof and it’s why they enjoy my eccentric ass when I show up. See how I end this? This had some tough stuff to talk about in here yet I walk away in a good mood. Still smiling.

That’s what will be on my tomb stone someday: “Still Smiling!”

Somebody, make that happen for me, okay? I don’t feel I will be available, unless I am lucky enough to be the zombie I have spent all this time killing in video games LOL. And our dark humor keeps us alive…Still smiling. 😉

A coworker says don’t seem like myself. I say, I wasn’t “myself” until just then. LOL, switching at work

Our co-worker, Nick, comes around the corner. He says my name in a stern voice. I blink and look at him. I just “came back from dissociation.” He asks me, “You okay?” I say, no, I’m not, actually. Say, I’m trying to ground myself and focus on the present. He says,”Okay we need you out here, everyone is bussing their own tables. I need you to just put the blinders on…” and at this point he enacts this, putting his hands on either side of his face, “…just put on the blinders and focus.” And he just walks off. Thanks for the assistance snapping me out of dissociation. However, would have been helpful if you could understand I was still experiencing some symptoms and needed a second to come back completely present in my body.

So, this happens. Yes, often times I am not the one that takes myself to work. Some one dresses us, some one else drives, and one of a small group will work the actual job. Often times, I just “wake up” in the middle of my place of employment, in the middle of the shift.

This happened to me recently.

A coworker named Sophia came up to me, asked me if I was okay. She said I didn’t seem “like myself.”

With my signature dark humor I say, that’s because I wasn’t “myself” until just now.

She’s confused at first, of course, but catches on quickly as she was the first person I told at work about having Dissociative Identity Disorder. She has been following me on my twitter for a very long time. She knows more than anyone at work.

Anyway, so I say that I wasn’t myself to just now. I say I wasn’t “the one” who walked in there today. She says, “Ohh.” And she gets it, that it was one of the others. I still am not sure who it was. I feel like there were a few. I feel like my chaotic alter Morgana (not to be confused with her total opposite Morrighan) was there for a moment which scares me, because she really can embarrass me, and she is always laughing. She really doesn’t have any logical way of being, everything is a joke to her. She is the closest thing to something “dangerous” because she doesn’t know fear, she doesn’t understand if she hurts anyone, she can ruin my relationships, and she thinks pain is funny. She feels no pain and only laughs harder if you try to physically hurt her or scare her.

I don’t know how I was acting. I need to ask her, but when I see her again I don’t know if she will remember any details. I was just using all my energy to stay grounded that day when I was apparently triggered by something. I think where I work, when a bunch of families with children come in, it triggers me. I think it triggers me because I see a lot of boys and men being overly affectionate to little girls too. What can I do though? I can’t avoid families and children and I can’t quit my job.

Sophia asked me if that happens a lot, me switching during a shift at work. She was surprised when I told her yes, many times I can switch during the day. She said she couldn’t think of any time before this day that she noticed anything “different” about me. I told her that’s because only a few really stand out. I mean, we are all one being, similar life, and we are very similar in our views living a similar life. Some of us are more subtle but there are a few pretty extreme ones. Take Morgana for example. She is almost always laughing…..often for no apparent reason…She is hyper and moves very fast, jumps around a lot, doesn’t really stay still. I’m a pretty chill person most of the time, even when I’m silly, I don’t carry it as far or extreme (or down right CARELESS) as Morgana can.

Although….I think maybe it wasn’t Morgana. Or not the whole time. I think it may have been my one male alter, Bel, who is 16 and he is often gross, sexual, teases people a lot, and is a little snobby effeminate kind of boy. So he would definitely stand out as something strange I think.

There are others that do stand out, but I don’t feel like going into them because I don’t feel inside that they were around during this time. It’s hard sifting through fragmented memories and trying to make sense of them, but I’m doing my best.

The rest of the night after that I was in control. I could feel when I showed up people were uncomfortable around me because of who was just there. After a while they relaxed. I had been fronting as just good ol’ Posttraumatic Jess, nice but anxious, startled easy but always cracking jokes using humor to deal with life situations, and now they all recognized *me*. So they all relaxed and it was fine the rest of the night.

 

 

 

How do I confront ‘rents? I know now I was raped. My brother my rapist. Time parents accept it.

