Ramblings of dissociative state triggered by my aunt’s death tonight. RIP Aunt Em </3

I’m swirling in chaos with a death in the family. I’m so disconnected. I feel surreal. I don’t know what year I’m in. I can’t really put my past together. I can see faces and not remember names. I have this recollection of “facts” of my life but none of it sounds right. Doesn’t feel “like me” and doesn’t make sense to me.

I loved my aunt. I have wonderful memories of thanksgiving at her house. I hear the children inside our system. Their voices and their tears. I struggle to not lose control and fight this state. I hear the little ones inside with their reminiscing of joys and now they mourn the loss of this “safe place” we remembered. This begins the triggering….

This death means more than just losing my aunt to me. It frightens me to a state  of dissociation, by a lack of control in reality. It feels like life wisps by at high speeds but I’m stuck in slow motion (I’ve had nightmares like this). My aunt was only 59. My dad is ten years older than her, as the oldest sibling in his family he should not be seeing this little sister pass so suddenly. My cousins, the 3 daughters of my aunt Em, are all younger than I. They already lost their dad decades ago so young, in our childhood. The youngest grew up never knowing her dad. She’s just barely 22 and now she has neither parents. My heart breaks for them and I wish to be there to comfort them. I love my cousins so much, they will never know that they helped keep me alive and surviving through my childhood. Anyway… It is unfortunate how life happens this way. I’m accepting of death yet this situation has me triggered. I’m saddened because my daughter was denied the chance to know this great aunt because people I trusted lied to me to adopt her.

All I can think of is who’s going to die next? Is it going to be me? Will it be my daughter? Is there too much suffering for her to handle and I may I not know if she becomes suicidal? How much more abuse can I take from life? Will my daughter be okay if I were to suddenly pass not seeing her first? Will my parents die before she gets to see her grandparents one more time? How many family members will be left for her to meet when my dear Lily turns 18 in April of 2022, and free from the clutches of a cruel narcissistic abusive paternal grandmother that scammed and abused her already abused and broken mother?

This shouldn’t be happening. This isn’t right. People live life like death doesn’t exist. I get it, don’t stress it. But, to live like it’s not an option makes you make mistakes like forgetting when the last time was you called your aunt or told her merry Christmas. Or, to punish one you are angry at, you keep child from them, denying the impulsiveness of existence that leaves irreversible consequences…..Because we all think we have time…

I am overly sensitive to events in my life and am very fearfully aware of the reality of “life is short.” But when time is erased….when time is taken away from you…You are floating, lost and empty. No connection. No family. No identity. No day or night. No dream or awakened state to differentiate. It’s all one collage floating without meaning but is supposed to be representing your reality.

You float….Alone.

I’m missing my life because of dissociation. I don’t know how much I’ve missed. I can’t feel it. What I am feeling is feeling like a P.O.S. because this illness and life situations I’m stuck in have kept me from seeing family more.

It has kept me from really protecting myself. It kept me from being able to help my child.

It has taken my life from me. Taken my rights to my child from me.

I float….Alone.

It’s not as if there are no wonderful things in my life. I have learned to appreciate things and I have learned to reflect. I have learned to remind myself I am safe and I am okay. The problem is, all the wonderful things in my life I cannot enjoy. In fact, they cause parts of me to feel guilt and other parts to “punish us for being happy without our daughter.” I’m suffering and I’m dying inside as I tear myself apart from the inside out.

Where is my child now? Does she know I’m fighting to live for her?

Does she hate me because her head is filled with twisted lies?

Is she living life ignoring one day I will, too, pass, and time will cease to exist for me far more than the reality of living with dissociation?

How can I help her? How can I help myself?

How do I deal with seeing family at this funeral?

How likely is it that my abuser will be there?

I had cut him out of my life without explanation. But I never considered having to deal with a funeral yet. I can ignore him. I did well enough ignoring my violent abusive brother just recently at my nieces graduation. I just fear the brother who raped me will try to force the situation where we have to speak. How do I handle this?

What if I suffer dissociative amnesia there and no one understands why I don’t remember who they are?

I try to ground myself but I’m afraid. This fear is eating me.

The more I come to reality the more I feel the fear.

So dissociation increases to numb this suffering.

I want my life back.

No, I want my life to start. I never remember feeling.

I’m being broken down to pieces, curled in a ball sobbing with grief of more sadness in my life and reminders of more pain will be in my future. Completely unavoidable sorrows. Completely powerless we feel.

“In death, we must find reason for life. This isn’t your death yet. Get. Up. “

That’s what she says… I hear you there, Morrighan. I’m getting there.

HI MY NAME iS: Bill—Ok so let me tell you about myself… per Jessica’s request.

She wants me to write a blog, so okay here I am writing a blog.


Lets start with introducing myself. Hi. I’m Bill. Also known as “Bel.” I go back and forth. For reasons, not going into right now.

I’m here to write out to explain what I just tried to explain to Jess. We were having a conversation, doing our way of “therapy” and trying to work on this integration of conscious awareness that connects us all  (i say integration of awareness, not identities for a reason. Ask if you don’t get what I mean) We’ve been getting better at co-consciousness but any stress at all throws barriers and walls back up.

I’m typing this on a Notepad document. She can do whatever she wants with it later.

So, let me tell you how I see myself. In my youth, to me my body was a boyish body. I had a penis. I remember masturbating, holding it in my fingers, rubbing up and down. I remember living my life like any little boy. Until puberty came. I realized as I grew, my genitals didn’t seem to match what they should look like. I then realized, as I grew more, that I didn’t just have this penis (now something I was ashamed of because it wasn’t like the other boys) I also had a vagina. This body started menstruation very late, almost age 14. This body never developed any sizable breasts, until after a pregnancy and childbirth too. So for a very long time I had gotten comfortable with my body in a masculine way, but nature began changing my ability to be that. I began to have body image and self hate issues. This is where you see less of me in our life. I always appear to be in a good mood, just wanting to have a good time, but I honestly have always been depressed inside. Not sure of how to deal with the situation I am in. You know, as a multiple and what not, I’m not the only one having say over this body. It’s frustrating to say the least.

It is becoming easier though…Anyway, I’m trying to talk to Jess about my memories and who I am and what it’s like for me to be a 16 year old guy and not feeling like I can look the part, be seen and heard for who I am.

During talking to her, I explained to her that I was actually part of the reason we ended up accidentally pregnant. I didn’t do the act but I said the words to lead us to having a male ejaculate into us until we got pregnant. The reason being was, I wanted to give you a kid before I tried to change the body. Now, I’m not talking surgury or hormones really, or anything that extreme. Just see how muscular I can naturally get it. As well as trying to live life sometimes as me, myself, and be refered to as a “he.” I just want to feel good about myself. However, since having gone through the childbirth actually feminized the body more, it’s making this a bit more difficult. I didn’t really know or think about hips widening or increased breast size (it’s a larger cup than before). And then on top of this, we had injury to hold us back from weight lifting to achieve our goals. With degenerative disc disease, protruding disks in neck and lower back, bone spurs, and chronic pain from it all….yea, lifting weights is a difficult thing. But, we ARE doing it a little, in safe ways. Our strength is increasing and we will soon be increasing weights too. So, I feel if we stick too it, we can conquor chronic pain and get the increased muscles we’d like.

So yea, that’s what I was talking to Jess about. Then after mentioning I encouraged the sexaul encounters to impregnate the body for her baby so I could work on making it masculine after, I decided it was time to come clean about more. One example being, At times I was the one that had put us in a lot of sexual situations that she found uncomfortable (or even sick, twisted, disturbing…or possibly just plain gross, ha.) I explained next the reason why is because I didn’t understand what a healthy sexual relationship was.