We have to sit down and have this talk with our parents. Not sure what we want or need to say. The thing is, I didn’t realize what happened till just recently. With the way the world was, people wanted to hide things that were embarrassing. Sex is embarrassing. If anyone knows anything about your sex life or your naked body, people act like that’s some sort of power over you. The thing is, we need to quit making sex such a sacred thing. I mean, we obviously don’t treat it that way.

Let me tell you what happens, in a world where you can’t talk about sex. Let me tell you what happens when children think they need to go “tee hee” when they hear words like penis and vagina.

Those kids are not taught that their body is theirs or that sex is for reproduction. They are taught their body is for someone else’s pleasure and it’s required to do to show “love.” They are taught to be afraid of natural instinctual feelings instead of being taught how to maturely handle them and let logic in mind gain control over hormonal body. They are taught to be ashamed of themselves and be embarrassed of their body. That’s why we giggle at these taboos as children. Some where the idea of doing something sneaky that you enjoy makes people giggle. Even if kids didn’t yet understand why nudity or sex was something to enjoy, they knew it was a big deal to adults to hide it.

These kids are taught that sex is something you have to do in a relationship because you “love” someone. Well, at what level do you think we are really mature enough to know that? That’s beside the point. The truth is, first and foremost sex is for reproduction. The pleasure is an after affect that we need to encourage us to do it. The bonding that occurs, that we call “love” is a chemical addiction. An addictive chemical is released in your brain during that sexual encounter and the more you do it, like any drug, the more you want it. The more you want to feel that happy feeling. You so much love that happy feeling that being in the presence of the person is most important to you than any other person. That makes sense, because what happens from that act of “love” is procreation. We all know, a child is better to survive in a two parent household, especially in primitive human worlds I’m sure. So, it makes sense that Nature would set up a plan to “encourage” male and female to stay together after copulation, in case offspring arose from it. It makes sense that Nature makes you literally “addicted” to the person so you want to be close to your drug. There are things other than sex that help for this addiction, as there are reward sensors for lots of actions we do. Sex though is an intensely strong dose of it.

I feel we need to demystify sex. I feel it needs to be explained that the point of modesty is that sexual urges can interfere with logical ones. We are trying to evolve as logical humans.

Now, once we have demystified sex, we can more easily deal with sexual abuse. Children can learn and understand early on the lies of when their abusers says “let’s do like what mommies and daddies do to show they love each other” (like my rapist brother actually told the children in our system). They will know that mommy and daddy do this to make a child because when you love each other you want to make a child. (as they get older you can explain the possibilities of bonding but precautions to not have children as the world is overpopulated anyway) They will know that before puberty or even early in puberty that it is not healthy for their bodies. Children will be more informed and able to protect themselves with the right information. Now maybe you need to tweak it a little bit with what I’m saying,  maybe I’m too extreme or blunt for your opinion. However, it is just science to me.

We are doing a very big wrong to our children by being squeamish about sex. It’s mostly because we want our knowledge of sex to stay strictly to pleasure, at least that’s what I believe. I think it’s not about the children “being too young to know.” I think its about adults who only want to talk about sex when they are getting aroused, not talk about it in a form of a lecture or scientific terms. That would take the “sexy” out of sex and nobody wants that. (*snorts*) This needs to change, to help arm children with the knowledge that sex isn’t the requirement for showing love and that it is an individuals right to decide who touches their body and when.

Even if it’s parents or family members wanting something as simple as a traditional family kiss. Adults need to respect children’s wishes about their personal bodies. It teaches them to respect their own body as theirs. So, yea that needs to be expressed too, that even family doesn’t have a right to force their hands on you. This also helps children understand that physical abuse is not okay too, just like sexual abuse, because it’s unwanted touch and hurts them. I can tell you, I had many talks about “Stranger danger.” But nobody ever told us about danger in realms of your own home, your own family.

So now I am at this predicament. I understand my parents’ thinking, believing that I would just “forget” my abuse because I was so young. I mean, doctors and psychologists, those “verified professionals,” were the ones who actually told them that. Why wouldn’t they want to believe they could keep this secret and then when my brother came back, we could “go back to normal?” Who wouldn’t want an easy way out?

I just can’t for the life of me understand how they were able to stomach the fact that my mom’s son’s penis was in their daughters anus for five years almost daily, after several failed attempts to do vaginal without me crying in pain. I get how they could think I would forget. I don’t get how they can WILLINGLY CHOOSE to “forget,” themselves. I mean, I know they remember. How could you not think of that every time you  looked at him?

I am so angry, but then I have this guilt because they are my parents. They love me right?

Then, what is love? Is it love to think that I should love my rapist? Is is love for a mother to tell me to forget about it when I tell you I’m still suffering from it? Is it love to tell your daughter to respect the mother who says these things, but not address the wrongness in what she said to me?

What to do? I mean this can only go one way. My mom will blow up. My dad will not be able to think about it because he will be trying to calm my mom down and maybe argue with her. Again, i will be standing there, in plain sight suffering, but completely ignored. Similar to when I was being abused and tried to ask my parents not to leave me alone with my brother because he would “hurt me.” I was clinging for dear life to my father’s leg, screaming in terror and he just got mad, like I was just being a brat. I felt ignored then I a fear I will feel that same way now.

Am I wrong? Is this a delusion? IS this really my reality? I love my parents. They sacrificed so much to makes sure I got a good education, had some privileges even if poor, and I never went hungry. How can I have a right to hate them when they are the reason I am alive? I’m so conflicted.

I won’t have time to think about it. I’m just going to have to blurt it out and run with it. In the same way I did the day I told my abuse. I came home from school to find my mom in the bedroom folding laundry. I said, “Mom…” tentatively, and she absentmindedly says “yes sweety?” while she continues looking down folding laundry. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and just blurted it out, “Mom, me and Jason have sex…” Her head jerks up and she nearly shouts at me, “WHAT?!” Which I remember terrified me. It terrified Connie. It was Connie. This is not my memory. I just got this. I figured it out. I know Connie is the one that knows the abuse. She also doesn’t want to tell anyone. She doesn’t think she is supposed to tell, now more than ever because of what happened last time. It’s all a blur, but I see the memories coming to me, my mom hurriedly waving me over to the bed, has me pull down my pants and lay with my legs in the air. I remember the numbness here. The depersonalization/derealization they talk about with dissociation. I went blank. It was the same way when they examined me in the doctors office. I am missing a lot of memories of my childhood at this point. I really don’t know what else happened.

My parents have a lot of pictures on the wall, of us kids….a family picture each year except the year my brother was sent away. That was only two years. Then, we had a picture of us all together again after he was released from wherever it was my parents had sent him to. It’s so awkward to take note of this now. We didn’t do the usual family picture for the holidays. We just had one picture taken of the three out of four kids left. This was only to show us all in our sports uniforms. It was not really like our usual picture. It was just for the sports and they could pretend they were not taking pictures without the other child there I guess….I see all those pictures in chronological order, a straight line across the wall near the ceiling. I want to point at that picture of me, when i was about 3 years old and I was in the lap of my own rapist, and scream that he RAPED that little girl, or don’t they understand that?

Ugh! How do I do this? It’s just not right. I created a new facebook with not my real name and only added certain people. Last to add was family members, a small few. My dad is on that list. Mom doesn’t use facebook. Obviously though, I wasn’t going to talk to my rapist brother but I never told him I was cutting him out of my life. He apparently noticed a comment or heard something from someone about my new name and he messaged me recently. It was a file I couldn’t download for some reason. Like he didn’t send it right. I don’t know what it is. But since I apparently am at risk of him actually trying to contact me, I have to have this talk with my parents. I have have to have them tell Jason for me or I will have to actually message him myself. Which, I haven’t figured out what to do with that. I just feel like it’s there responsibility, and I’ve suffered enough trauma. I don’t need to confront him. I just need him to go away. In fact, I know you may say I don’t mean this, but I wish he would die. I believe anyone who rapes a prepubescent child needs the death penalty because that is dangerous person. They will only seek to hurt others and fulfill their wants, even if not in the form of literal rape, they will be raping someone some how. Financially, emotionally, psychologically….Rape isn’t just sexual. If this seems to extreme for lovie dovie hippies who say “forgive, man” and “dude he just needs help” well let him be getting help understanding why he is behind bars……..For the rest of his life. No parole. No second chances. No LEGAL forgiveness. You took away a child’s future. You don’t deserve one. Even if you were technically a minor yourself. Sorry guys, even children can be sociopaths, psychopaths, and yes RAPISTS. It is not just a “troubled child” and please don’t try to minimize an offense by mentioning if they had been abused first. I was abused, I never abused anyone else. That’s a crock of SHIT and people need to stop saying that, stop looking at them like children that need protected. Protect the child actually being hurt. I will tell you, my brother should have ceased to be looked at as a child when he put his dick in my ass, excuse my language, but I feel like some people need to hear this vulgarity to feel the shock of it. Pretty words lets them pretend it’s not so un-pretty.