Now though, I have been listening to things Jess says, things counselors say. I’ve been doing a little reading. Maybe a little soul searching if you will. I feel through all the hard work this system has been doing, I may actually be healing. You don’t know what I am healing though. Jess didn’t either. So the last thing I “come clean” about, was that I am the one that holds most the memories and experiences of the rape by our brother. How can that be, if I’ve always seen myself as male? Well, in talking with the others who also have memories of abuse (and memories I don’t) you will understand how. These others whose names I shall not say because they aren’t ready to “come out” and talk yet, they know of any attempt he tried to mess with the vaginal area. He never actually did vaginal intercourse with the body as far as I know. Yet I don’t know how far he actually got inserted inside either when he tried. I don’t know if he was too scared to force the sex because she screamed and told him it hurt or what. I just know, basically it was anal sex daily and I am the one that knows all the anal and oral sex…and a few other things I won’t go into here, but you see I will know the most since these things happened most.

The doctors have been looking at the wrong ones of us to find out about most of the sexual abuse. Going about things in the wrong way trying to “baby talk” me like I’m a toddler not a teenager. So I get angry and I don’t want to talk. They don’t think that as a teen I know more than anyone. Actually, I did more than anyone, and did some things willingly. And this is the shame that the others suffer, by my decisions.. And I will admit that I had to undergo some intense therapy to understand that what I was doing was not okay even though I was saying I enjoyed it. I did the anal back then, and even now after the abuse I am the one who enjoys the anal sex we ever have done or ever will do. I’m the one that has these sick fantasies with men that really confuse and sort of gross out Jessica. I’m also into a bit of role playing she is very uncomfortable with. I’m just all around vulgar to her it seems. We are working on this. We have had even a sort of system for sex so far, but it’s changing. I mean, at one point it was quite helpful to have me come out and deal with when a significant other wanted to do anal play. Which for obvious reasons would be upsetting to others, connecting it to abuse.

Although seems to me this new (and seems to be last one) boyfriend is so anti-anal. Haha. My anus or his anus – Nobody goes anywhere near any. Haha. So, it’s been hard for me to make a relationship with him work because I can’t even pretend in the bedroom to get the anal. When he knows it’s me, also it’s made things awkward. Because…well…I, on a technicality, am a guy, presenting as a guy and when I try to kiss him or touch him he sort of rejects it. Because he’s not attracted to guys.

Ha so get this, I was telling Jess how it bothers me that he can’t give me the same affection he gives her. He says I’m “too masculine” and he doesn’t find masculinity like this attractive. He means my attitude, for sure, because, look at us. We are a tiny petite body with many noticable female features (try as I might to desperately hide them). We are essentially, for all intents and purposes, the same body that he enjoys when he is with Jessica (or any other mature female alter). Yet when it’s me, presenting as a man, he doesn’t know how to take it. Even if he has bisexual tendencies it wouldn’t help me because my attitude is not very….delicate, lets say. It’s basically not a gentler or softer or “feminine” presentation. So it’s not very attractive to guy who prefers a mate less “rough and tough” in their demeanor.

We are working on this… I spent a few times opening up about my feelings. Hey, this therapy and self help stuff may actually be working! I learned to just talk and say how I felt rejected by him when I even admitted I had feelings for him just like Jess does, but he couldn’t say the “L” word back to me.

But today…today, he called. Jess doesn’t know this yet. This interrupted my typing out this ramble. And I’m done typing now so I’m just going to end it telling about this. Boyfriend called today during his lunch break and I said right from the beginning it was me. Of course the way he talks to me changes, because guys just naturally don’t talk to others guys with the same tone of voice and gentleness that they do when addressing women. But it was a good convesation that didn’t feel awkward. Then, when he got off the phone I said it….the “L” word….And to my surprise I hear back “I love you to. Ha! There did you here it? I said it back this time.”


And wow. That really has changed my day.

I think I will actually just copy and paste this right into the blog she has set up. Get it out of this notepad and out to the world. That’s what I’m learning to do, how to interact in the world like a “regular guy.” *wink wink* Alright I’m bored with this now. Ask me some questions if you want to know some things or fill in some blanks. Let me know you’re listening. Maybe I’ll think of more to write later. Are you listening….Jess* ?

 The attrocities difficult for a child to convey. Not taken seriously.  Not protected. I dissociate….Trigger warning oh yes.

My mom had anxiety issues from a car crash and never drove again. So my dad had to take her to and from work. My mom’s work was 20 to 30 minutes drive. So it would be an hour round trip most of the time because traffic. Since an hour seemed like such a short time (what could happen in an hour right?) And my dad didnt want to load up four kids for the trip, he left the 11 year old in charge of the 9 year old and a 3 and 4 year old. I was the 3 year old and the only girl. An hour is such a short time…. but a male only needs 2 minutes to ejaculate. So in that time on a daily basis I was molested.  Forced to do oral on my half brother or let him do it to me and was raped anally. He tried many times to do vaginal but I cried too much. If he hurt me too bad it would push me to tell and he couldn’t continue his lie that he “loved me ” I was told, don’t tell mom and dad or he will “beat my ass” on top of being told that this was our special secret and we were doing “what mommies and daddies did in private to show they love each other.” For 5 years.
Until 2nd grade when I told a friend in school who told the class. Of course, which also got back to the teacher and principal, who then tells me I need to tell my parents…… But she doesn’t call child protective services or the police herself. Should I mention I went to a private Catholic School and many teachers were nuns and so was the principal? I believe it was a Friday she first talked to me. She asked me if I told that next monday morning. I had not. She repeated that iiiii needed to tell them because if iiiii didn’t she would have to call the police and my parents and brother might get arrested. Which of course then scares and guilts a little girl to worry about sending her rapist to jail. They never considered I would think of that. It was just the norm to brush sexual abuse under the carpet and I hope me sharing my story helps  bring light to how stigmatizing the victim is such a mistake.


It took me a week to get the courage to tell my mom. I remember clearly what I said. I remember it was right after school because I just talked to the principle one last time before walking home from school. At this point my older brother was in high school. Before we all were in the same building,  kindergarten through junior high 7th and 8th grade all in one small building. Maybe my brother going to a different school is what gave me the courage to start talking about it. Since he was at a different school further away and had to ride on a bus, I had a short gap of time to tell my mom after school when I got home before he he arrived home….
She was in my parents bedroom. Dad was still at work. She was folding laundry. I was standing in the door way… I weakly croak, “Mom?” And she absentmindly replies “yes sweety?” while still looking down at the laundry she is folding…
I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I felt the beat as it ached my heart in my chest… I remember the sounds of the whispers in my mind of the others….”Is she going to do it??? Is she going to pass out? “I was still holding my breath which felt like an hour but I know it was a short half a minute. There were more and louder whispers then of other things too inaudible to separate in the “hiss” of whispers.

“Mom…” I finally started again. But this time it wasnt “me” speaking. I felt detatched again and like floating outside of myself listening to someone else speak. It sounded as a younger self, as i loved English and writing in the 2nd grade. I wasn’t a “cool” kid who could speak slang, I mostly always was proper English at that age (Not so much now that I am older ha..) The voice was like a toddlers and spoke five simple words as quickly as possible..

“…Me and Jason had sex.”

Gasps then silence among the others in my mind. I felt myself standing alone inside my head and inside that doorway.

“WHAT?!” She nearly screams. My eyes were still shut but this startled them open. She frantically waves at me to come over to the bed. She had me pull my pants at my ankles. I lay on the bed with my legs in the air, and 8 year old girl in a position like she is about to have a diaper changed. My mom looked and turned away….. My memory blanks at this moment.