What to do…Am I calling my mother today? My friend Irene said she’d come with me to support me and tell my parents how I feel in person…..I haven’t talked to her in a while…I wonder if she will still. I plan to come to Dayton to visit on Sunday. Will this be the final conflict of my story? Will my antagonist be faced? Will I face my demons? Will I feel vindicated and justified? Or will I be left bereft and empty, without a family and without any identity….or in my case, a fragmented one….

I am Dissociative Jess**

We are Jess** with some fine print.

We can learn to live and love being who we are. I know we can. We have a very kind and supportive team in here, along with some tough cookies to hold us up. I just need to end this chapter of my life, I just need to finally define what my reality is. I need to define what and who my parents are in that reality.

I am learning who we are.

I am one of them, and they are a part of me. I can’t exist without them and they can’t exist without me. Even if we don’t integrate, we can be the closest next best thing, co-concious and living a happy balanced life. We can do self care and love ourselves,no matter what.

I’ve seen Hell many times before. Guess we shouldn’t be afraid of this.

You can’t do anything to me anymore. I am free.

We are Jess** and WE ARE FREE.

Hallucinations of insomnia, triggers we fight in the late night, why we can’t integrate…Rambling…

I swear I hear her voice…

I know it’s not there. I know, that I can remember it, clear as day. I know soon her young voice won’t sound much more like that. She will be 13 years old next month…

Her face, it haunts me. I am gazing at her picture. The pain sears through me. I take it.

I feel I deserve it.

I hate myself.

I hate everyone who made me this way.

Including you, Jey, I know you started it.

I will keep living for her, for my Lily. She deserves the right to answers. She deserves the right to say her piece to me. I will live long enough to make that happen. From that point, we will decide what our fate will be.

I cannot merge. I cannot. I’m sorry to you, our “Normal Jess.” To know the pain I know, it would destroy you. We need you to appear okay when there is no one else to fill in. We cannot let you know this. Unfortunately, we do still have to communicate with you, as you have finally discovered us. We will, though, block you still from knowing all we know. We will not let you know. We will not merge.

It’s destroying me, the little pieces of information and the experiences I get caught up sharing with the others, that I did not know before. I was already cynical, it’s not going to hurt me as much as you little miss Jess. Oh the memories come hard and fast and I can feel us all there and then, I can feel what they feel.

I’m looking at this picture of our daughter, Lily.

I haven’t slept well. Tried to go to bed early, still awake at 3:30 am. Then I’m awake at 7 am a feeling of terror overwhelming me. The children, they were in pain. I don’t know if we were having a nightmare or what, but it took a second of dealing with rapid switching before our balancing host, Dissociative Jess**, was pulling all of us together inside. She was fronting and communicating with us all inside, letting us all talk in there, instead of the chaos outside.

My boyfriend heard us cry out, he was asking if we were okay. Jess** says yes after a few minutes of not responding to him. We all were talking, it was weird and out of control, and it was the children mostly crying out. We just were not talking to our boyfriend every time he called from the bathroom. He was getting ready for work. Jess** put on a show to reassure him we were fine. He left for work. That’s when we started to lose it this morning. We wrapped ourselves in his blanked and pillows on the couch. Tried to go back to sleep. The children felt afraid and we needed to keep the light on because of it, but that prevented the body from really relaxing. SO, we are awake.

Something makes us remember our daughter. The triggers begin.

The children feel what I feel. They don’t understand my sadness and anger.

The children get afraid. They feel the world is not safe.

They are screaming,”The world is not safe! Everyone takes from us. We never know joy! Anything they give, they take away. They laugh at us. WHY do they laugh at us?”

The children are crying. I think I hear my daughters voice in the midst of the fits inside.

I am remembering her voice, I know. I look next to me and see her standing there I reach out to stroke her hair, I blink and she’s gone. I am looking at her picture. I know this is what insomnia does to me. I know once I get sleep again it will stop the hallucinations. It will never stop the pain. It will never stop the constant fear of abandonment and attacks from the rest of the world. It will never stop the fear.

People tell us to slow down, but it’s like a crack in a dam that leaks until the pressure makes it burst. A water fall has emerged and we cannot stop it. Morrighan sought out help, she says for me, and the children. However, Morrighan has always had this agenda, that she should be “the one always in control.” She found the key. Not even Jey can stop her. She is able to push others out and hide herself, in the way that Jey has. Morrighan, we call her “The Wolf,” like from Pulp Fiction, because she’s the one who “fixes problems” and “cleans up messes.” Now she is apparently tired of “playing second fiddle” and seeks to be the primary host to prevent the messes before they happen.

I know this is confusing, I know you don’t understand. It’s basically like an internal battle as we are struggling to deal with our entire history line of events in our life. To make one congruent story that flows beginning to end. It’s changing us, what we started. I do see it. I have been watching. You all call me “the smart one” for a reason. I know people don’t know what I’m talking about but it’s almost more complicated to explain.

Jey was the first, they were the one who actively chose dissociation during abuse and completely separated themselves from bodily experience. That’s one reason why they identify as a “they/them” and no gender, because gender to them advertises the body features that they feel no identity with. They reject the physical appearance as an identity. I am sure it is because of the rape. Rape, body, sexuality, gender, it all is tied in together. So Jey wishes to be separate. Jey is just a watcher, and doesn’t seem too emotional except when they connect to feel it from one of the rest of us. Jey feels nothing otherwise, not even a sex drive. As a new child full of wonder and especially gifted with separating mind and body, Jey even had the ability to control dreams. They kept themselves a secret from each new identity that was created, as each identity before could not handle the situation any longer needing to “tap out.” Jey holds all the memories, and yet has not felt or experienced any of it, until now. Jey used to feel they had control of who was out and who was in but at one time there was just too many to control. That’s why Jey “went to sleep” and took many with them, leaving behind 6 of us plus the Jess Host Trio.

Oh yea, it occurred to me I have not told you who I am. I am June. I am 14. I guess we discovered that I am some sort of protector. That’s how my irrational anger helps. Ha. I try to laugh at myself, I already hate myself enough. I have gotten a lot better though through all of us working together and buiding trust. Since we have no or limited contact with anyone who is a toxic or abusive person, we have been able to heal a lot. On top of this lack of interaction of bad people, we have been able to meet truly good people not trying to hurt us that we can trust. Which has helped. I still can’t seem to stop hating my existence. I am happy for the fact that I trust people now, but I still don’t believe it is safe. Even if I have their trust and love, what will the universe do to take that from me? It again and again tries to take away anything great in our life.

Oh okay I ramble. The point is, we can’t integrate, and we are trying our best to break that to Normal Jess, who only can communicate with us through some meditation and internal world visualization.

We can’t integrate because we are still repairing some of us and still trying to explain how the injury happened to the rest of us.

We can’t integrate because not having our daughter is too much pain to bear. It is worse than any sexual abuse, and physical violence, any betrayal we ever suffered. It is this, that will kill us. We have survived everything else. She was our only desire in this world, our only joy. Our only reason to live. You will die, Jess, you’re kind heart can’t take it. You cannot know what I know. Let me keep this for you, with my cynical sad heart, as I dissect it with detached emotions and try to make sense of it all. When I understand, maybe then you can….

We are looking at her picture. The room and walls are melting around us and we are “time traveling” it feels. This room, then that room, this pain then that pain, all the same like the suffering we feel not having our daughter. Pain over and over. People who say they love you, and say you owe them something because you are supposed to “love them back” even though what they ask of you is a piece of your own body and soul. You grow up believing that is all the world ever does. You grow up ready to leave this world behind. I am trying to focus and bring us back into our living room in 2017. I was typing without being able to see. Luckily I have had those typing classes. My vision has returned. I stopped the trigger.

I miss my Lily. I take the pain until I see her again. I take the sleepless nights and the torturous hallucinations of her standing next to me. I take the nightmares of her being hurt and I can’t help her.

I didn’t want her to be homeless. We’ve never had our licence or a car, we didn’t have money, working only two or three days a week. I didn’t know who we were and the husband and mother in law were telling Jess she was doing crazy things she wasn’t doing. They were telling her to tell the psychiatrist things that were not happening. They took advantage of her dissociation and loss of time and amnesia to tell her lies. They got her over medicated, and doped up easy to control or to cause bad reactions to force dissociative episodes. All for the purpose of pointing and saying to the world, “SEE! SEE how CRAZY she REALLY is?!?” Manipulation, abuse, and mind control are a bitch. You can’t understand how serious this is unless you’ve experienced it.