The next memory i have is i wake up and my brother is gone. I don’t know how much time has passed.

I just know by now he is no longer in Dayton, Ohio. He is living in a place for severely troubled teen boys where they don’t just incarcerate you but they give you a more comfortable place and mental health therapy and case management. I believe it was called “The Bob Hope House” in Cincinnati, Ohio. I remember it was right by the Ohio river. It was a beautiful view to see. I loved the river though I feared it at the same time because I can’t swim. It was especially pretty sight at sunset. How do I know what the view looks like outside of “The Hope House?” Well I will tell you….

As part of the compassionate plan to “fix” Jason and not ruin his life with the stigma of a criminal record, they had to be able to bring him back into the family too. So first of all, no other relatives were told that the rape occurred so they could not judge him for that. They only had to pity him and want him to recover from drug use, stealing, and not going to school. Those things are easily forgivable. But before they could even bring him around other family members they had to make sure I was okay with him around me. So on a frequent basis, My parents drove me with them for their visit to see Jason. Here we would meet in a room with his counselor/case manager and we had some therapy sessions. I don’t recall these at all. I dont remember how often it was. Maybe it was only a few times in tbd 2 years he was sent away, maybe it was once a month. Not sure. I do remember the last time a little.


At this point my brother was an adult and had been released from The Hope house. At 18 case management from this “halfway house” helped him find employment and a roommate and an apartment in Cincinnati. I was 10 years old. We drove to Cincinnati to Jason’s new home, his new apartment. I think we met his roommate as he was leaving. I remember waiting for Jason’s counselor to arrive. We all were given refreshments. I remember the lighting looked really yellow and the walls seemed a manilla color. The furniture was light, a gra or white. There were plants and pictures. Jason sat across from me at the other end of a long coffee table. He was in a large armchair. I have no idea what I was sitting on. I know the counselor was sitting directly next to Jason at the end of a love seat close to him. Smiling with his yellow note pad, pen, and clipboard. I remember the briefcase near him on the floor. He was smiling encouragingly at Jason as Jason began, “Sis I need to tell you today that I am sorry I hurt you….” or something along those lines. I don’t remember where exactly my mom and dad were sitting. I feel like I was sitting in a chair alone facing Jason at the end of this long dark glass coffee table. I remember the glass wasn’t black but blue so deep it looked like a midnight sky. I remember imaging the were stars in there. I also know I cut Jason off as soon as he began to speak. I was detached from my body floating around. I heard myself say, “That’s all I wanted to know was that you were sorry!” And I know tears were welling up but I was feeling nothing. Detached. Floating. Jason continues “….you need to know I did it because–” and I hear myself cut him off again, “No Jason I don’t need you to tell me why, I just needed to know that you were sorry…” It was obvious to me that who ever was talking was trying to say that we didn’t want to talk about this. The thing was, it was what JASON needed and that’s what we all were there for. It wasn’t about me feeling safe or my mental well being with my relationship with my brother. This was HIS moment and HIS healing. So… We had to listen…..

…… to which I did not. I don’t know if any of us did listen. But I know we put on that smiling face and we joined in the hugs.

….and time goes on… nobody mentioned it again. Jason lived in that apartment for a little while. But he did eventually move back in… And I still lived there. I do not believe he was ever really alone with me to molest me again. I do believe counseling got something through his head at least enough for him to fear repercussions if discovered. Obviously I had shown i could tell once and I would tell again. It was clear he got off easy and he wasn’t going to take that for granted.

However,  now that I have a better understanding of pedophilia I do wonder and fear, though it was clear I was off limits, he knows his ways work at least a little while and I fear he has used them on someone new. Someone weaker. I fear I have knowledge of another child who was abused and told me…… But dissociation blocked the memory because it triggered my own unresolved issues.  Until I can heal I can not really know what I do and do not know. One thing is for sure…. I have back enough memory and healed enough to know my brother Jason I will no longer call my brother. He is nothing to me. Damn all these lies I was living all these years. Damn this dissociation. Damn all the adults who couldn’t see that their “compassion” and kindness to a rapist just because he was 16 was a mistake. Damn the minimizing of rape to the equivilence of borrowing my toothbrush without asking (well we wouldnt want them to get a cavity would We? Ha…right.)

I had 6 months of therapy before I felt pressured by people to leave therapy because I “appeared okay” And though they say it was my decision,  as an 8 year old girl I will interpret it as it would make them happy to think I was ok.  And so I pretend i am ok. I honestly feel my issues aren’t about sex or sexual abuse. I honestly think my issues are about safety. Because I was let down. If I can’t have people who hurt me be kept away from me how could I ever feel safe? I had another brother who was physically violent and almost killed me at times parents left us alone with him too. They never wanted to send him to Juvenile detention for his violent behavior. Instead he got CAT scans and psychiatrists. While still leaving me unprotected from him. I just couldn’t handle this reality. So, now I’m 18 different people (At LEAST. With D.I.D. sometimes you can never really know how many alters there are.) And each one of me can handle knowing a little bit. But maybe can’t handle it all. We work on healing and getting more of us feeling just comfortable with life. Being us and accepting us…. And finally realizing we have some power over our life. When others couldn’t protect us before,  we can protect us now. I live in another city an hour and a half away. I don’t have to come across the two brother I feel assaulted me. I don’t have to do family gatherings they go to. I limit talking to my parents because they insist everything was so long ago that I can “forgive and forget.” I really haven’t taken the time to sit down and talk to them. They don’t know we have made the decision to stop talking or even acknowledging the existence of our rapist. Incest is not okay. It is not forgivable. I will protect us now. I built a new “family” with people who have been there and support me. I am healing. I just still am trying to figure out my feelings toward my family and all the adults involved.

Here is clip of #blog “About #Dissociative Jess” that tells JUST names & mini bios of all 18 identities (more added as more is understood through therapy and healing)

Sometimes, I’m not the “Jess” you know of.

Sometimes, I’m not “Jess” at all.

Yet, I’m not really all that different from any of you. Except with memory and perception.

Welcome to Dissociative Identity Disorder.

This is host *Post Traumatic Jess.* I deal with the basic “physical” symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder. I sometimes can interact with other parts inside but sometimes being emotionally and physically drained I lack the energy to. Most people see me most days except when I feel depressed.

There is also host Serendipity  JD** (our initials are JD and she feels she is the most connected w/everyone so uses the abbreviation for what is essentially “the body’s birth name” given by parents and on records) The asterisks signify that the name has some “fine print” along with it, meaning other identities may be at play in how she presents. She is host when we feel most balanced with each other and have energy.

As well as the third host, “Apparently Normal Jess” (aka “Amnesia Jess”) who has limited and difficult access to trauma knowledge. She goes back and forth between being in denial of DID and wanting to accept DID. She can’t really connect easily with other identities and wants to be the “only one” as she wants other identities to “go away”) She is host for short bursts to fill in when you have to live in the now but the past is trying to resurface. She literally is a “blank slate” and every time she surfaces her knowledge of her situation changes. 

Are you following along?

We all respond to Jess/i/ca as our name because we are the hosts who speak with the body most often and are most accustomed to the “Jess” identity. 