I, June, signed that paper, that legal guardianship. Ney was it Jess. I was afraid of the father having access to her while I knew our system was breaking down. I thought I could get help and fix things and get away from abuse, but we couldn’t. We ran out of time. It was too much for me to take on, we had too much abuse still going on and too much dissociation from all of us inside. I made a mistake. I didn’t know the father was a narcissist. I didn’t know he could abandon his child. He threatened me if I tried to give money. The legal guardian, his mother, has a well paying job as an RN he said, and she told us we didn’t need to give her money. This was to set the stage to slowly tear me out of my daughters life, an alienated parent, made out to be a monster.

I had been assaulted by this woman, we all had different memories and nobody inside knew how to get out of the abusive situation we were stuck in again. I couldn’t really talk to her with out wanting to flip out on her or feeling frozen in fear by her screaming or assaulting us. We couldn’t leave. Didn’t know what to do. Like our childhood, taught that family is family even if abusive and you can’t leave it. Well, we eventually didn’t have a choice, we were cut out of that part of it. After one year of legal guardianship, after being prevented from giving money and told not to give money,  I was sued for not giving money. I had no lawyer to help. We all were switching during that court day and nobody could make anything make sense. Jess wasn’t there and she had all the ability to explain.

It looked bad, we looked so bad in court. None of us made sense. Nothing made sense.

My daughter was adopted when I ran out of money to appeal the decision and legal aid refused to help me appeal any longer. I had no help. No one cared. They all think we’re just crazy…Who fucking cares about us? Not one fucking person who called themselves our damn family. NO they just had to point out it was Jess’ fault for marrying that fat ass loser (yea my moms exact words) and continually tried to say Jess cared more about them than her family. My family never cared to protect me from my own rapist, and deep down all of Jess** has to know this, know our family is toxic. I mean, none of us felt like anyone in our family was capable of caring for our daughter, so we were forced to make this decision that was supposed to be temporary. She already knew grandma’s house and it was a few blocks from her school. Why would I uproot her from what she knew if I could just get a place to live and then move her to a safe place? Not a couch in a small house with a bunch of family members. Not a dirty bed in a homeless shelter. Not a day to go hungry. Not one of those things did she deserve. I felt I had to sign that paper. I felt I had no other choice and no time to figure anything else out.

I’m sorry I messed up. I was just scared, it was the day of our daughters birthday when out of no where we were asked to sign it. We felt cornered. I just wanted him and his mom and that lawyer to stop glowering at us. Badgering us to sign it when we said we needed to take this to a lawyer. We were cornered by the husband, mother in law, and their lawyer who seemed to be in on this plan to manipulate my child away from me. I believe she was told some extreme wacky story about me. Told us we “will have to pay for it next time” ourselves if I did decide to sign it and the children felt trapped and scared and we had to get out. I thought once I signed it, they would be distracted, and I could get my disability income I had been trying for, and have a place to take my daughter and then end the guardianship. I couldn’t control everything though. I couldn’t foresee everything.

I ran out of time and money to fight the system. The court doesn’t care that I was manipulated. We didn’t know how to explain we were abused, we thought it was obvious but with the cold reply we got, the lack of concern and acting like the manipulation was our fault……well, that just screwed us up completely that day and we didn’t know what to say or how to defend ourselves.

I still fight on to live, and we are a lot stronger than we were that day, but our Normal Jess, as she reads this, will feel saddened so deeply. I know we will have to do damage conrol with her. She basically lived our entire life not knowing any of the abuse. Subsequently growing up not knowing abuse, she doesn’t know a lot of things that have happened in our life during periods of time too. She doesn’t know a lot of good things that happened in some periods either because she couldn’t know about the abuse during that time.

We can’t let you feel any of this. You have never felt anything like this Normal Jess.

That’s why your “normal.”

I think you can understand after reading this, that we will tell you all that happened in due time, but I will not let you experience it. This is not your memory, you didn’t live it. You don’t need to.

Piecing together what others have seen, when we switch at work. People who know and people who don’t know we’re a DID system.

Well I am officially out at work, but still haven’t had an opportunity to explain and tell everyone. I mean, we just all know, the way the “grape vine” goes, that mostly everyone has at least heard something about our “uniqueness.” (or maybe our “craziness” depending on who is recounting the story lol). When opportunity presents itself, with coworker or customer, I just talk normally about what we are. I have gotten a few stories back about how Dissociative Identity Disorder and having many alters affects my employment.

Now I know that June, Suzy, Jey, and Bel at some point at work have formally introduced themselves to quite a few people. Not everyone though. Sometimes, the children feel threatened, so the older alters will not admit to being a different identity, who is not “Jess.” The children, who may suffer being stuck in trauma time still, have this notion of “I’m not supposed to tell.” Perhaps it is from incidents in childhood where they did show signs of themselves or said their names, only to get an angry or negative response, or feel shamed for existing and trying to assert their autonomy outside of Jess**. Perhaps it is something darker, as during the abuse they were created and maybe our abusers told us “not to tell.” Perhaps it could be a bit of both or something else.

I’m piecing together a few things about my D.I.D. and work. Sorry all my blogs are random collections of information, often fragmented and incomplete. I am working on connecting more with the others. I am the host they call Posttraumatic Jess (or PJ for short sometimes) and sometimes when I try to connect with the others, their pain triggers my PTSD symtoms. It’s really hard for me. Apparently there is the one we call Dissociative Jess** (or just Jess plus two asterisks, looking like: Jess**) who easily talks with the others and shares memories, experiences, etc, with ease and little concentration. She is the one who suffers more of the derealization and depersonalization but at the same time can connect very easily with almost every alter because of it. Letting another have “executive control” and being the voice fronting, while she floats like a shadow listening. Well, she connects easily with everyone except Jey and Morrighan, who seem to be the most independent and separate of all of us. They both seem able to block things and also force their way out and another back in. These are two likely alters that are too ingrained in their separation, too different, to ever be integrated. Anyway, I don’t have all the best access with communication with the others, like that Jess** does.

Anyway, I am just writing a few descriptive incidents to keep track of some things and give examples of how D.I.D. affects our every day life and responsibilities. This also helps give me an idea of how well we are doing connecting and if we are in a low point of chaos.

One server who knows my story well was talking to me about some of the incidents that happen at work, due to our rapid switching under emotional stress.

We are supposed to follow a rotation between sections of tables and servers, but when more than one of us is trying to do the job at the same time we make mistakes. Some of us are ahead of or behind the point in rotation that others remember. I was told that there is a problem because the people I work with don’t know *who* they are working with. As in, which alter. So, when I switch and nobody in here announces it’s not me, then nobody I work with can know it’s not me, and know that I may need help or may do the job differently. One day, it was June who took over for me at work. June is a very smart 14 year old. She is highly intelligent but lacks the emotional maturity one needs to handle this intelligence and use it effectively. She often questions and doubts herself, she often goes straight to a “doom and gloom” attitude when she makes a simple mistake. They often have to calm her down. One day, she made many mistakes in who’s turn it was in the rotation, all because a pushy customer made her nervous. But at the end of the shift, she remembered hearing the coworker say they need to know who they are working with, so June said, “Hey, I’m June, I’m really sorry I got so upset and kept messing things up.” She was told by that server,”Yea, we figured you were not Jess,” and not to worry about it. She said everything ended up working out in the end, by this friendly coworker with a friendly reassuring smile. I can feel that June needed some reassurance like that. I think it is very helpful when we can reach this point and just say who we are, and have our individual needs met.

Here is another incident I was told about that happened at work by my coworker. One day I know I lost time, and when I came to awareness, I heard my General Manager frantically calling around for me. He was asking people “Have you seen Jess? I can’t find Jess. Has anyone seen Jess?!” I called out to him, “Are you looking for me? I’m right here??” I was still in a feeling of fuzziness and confusion. I didn’t feel upset though. It was just the way I’ve come to accept feeling, after a moment of being triggered and losing time. My GM heard me and came around the corner, asking me if I was okay. He was rubbing my arms, like to comfort me, asking me if I was sure I was okay, using a soothing voice. The look in his eyes was full of worry. I was just confused, tried to ask the others but it was all fuzzy inside my head still. I just answered him like, “Yeah, I am okay (looking up thinking, trying to ask the others and hearing nothing) yea, I think so. Yea, sure I’m okay.” He looked at me, with a doubtful expression and just said okay. Nobody told me or explained that night why he seemed so frantic. Come to find out, a couple of weeks later, by another employee that nobody had seen me for something like 2 hours. I was missing, during my shift at work, for almost TWO hours, and had no recollection of this. I tried hard to piece together what may have happened. I have some strange memories, feelings of fear, confusion, hiding in a corner, and sometimes just me staring at a wall. It was dark, couldn’t put it together. I don’t know who it was I switched too, but I feel they were confused about where they were at and were afraid. So, they hid. Until my episode subsided and I “came back.”