Others respond to “Jess” but will correct you about their name if they have a chance. As long as it feels safe or appropriate. (We learned to hide ourselves and identities as a protective measure)


The names of all the other alters besides the 3 hosts:

The *Adults* 


 ( referred to as genderless and asexual, Jey prefers to be called a singular usage of they/them to identify as gender-neutral. Jey also uses they to mean plural usage because they are often “the negotiator” and nuetral who is speaking for all or mediating between. Aways listening and affecting things from the background. Has access to all memories however has a nuetral attitude of trauma. Doesn’t feel a connection with the body as theirs so they don’t feel they physically “experience ” most events. Unless connected co conscious with another’s emotions)


(Down to the detail of she being the ONLY RIGHT HANDED identity, she is pretty much the opposite of all others. They call her “The Wolf” because of her cool and controlled demeanor with a *hint* of danger, as she comes to “clean up the messes”…..Any fans of the movie Pulp Fiction get this? Ha….She is seen as both the intimidator and the savior. An insensitive blunt b*tch to some and a loyal unshakable ally to others. )


(a mother figure who is older maturity than the actual birth age. Often soothes the children internally and is very helpful with therapeutic methods and comforting. She would come off as very similar to the type of “mom persona” you see in old black and white classics. She likes to comfort and help other people and volunteer her help if she can. She hugs a lot. Likes to cook and bake for people. )


(probably the closest thing to “crazy” “unpredictable” we got. They call her “Chaos ” She is always laughing. She doesn’t suffer pain. Her energy is either positive or negative affected by the environment she comes to the front in. See, can be “chaotic good” or “chaotic evil” haha…Full of energy. Doesn’t really sit still. Antagonizing. Takes dangerous risks for fun. Unusual speed in comparison to all other identities)

Zsi Zsi

(she is known as “the helper.” Mostly takes over on basic repetive actions. Will continue a task for another identity if needed or asked. She is just known as the nice one who keeps all the secrets. She spends a lot of time focused on the health and fitness of the body. As it is something most of others neglect it and it’s important to be strong enough to stand upnfor yourself ) 

The *Teens*


(Age is 18. Care free, confident, “glamorous”, an accent and higher pitched voice. Sometimes “southern” and sometimes “valley girl” sounding. She has a bubbly and flirty personality. Though 18 is considered an “adult age” she is still a teenager. She is both trying to “act like an adult” and still enjoy being a youth. She usually wears a lot of make up and often changes the clothes we wear to look more “trendy.” Though she only does what she “feels like” it’s often true she can be quite responsible.  )


(Age is 14. Most intelligent but lacks the maturity to handle such knowledge as she has at a maturity so young. Holds many bad memories and often blames herself or takes it out on people trying to help because she cant trust them. Needs reassured often of your trustworthiness, needing to be reassured it’s safe frequently too. Helpful to remind her she is safe and no one is trying to hurt her. Goes from awkward and shy, to angry or depressed in an instant. Can be suicidal and has history of self harm. Talks quietly and makes little eye contact until upset then she screams and becomes offensive. She seems erratic but is a type of protector, pushing people away before they hurt you….or you hurt them)


(Age is 16, the only male alter. Like the “cool protective big brother” we never had. He is also aggressive and impulsive. He is very sexually explicit and humor very perverse uncaring of the audience. Often embarrassingly so. Sees himself as a bisexual guy. His perversions include turning negative abuse experiences into positive sexual desires and fetishes. Likes to take control, but has a quiet personality.  Until angered. Has body dysphoria and feels unloved and depressed but always hides it behind a smile and a joke along side a “tough guy” demeanor.)

The *Children* (ages shift and change sometimes, back and forth)


(twin, age indeterminable, child demeanor)


(other twin, age indeterminable, doesn’t speak)


( age 4)


(age 8)

*Nonhuman* alters that helped with surviving trauma

Kiki (aka “Kitty-Kitty” it’s short for)

Kiki is a cat that distracts from reality as a human, our spirit animal, can speak at times.  She doesn’t speak hardly ever, as she comes out when there is nothing to say or we can’t process the situation to converse or interact much. Also seems to react to sex in the way a cat, in a submissive manor, sometimes will fight with “claws” if feeling temperamental. This could be a reaction to not having a normal healthy exposure to sex.


Zoey is a sprite (and sees herself as this small fairy creature when fronting identity). She is mischievous and joyful and playful, high pitched childlike voice when in a good mood but deepens if in a sombre mood. Childish in attitude, has adult intelligence, sexual at times, doesn’t know much about “human customs and society.” She is very curious, sometimes gets her in trouble, and she asks a lot of questions. Mistaken for a child often, Zoey’s considered an ageless “immortal”


Justice is an angel sent to protect, defend, and guide, has no determinable age but mature demeanor. Unusual knowledge, strength, and stability that drastically differs from other identities and hosts 


[this is all for now, until we unlock more doors to our brain. Ha-ha! Any new info will be added as it comes!

You may see information lacking on some identities.

That is because it is difficult or straining to connect with them, they may be blocking or hiding themselves, or they have not had much interaction with other identities or outside people.]

See the awesome in you! Dissociation and friends and awesome people vs. “the plebs”

Our friend, Jameson, he is an amateur stand-up comic. He was in some competitions, he has done many shows and we have never been able to catch him because of….you guessed it – dissociation. Well, after one of these contests, he made it to the finals for a comedy club, The Funny Bone finals. It was a day we didn’t have to work, a Wednesday instead of the weekend. We were available. I tried to plan everything accordingly. However…some strange disastrous events occurred…

One, the night before the show, we were up late. This made us sleep late and have less time to get ourselves together before the show. The children like to come out late at night. Perhaps when I’m exhausted, they are able to take control and keep us awake. Sometimes they are afraid. Mostly, it’s because these irregular sleep patterns we learned in our childhood. Our mother let us stay up all night with her, even until the sun came up. She let us fight exhaustion as we wanted to stay up with her. When we weren’t in school, we could do this every day. During the summer we did it nearly every day, and our mom often encouraged us to stay awake longer with her, or even woke us up if we were asleep when she got home, to stay up with her. I don’t know what we thought we were missing. Maybe we just loved to know we had a mother there who loved us when we didn’t feel we had any friends. Maybe we just felt safer sleeping in day time rather than night time. Anyway, I think being stuck in that time and age, then that is the pattern the children alters will keep. So, I turned on an educational documentary. One of those like you’d see on The Discovery Channel or something. One of those nature documentaries, always calming with nature sounds and soothing music. Turned this on to calm the children, laying down on the couch to relax. I lose time again…I don’t know what happens next.

I wake up the next morning in bed feeling disconnected and confused…and of course, it was late in the afternoon. On top of this…..I can’t find my glasses. I say, okay they are probably by the couch, surely we fell asleep on the couch and stumbled to bed. They are not there. So I check all the usual strange places. On the floor under the couch, behind the couch, under the bed, on the night stand next to the bed, On the kitchen bar area, on the computer, on the bookshelf, on the floating shelf on the wall..They were not turning up. I started to crawl on the floor, scaling every inch. I even threw my dirty clothes all over in case it was tangled in with them somehow. I checked around the bathroom and kitchen sinks. I could not find them anywhere.

Hours went by. I never found my glasses. I could not drive without my glasses on the highway. However I could drive a short familiar distance, since my issue is not that I can’t see what’s in front of me, I just can’t read words on street signs or license plates, basically. So I made it to Walmart, where I got an eye exam that my insurance pays for. I paid the $40 co-pay for a contact exam, and then I got a free trial sample of contacts (which I don’t normally wear, I prefer glasses) just so I could see well enough to drive to see my friend. I almost didn’t get these contacts either because…..yep, once again, dissociation. I go for my wallet in my purse….it’s not there. I have no idea where it is. However, the kind people in this optical store did great detective work, and were able to find out what type of insurance I had and called the insurance company for the account number they needed to bill. I still had no idea where my wallet was. I called my work and it wasn’t there, that was my last memory of it. We got back home and I search every where to no end. Finally, I decided this was an adequate time to work on “connecting” with the others. I tried to ask the others if anyone knew where the wallet was. I got an answer: the back corner of the computer desk. Lo and behold, there was my wallet behind the monitor, which is why I didn’t immediately see it. Ha, sometimes they can help me. We can help each other more with the more we master this co-consciousness and conquer the disorder. I got no other answer from them but got the vibe that my wallet was there to use a credit/debit card for an online purchase. Guess we will figure out what that is when it gets here or when we get our card statements. Ha-ha!