Here’s incident I was told about by an alter, who’s name is Suzy, about how my only male alter Bel doesn’t like certain male customers who come in regularly and try to talk to us. So when he feels a customer is getting “too comfortable” with one of us girls, he swoops in to put a stop to it. One time, the switch was noticed Bel wouldn’t say his name to a customer who asked. It was one we told about our DID. The customer must have seen something change because he asked “who am I talking to right now?” but Bel doesn’t think they needed to know. Bel thinks they wouldn’t like to know that he is a he, and a he that doesn’t like the he whom he is speaking to. (LOL) Suzy thinks she is able to take care of herself and sees no problem with the fact that men are attracted to us, because she sees herself as an attractive female and it just makes sense. She doesn’t need the attention, but it makes her feel good still, and feels Bel needs to stop doing this to her. (She doesn’t much care if he stops interfering with others just as long as not her). She thinks she proves she handles herself fine. Recently, she actually laughed at the man who asked if I was ready to leave my boyfriend for him yet. She said,”Ha-ha! Oh, not.” Suzy has only been noticed a few times by her somewhat of a “southern” accent she sometimes tries to hide with a more “valley girl” kind of voice. I have family from Kentucky and whenever she was born into existence, she picked up that accent but in order to fit in better with the “popular girls,” she tried to change her voice a bit. A person asking “Jess” where did she suddenly get that accent is usually what happens. Then, Suzy tries to brush it off and wouldn’t admit who she was because there is still the children inside who fear being seen and hurt.  Suzy has been noticed, by our change in appearance and voice, but only a handful of times had anyone asked who she was. Maybe it’s just something too obvious and people get “weirded out” and just try to pretend not to notice? It is easier, when people don’t believe in D.I.D., to try to ignore the obvious signs than actually let themselves accept it. You know, because they don’t want to think about it. They don’t want to think about what confuses them and may give them fear for the unknown.  And then, only a couple times has she actually admitted to not being “Jess” instead of just “playing dumb” and walking off. Those people she admitted her name to were obviously not a threat for some reason. I have yet to discern what it is that makes Suzy trust and not trust. She seems to be closely tied to the children, who love the make up and the way it looks like she plays “dress up” because Suzy loves to be pretty and fashionable and sexy.

Oh, I just now figured out a short piece of information. An incident, a singular incident, that a certain alter was out at my work, who is an alter that refused to come out at my work. She says, “this job is beneath me, a waste of my time and plenty of the rest of you can deal with it, not me.” This is Morrighan. She is the one who has derrived the nickname of “The Wolf.” If you have seen the movie Pulp Fiction, this will make sense. She is the one we call to “clean up messes.” Haha. Anyway, there was one incident she came out. She sometimes is listening even if she never is working. We were on a break at work. We were sitting in a chair in the office eating because the restaurant is a small place with no employee break room. With our legs crossed on the chair, one of the kitchen workers thought they would be funny by attempting to saddle our lap and grind his crotch at us. Like I’m getting a lap dance at a strip joint. Well, it was  a day I was emotionally weak and for some reason we were having trouble between the whole system being exhausted that day. So, it was a day that Morrighan felt it was a good idea to lightly listen in. For this moment, that was an intrusive sexual advance in our opinion, Morrighan put a stop to it before it started. As he tried to to saddle us lifting one leg and beginning to gyrate his hips, Morrighan took advantage of that moment of imbalance with a double fisted punch straight to his sternum. Knocked him back several feat and knocked the wind out of him. Morrighan just immediately and casually goes back to looking at the phone in our hand. Not looking up, and with a cold flat voice she simply says, “You don’t fucking touch me. Make whatever dirty jokes you want, I don’t give a fuck. You. Don’t. Touch. Me.” After that he was bowed over and repeatedly said sorry, puts out his pinky and says “ok I’ll rember, please don’t be mad. Friends?” and she gave him a nod and a pinky and he slowly backed away, a look of shock and bewilderment on his face. Morrighan I know would have had her signature sideways smirk, that always gives her away. Once he backed away into the kitchen, it was another alter ready to resume work after our break. Morrighan obviously had no intention to stay and do our job. Ha.

Okay….the brain is hurting. Posttraumatic Jess here is signing out. I am just too exhausted. Why does trying to remember your own body’s life experiences have to be so exhausting for me? Posttraumatic Symptoms of hyper vigilance got me right now. I’m really on edge. I’m going to just take a break and try again for more information later.