As if this wasn’t enough issues to slow me down, as i was trying to leave I could not find my car keys. Someone did not put them where we are supposed to put them. This is a new issue we are dealing with. I found them eventually but now I was running late. Then, as I try to walk out the door, I realize I don’t know where my house keys were either, also not in the designated space. I spent more time searching for those (found them too, but now oh-so terribly late). After all this added stress and anxiety about being so late, now I had dissociation interfering with me getting out the door. I know I tried to leave, but I’d switch. It’s fuzzy, but I know I came back in 3 or 4 times. I don’t remember exactly what we were doing but I know the last time someone came back in to change my outfit. I heard Suzy, the 18 year old alter, scoffing in disgust at what I wore and says “F*ck this, I am not being seen in public wearing THIS!” I don’t know what her issue was, I was in a dress. Guess she didn’t like the dress I had on. Ha. (I can only laugh at these things now). Next thing I remember is I’m driving my car in a new outfit. I was almost an hour late when I got there.

We finally arrive. I buy the last two tickets just before they close the booth. I was lucky there. I walk inside to see my friend standing by the bar outside the show room with a group of people. I pointed at him when he made eye contact with me then waved. He was sitting down and took a double-take, before jumping up saying “Jess! Hey! You made it!….I just went on…”


Really? Damn it!!! Dissociation messed us up again and we were SO CLOSE!

I felt like the worst friend ever. But he hugged me and thanked me for coming. He seemed, from our point of view, to be ecstatic that we showed up. He looked like he had teared up a bit from it. I felt silly having bought these two tickets for myself and my friend who was meeting me there, and I literally JUST missed my friend on stage. He invited me to go in still, and enjoy the 10 other comics who still had to go on. Well, my friend had arrived and we had planned to do this, so we conceded. Also, he mentioned they would be announcing a winner at the end. He asked us to stay for the “clap off” where they introduce all the comedians again and have the crowd cheer for them. Which we made sure we clapped loud and hard for our friend when Jameson was called.

After it was over, I promised him I would make the next one, because I know he performs at the Funny Bone frequently and would be there again. It’s in the same mall complex as where we work,too, so I’d be able to find out easily if he’ll be there. My friend and I walked around the mall (it was a big outdoor mall) to where my work is to sit down where we could actually chat. We hadn’t talked in several months. We talked so long I hadn’t realized my work closed 7 minutes ago. So I threw money down on the bar (with a good tip, for being an ass in the way ha-ha!) and we ran out the door. We only went as far to the smoker’s area behind, where she could smoke and we sat on a bench. There we sat for at least another half hour talking. My car was right there because I parked at my work. So, then, we drove in my car, trying to find where she parked.

Funny thing, both of us suffer from dissociation and P.T.S.D. issues. She couldn’t quite remember where she parked because of memory issues that comes with these things. Our similarities in issues is how and why we met. She and I met through Twitter almost 2 years ago, when she messaged me. She was looking for a friend who understood her situation. Because it gets difficult talking to people who don’t know what it’s like to suffer trauma and abuse. Either they get exhausted emotionally or you do. I sort of understand feeling tired of making your friends feel sad all the time when you talk about your situation. It makes you want to isolate, too.

Anyway, so she was looking for someone with similar life situations to befriend who lived close by. She is in a city less than an hour a way from us. This woman introduced herself as Irene, and said she wanted to talk to me and meet me. She even went so far to point out her name means “peace” because she knew I’d probably be a little worried about meeting strangers online. I could see her sincerity and well…..I knew who she was.

See, we are fans of anime and cartoons (most of us, not all) and we love voice actors as well as live action actors. We recognized her name, and when we checked up on it, we were right, it was the real Irene we were talking to. I had a little mini fan girl geek out moment, and then composed my-selves. We began chatting and she invited us to some native American ceremony celebration at a mound. We have met her a few times after for a few other similar important events. I also had been invited into her home, and she made me feel so comfortable and welcome. She truly is a great person. Beautiful person! Then, I finally had something to invite her to. Excited, I invited her to this live comedy show that my friend Jameson was performing in. I finally felt like I contributed to the friendship by coming up with an idea. Ha-ha! I thought of something cool to do, and it was to watch my cool comic friend live. I felt like less of a “hum-drum” friend. Ha-ha! (this is my humor, ha-ha!)

She had a great time. I was so glad she showed. Although, honestly I feared she was not going to be my friend any more. You see, one of the last times I talked to her on twitter, I said on a weekend that I’d call her Monday….I had problems with dissociation for everyday after….for many months. It was about 4 months actually, since I had dissociated and I came back not knowing what day–or MONTH even–that I was actually in. I had had slight conscious awareness but not feeling present or have any vivid recollection. This is what my dissociation is like.

I had messaged her, having discovered I had broken my other phone and replaced it but did not have her number. I didn’t get a reply for a very long time. The reason was likely that she was in Nova Scotia filming for a show that is going to be released later in the summer. Also, I think she is doing some voice recording for something animated at the same time. On top of dealing with her life situations. After having met me, she described what happened to her that is giving her issues in her life. What she described to me was very much dissociation. I told her about the book my therapist and I were working on together. She told her therapist and then THEY too began using the same work book on dissociation. So, I’ve helped her understand herself a lot and I helped her believe she is not crazy or dangerous. I helped her figure out how to get the lawyer to fight on her side, mentioning the discrimination and stigma attached to PTSD that they are using to judge her.

So between my dissociation, breaking my phone, and Irene’s own life business and issues keeping her busy, it took a long while to get back in touch. I feel a lot of my fear that she was suddenly hating me (for no real reason other than I just didn’t get around to calling her) was just other parts I was feeling and just related to the PTSD effects of my childhood sexual abuse. I believe it was the holiday season that exhausted me. As well as, my daughter’s 13th birthday was coming up….She was 11 the last time we saw her… So I believe that probably had something to do with why I just lost months of my life….I am Post Traumatic Jess and I guess I get triggered and lose control of the “front of house” shall we say.

My boyfriend is used to this. We’ve been with him for almost 4 years now. Would you believe we are the longest relationship he’s ever had? A year and a half was all he made in all his dating life at 32 years old, when he met us. Didn’t even have children or a divorce. Well, he had 4 years in the Navy which I believe that makes finding love hard if you don’t already have it. He always likes to joke that he just never knew he always needed to date a multiple and now he “can’t go back” after dating one. So, he says, if we broke up he feels he’d have to date another multiple. Ha! (all forbid we actually broke up, which yea pretty sure it’s not happening. Ha-ha! He loves us all. Having no children and no real close family ties because of his own childhood trauma, he feels like he got a “family” in me, in us. ) One of the reasons we love him is he shares our quirky, weird, and at times dark or twisted sense of humor. He makes us smile, always knows how to make us laugh.

So here I am with my friend Irene, who is the voice of a favorite character of ours who is also going to be seen in an upcoming show on SPIKE TV as well as heard in an upcoming animation, and we are at this comedy club to watch our comic friend, having a boyfriend who has sailed around the world and is at our home lovingly waiting for us to return, hoping to hear we had a good experience…..Here I am surrounded by all these awesome people who have done awesome things and…….and I am just a “nobody.” Ha-ha! I don’t know why these cool people hang out with me. I guess there must be something nice about us, that they see something good in us. It really kind of annihilates the negative things people used to say. Those people, boring every day people, who were probably just envious of the light that shines in us. Because I know we know, we are good people. At least I know that now. We’ve always tried to be kind and be helpful to people. I just never let the meanness make me a hateful person. I understood suffering and can’t bear to see anyone else suffer too because I KNOW HOW THAT FEELS. So see, being abused and having a hard childhood does not make an abusive person.

I just wish all peoples who suffer with dissociation or Dissociative Identity Disorder or some type of Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder issue like we do, could have these kinds of positive experiences. I can’t make that happen for everyone, but I can share my story to give you hope that the world is not always going to treat you like a freak. There are people that can love you—-ALL of you’s. Everyone close to me has spent a lot of time with me, and whether they know it or not, have met many alters because I switch several times a day and at times I can be gone for weeks (or months, as you read) and they will see a “completely different Jess.” Since people are used to us changing so much, they just see it as our way of expressing ourselves and it doesn’t surprise them if I switch appearances or attitudes. They know me, and can pretty much know how to deal with all me because they have dealt with me as “that me,” in some situation at some point.

Our friends didn’t have to know our different names when we switched, because they like us and just know how to react. They may not have understood it was D.I.D. so they made some other reasons (my favorite is the time-old joke that’s been around since high school: Jessica likes shiny objects and that distracts her and makes her forget. “ooo shiny object” has always been an inside joke in our close circle) All-in-all though, they never *feared* us, just thought we were weird at worst. When I finally “came out multiple” to close friends, they kind of give you this “Aaahhhhhhh!!!” reaction as SO MANY things now make more sense.

I hope my story has given you hope that people can accept you and love you. Honestly I had to cut so many people out, and be hurt so many times. I even felt the need to move to a different city to find different people. Which, I recommend doing that if everyone in your town is a jerk. Start up a crowd funding, something, for it. Get yourself out at all costs and save yourselves. No matter what, you do not deserve rudeness or abuse. No matter what, know that these lower intellect, BORING everyday plebs of people, are just limited in their capacity to love and not judge. And remember, those awesome cool people who have transcended the monotonous rut of live-work-die and break out of the barriers of society’s boxes can see you.

Awesome knows awesome. See the awesome in yourselves!

Oh, by the way, if you all were wondering….I did find my glasses. They were inside a box that I put my make up in. I can only guess that one of the children had wanted to play with make-up and they just ended up dropped in my make-up box. You may wonder, if I am working on co-consciousness, why did I not try to connect with the children and ask them where they put our glasses. My boyfriend wondered exactly that, and to his questioning I replied, “I actually DID ask the children….but…they are children. They can’t remember what they did 5 minutes ago, you know how kids are, they can’t really explain well either.” So yea, I tried that, and all I get back is little kids kind of shrugging and “bouncing off” in our mind, being kids wanting to not be serious any more. Oh, an interesting life we live, with Dissociative Identity Disorder. And still, people think this is fun and games, pretending, and planned or “premeditated.”

This is my reality, whether you are looking or not. We are real, separate, conscious awarenesses within one smart, talented brain. I like to joke that humans are nothing more than anthropomorphic brain functions, and a brain can be smart enough to become as many as necessary. Ha-ha (weird humor, remember? *grins*)  Primary function you can say the brain has, is survival at all costs. That, my friends, is D.I.D.


“Coming out” as a multiple – The conversation with my boss…

So I’ve already done this once…With the two managers who needed to know, the GM and the one who does the scheduling. But that GM had stepped down months ago and a new one had replaced him.

We were nervous. We knew we still had one manager left who already had the information. Yet we knew we HAD to tell this new store manager because they may be the only one there at the time we are having issues.

I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him. None of the others were aware nor did they care what he did or did not know. That’s how most of the others are, just living their life. We had told at least half of the staff we work with about us and Dissociative Identity Disorder. It has made us feel a lot more safe. I have found, in feeling safer internally, that I am actually the one who is out more.

I also feel connected, and less dissociative. This is a new feeling. I am not sure if I am healing or if I am becoming more numb. Like I think I am less dissociative, but what if I just completely dissociated a part I am unaware of, and that is causing me to feel……well…..happy. I’m not “happy” all the time. Yet I found myself feeling happy. Something I usually could not do without one of the others having some sort of negative vibe, at least far off in the back ground, at least a grumble of disagreement or countering argument. Yet, I felt nothing like that in the incident I felt happy.

As Mother’s Day is coming up, and since my child is no longer legally my child, I usually begin to break down up to the day. Yet these past few weeks, I was finding moments to feel happy. I have felt less fear. I have slept better. I am not sure the cause. I have some theories. I believe it’s because of my “coming out” as a multiple with dissociative identity disorder, and the way I’ve been treated. It’s one of two responses, either emphatic encouragement and sympathy for my story, or it’s complete indifference. I know that second one may seem negative at first but it’s perfect. The point is, they never reacted with fear or meanness. They didn’t try to withdraw from me and ostracize me. In fact, they just seemed to just not think about it at all and treat me the same. Except for the few that had 101 questions. Which, we also love and welcome that, because we really enjoy raising awareness about our disorder, hoping to make it a safer place.

Yet here we were, with the new manager, afraid to say something. What was it about him that was different. Well, I pinpointed it – we really REALLY liked him. The new GM was gay and that is a plus, when you are a person “not so straight” yourself. Haha ( we are a queer system I guess you could say. With a mix of alters who are bi and trans and asexual and agender)…Plus, he’s funny and well dressed and a good looking really interesting man. Well, so, we were also intimidated by him and afraid of being rejected.

I felt weird feeling this as a 34 year old woman. Why do I care if he likes me? I’ve enough friends and this is just my place of employment. This is what I’m thinking. With the work internally we have done, I was able to go inside and figure out it was the children who were upset. It was being connected with them that causes my feelings like this. Which makes sense why I was having these feelings that didn’t match up or seem like I should be feeling them. Which is, basically what dissociation is like. I managed not to feel shame about the immature feelings this time too. So that’s a plus.

It was a silly thing, but I did my best to work through it. We were triggered back to childhood, when a cool new kid started school and we’d try hard to befriend them but as soon as they “heard about Jess” they would reject us like the rest…Oh yes, we grew up not really having any friends and being socially awkward and never really understanding why. Funny thing though, when coming across fellow classmates as adults, they were quite different toward us. That’s another story though…

About my manager…Well, since Mother’s Day was coming, I knew I’m setting up for a possible break down again, like last year. I was scheduled to work, a double shift all day. I knew that a few people left and that we were short handed and there is no one to work but me. Everyone else will already be there, on such a busy day. SO, it seemed I had no choice but to try to tough through it. As I said, I had been feeling surprisingly well these past few weeks, which was as encouraging as it was unnerving. Was I better or was I worse? Was I healing or was I burying again? Well, I was going to try to go with the positive choice and work. But, the new manager would be there and have no idea of what to do if I should have a break down. So, I knew this was the time I had no choice but to finally tell him. I could feel the whole team standing by, all “eyes on me” waiting and listening for what was going to happen, ready to do their best to work together and make it through this.

The conversation was something like this (I said so much and memories kinda jumbled):

(Walk in to work, see manager, Waving I said “Hey” but he just thinks I’m saying hello. He smiles and waves and walks off. I caught up and got his attention)

  • Me: Hey, when you have a moment, I need to talk to you about something important and kind of serious.
  • Boss: Okay sure
  • Me:  (looking around at the open room and panic rises with feeling “exposed” in everyone’s view) Is there some where we can sit and talk about something serious away from people?

(we sit in a booth)

  • Boss: So what’s up? 
  • Me: (starting off very calmly) Well, I need to talk to you about my disorder. I know you’ve worked here many months already and I should have already talked to you, I don’t know why I didn’t. I just need to tell you now because this weekend. This weekend is Mother’s Day and it is really hard for me. I don’t have my daughter…..because she was taken away from me because of my disorder. Well, not “taken away,” I was abused by my ex husband and his mom to get me to sign legal guardianship.

(and with a deep breath and feeling the pulse quicken…)

-I have a dissosiative disorder.

  • Boss: (nodding) okay.
  • Me: You may have heard me say something about it before or seen me seem a “little different” some days or maybe seen me talking to myself…. I actually have Dissociative Identity Disorder.  I am 18 different people. I am not crazy. I am not delusional. It’s just my memories are separated and that’s just how I perceive things and comprehend myself with those memories. It just means sometimes I remember different things. At worst I may not know where I am, I may not even know who YOU are, and I may be afraid. 
  • (Boss still nodding to encourage me to keep talking. I was loosing my ability to hold eye contact here, I could feel dissociation wanting to kick in…)
  • So, Mother’s Day is hard for me because I don’t have my daughter. My ex husband and his mom were abusive to me, took advantage of my disorder, were telling me lies, making me afraid, trying to make me think I was crazy. I didn’t know if I was a danger or not to my child. At this time we were living with his mom and she kicked me out. I was homeless with no help. I signed legal guardianship because I didn’t understand what was wrong with me, not knowing if I was a danger, and I didn’t want my daughter with my ex husband because well, he’s a sociopath and he’s a danger. His mom isn’t much better but she doesn’t do drugs and she is responsible. This was supposed to be only temporary until I got my disability and could figure things out. Well, he and his mom told me not to give money, and just one year after legal guardianship they sued me for not giving money. Which, there was no way for me to defend against. They also had a lawyer where I was alone, 3 against one. I had no chance….

(taking a breath here i think for the first time, I had to take a moment to calm myself. I look down and off to the side like I often do when I’m listening to others inside. I said to the others who were all rushing at me questioning me, “I’m okay.” I actually said this out loud as I usually do to make them feel acknowledged and also to state my position as “one who is fronting.” So then I look up at my boss and say to him, “Maybe I’m not as okay as I thought I was, now that I’m thinking about it and it seems to be affecting me” as I’m looking down at my shaking hand, and mentally noting the tears burning my eyes and my increased pulse and and the strain in my voice)

(…continuing talking to my boss about my situation…)

I lost rights to my child forever after just one year of legal guardianship… I was still seeing her on the weekends. When she’d let me see her.

This woman was abusive to my child and my disorder made me block some memories out but then I got back some memories. And well, I went a little “crazy.” I didn’t threaten her, I just kept texting her about the abuse and she kept ignoring me so I said I was going to show up at her house to talk to her in person. Then she called the police to lie and say i was threatening her and they called me to tell me never to contact her again or try to contact anyone to talk to her for me…This basically happened right before I started working here, so really the whole time I’ve worked here I haven’t seen my daughter. I’ve had some therapy and it has helped—Well, now my therapist doesn’t take my insurance so I’ve been sort of doing therapy for myself these past several months–but anyway I find I am feeling better. Getting stronger…

I’m scheduled to work Mothers Day and I feel better than I did last year so and I know you don’t have anyone else to work, so I’m going to TRY to work it. I just thought you needed to know in case something happened. See, because I have complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and something may trigger me and I just thought I needed to let you know….well I needed to let you know anyway but definitely now….

  • Boss: What are you scheduled to work?
  • Me: I am hosting. I’m a double, I’m your host all day…I know you have no one else and I am feeling better so I think I am okay to try to work—-
  • Boss interrupts: —You can have the day off. I got it covered. 
  • Me: What? Wait… Really? Oh, but that wasn’t my intention.  I just wanted you to know what may happen if something happens. You have no one else to w—-
  • Boss: —I got it covered. Take the day off.
  • Me: Wow. Okay great. Thank you! 


Well, that’s as best as I can remember. I do remember after I talk to my GM, I talk to another co-worker, Sophia, who was probably the first person I told at work about us and having Dissociative Identity Disorder and how we came to be. So I just kind of disclose every update to her because she’s followed since the beginning.  She was 18 and now is 20 and she is one of many in my on-going support system. Sophia has done well to actually remember what I tell her and continues to be part of the reason I can have confidence to keep speaking out. People CAN listen and learn, and CARE. As more and more people listen since the first day I decided to stop hiding, I heal more parts of me. Some things get easier.

During the time I’m talking to my boss, I’ve totally lost the ability to keep eye contact. My visions blurred, I’m floating in dissociation. The more I say the words, the more it brings the memories to surface, and the more it brings the re-lived experiences with it. I reassure myself, and the others, I am strong. I’ve survived this before, we can do this again. The problem is, I know the person listening as I am telling is feeling it too. It becomes harder and harder to keep eye contact. When I do, I see the tears people try to hold back as I’m trying to tell my story. It really is something that is hard for even the toughest of men to swallow. No tough guy can leave dry after hearing my story. I have parts of me that don’t like people feeling sad for us, and I have parts of me that want those same people to hold and comfort us. This just leaves me with an uncomfortable feeling and confusion not knowing what to do.

Anyway, so you see, I just kind of blurt it all out in a ramble, but it works. There may have been a few other things said, but I do know I dissociated for a moment or two and came back hearing myself still talking, don’t know what was said. Anyway, this turned out pretty good. So here I was, just trying to explain who we are so he would be able to know how to react, and boom I get a freebie “mental health day.” I do feel stronger, but it’s probably not safe to say I can work anyway. This is the hardest struggle I have to live with, making it to the day I can be allowed to legally talk to my daughter again and confront the woman who abused us and forced us into a situation of duress in order to take advantage of us. What kind of person breaks a mother and swindles away her child?

Well, I’m not going to waste too much time thinking on that anymore. My only concern is, how do I get well and find the strength to get help to my daughter who has suffered the most in this mess.

I am thinking I feel much better now having finally told my new general manager what my condition is. It seems the more people I tell and the more positive (and neutral!) reactions I get, the safer we all feel inside. I see signs of me improving but I also see some other aspects worsening. Maybe it’s just because our reality has been usurped with new information that was actually OLD information hidden, and now its a swirling chaos until we can make a reality make sense again. Like, have to get worse before it gets better.

I don’t really know how much more of the “worse” i can handle. Ha.

Anyway, there is a lot of ramble here, but the whole gist of it seemed to take a short period of minutes to take place. I just wanted to give you guys an example of what it’s like for me, and how I have my “coming outs” within my place of employment. Really, you just have to close your eyes, take a breath and just let go, let it come out, however it comes out, and don’t even spend another second on the words once they’ve been said. Eventually, you get your story told and the ending is a new beginning, and a positive one at that.


Internal conversations. Step inside and see. When I can’t handle them…

Me- Jess, here-

Internal conversations. Step inside and see. When I can’t handle them…



Jess: There is something inside that i dont like. Something I dont agree with. It is the opposite of me. It’s repulsive. How do I face it?

These thoughts, they are not mine.

These feelings, I do not understand.

This is not me.

Shut them up.

Jey: We can’t shut them up. They are a part of you. 

Jess: This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to handle this? If it doesn’t stop how do we live? I can’t accept these thoughts and feelings.

Jey: Well, that’s not entirely true. You haven’t tried to understand them yet. With understanding comes acceptance.

June: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? She doesn’t give a damn about your hippy philosophy. She wants her quiet little normal life at whatever cost it takes. She will never understand me. I don’t care to try to explain myself either.

Jess: SEE?! SEE?! How can we get ANYWHERE when SHE is like this on top of how HE is?

Jey: (sighing…) It’s going to be a long process….

Bill: It’s all good. I’m for it. Try. TRY to understand me. You may find you like it. Because, lets face it, I AM you, right? haha…Can’t escape that reality, I am a part of you and you gotta deal with it.

Jess: These thoughts. They are just sick. I’m not sick.

Bill: Oh they aren’t sick, they are just my own perversions. Everyone has perversions.

Jess: You are going to embarrass me if you don’t watch yourself.

Bill: Fine. I hear you. It’s just SOOO DAMN HAARRRD.

Jess: I swear to fucking god—

Bill: -HAHA “Fucking God,” that’s exactly who I’m prayin’ to.


Bill: YOU are making yourself look crazy! (laughter)

June: You both are MAKING ME crazy!

Jey: ……a very looong process…..

Jess: (silence)

Victims of childhood sexual abuse can’t heal if can’t call abuse “abuse” because adults in their life won’t

How do I word this? About people’s complete selfishness and ignorance by not speaking up about abuse? And how it stops the victim from being able to heal if they can’t let themselves call it abuse, when nobody in their lives will support them and call it abuse too? It makes total sense why it’s difficult for the victim to call abuse, abuse. Oh and the gas lighting and the minimizing of the abuse doesn’t help with that at all, am I right? Yet we just don’t understand why it’s so hard for OTHER people outside of abuse witnessing to call it for what it is. Not make excuses.

For example, I feel like my family hid and covered up the truth of my abuse because they didn’t want the stigma attached to rape that would possibly be an embarrassment. The truth was my half brother raped me from age 3 until I told on him at age 8.. He is 8 years older than I. So he was 16 when I was 8… They did not want to prosecute him as an adult, they wanted to help him. Granted he was taken away, but for only 2 years. Also, during this time I had to do weekly counseling sessions with him and I was told he was just a “troubled boy” who said he did this because he was “jealous of the attention I got.” Oh, also he did this because all of his friends were having sex, he says (yea so let me have sex with my prepubescent little sister then?? yea, that makes sense).. People believed this and would not accept that maybe he was really a pedophile, since I was so young and well before puberty at 3 when it started.

He was barely gone 2 years for the 5 years he tormented and raped me on almost a daily basis.. He instead got to go to a “home for troubled boys” rather than juvenile detention too. And when he was 18 they brought him back into the family like nothing ever happened. They didn’t tell anyone in the family the truth to why he went away so that he could come back. They told me to lie about why he went away if anyone asked too. So This is what this does to me, I just wasn’t allowed to say the truth and had to convince myself he wasn’t an “abuser” because nobody else called him that. So I had to see him as he was just a “troubled boy” who needed help, too. (Obviously this was helped by the gift of dissociation, and this trying to deny reality is part of the cause for our multidentity with dissociative identity disorder) And I let person after person abuse me in my adult life after.

No one understood why I would do that to myself. It was because I was taught that’s what I deserve and I sought out the familiar abuse. Took me til I was in my 30’s to see the truth. I no longer hide the fact that my brother is a pedophile rapist, no matter what my parents say about it. I no longer talk to my rapist either, didn’t even give him a goodbye just stop acknowledging him. I am now healing. I have a spiritual family to support me now, my group of good people who see the truth of abuse and validate my feelings too.

What does it mean to be a multiple? What really is the disorder? What does integration really mean?

Being multiple just means the being you are talking to will, at different times, feel different and remember different things. In order to make sense of this constant changing interaction, there are different names to represent each individual identity that functions in control of the human brain, speaking to you. To ignore, disreguard, or deny the existance of these names will only distress the person you are communicating with and complicate the communication with yourself. Knowing who you are talking to helps you understand the different interactions. Helps with communication and working with the system you are interacting with.

This is not one person pretending, knowing exactly what they are doing before they do it and in complete control. This is a human being who’s brain literally learned to develop as a team of separate conscious awarenesses. It is believed many times the brain is forced to develop this way, via trauma, as a means to survive. It is our belief that developing this is more like a syndrome, just a trait, a descriptive representation of a being. It is not a disorder in and of itself. The disorder is dissociation from all parts of the system so they live a chaotic, confused and conflicted life. An integrated system is always aware of what happens and acknowledges their whole chronological order of life. If you think integration means all but one of us that you know disappear, then you don’t understand the brain or what being a multiple is. We never go away. We just understand who we wholly are. Now some may want to say that this is just a “co-conscious” system. Well yes, that is true. It really is a matter of opinion and self identity for what you want to call yourselves. Sometimes you see an integrated system accepting a birth name. I see our integrated system renaming ourselves one name we all can agree upon to respond to, and speaking as one, we move in unison known as a system named that. Like the resprentation of our “company.” Not denying any other part. Just accepting how we want to be viewed.

We plan to go through the legal process of name changing to add this one agreed upon name to represent us. Adding it legally in front of our given birth name. We don’t deny who we are, we just see ourselves as more than what you know. More than you see. We feel picking a name and going as far as taking legal steps to change it even (but not nessarily) should be considered by all systems. We feel it should be discussed and brought up in therapy by professionals as a means to unite all of you as a connected team. A functional system.

It is just a hard time coming to explain this to get the community on board. It is not a negative defect to be a multiple, especially if a connected system. Everyone has a right to express themselves and their individuality. Even if there are many inside one. Each of us deserve to express ourselves and be acknowledged. If we are a system, and if this is truly just seen as nothing more than how a brain developed to understand itself, then less stigma can exist for multiples. I am Dissociative Jess**. I can communicate with all the others in my system but I still don’t feel as much part of them. I don’t want to feel so separate. I want to know how all of me feels. I love and care for all the parts as I’ve gotten to know them, as friend  as family as a team. I want to live all of my life and so do they. We want to be we but we need you to understand that all of “we” is the one you see. Some of us are still afraid because you “out there” can’t understand “us in here.”

There is a difference between Dissociative Identity Disorder and being a brain with a multidentity system. I am coming to a fuller understanding of the brain and how it functions. I don’t want to just sit here and ponder possibilities based on my limited information and fantastic ideas (like how religious guesses were born before trying scientific methods to prove). I wanted to understand why doctors viewed us the way they do. I wanted to know what they know…. plus everything they can NEVER know. Which is, what it’s actually like to be “us.” We want to talk to more professionals and scientists to try to get them to understand what we know. Instead of working so hard to argue about how “real” or “fantasy” or “created/fabricated/false memory” we are, why don’t we just stick to some science? We are asking for help and we are being ignored as if we are not a living human being standing before them. Feeling as if our very life worth is being debated.

This is why we need to stop the “chatter” and start just asking people to volunteer for doing studies and brain scans and different selves being recorded. There are ways to see the physical representation of “us.” I know this. Just have to have the rest of the world come to acceptance and figure out how to include us all, as productive positive members of society instead of an ostracized outcast.

We also feel, this understanding of our separateness as something physical in development and not just mental, will help everyone understand what is actually possible or necessary when discussing integration. We feel that if you think only one identity exists, then you are being fooled by a system who has chosen to use one name. If you think you don’t notice signs of others still there and it is only one of them, and that one says they are the only one left, then perhaps it’s possible that the others got mentally abused through therapy and psychologists and they hid away in shame and depression? I just had to come out and say it. I think doctors and counselors have not allowed themsleves to look at the positivity of being a system. I think the dissociation was what makes being a system look bad. As well as the other issues each part keeps to themsleves and in need of individual healing because different levels of trauma experienced. For reasons of issues many multiples seek help for, it seems being a multiple in and of itself is not one of those reasons. That’s how we really “found out” and “discovered” during therapy we seek for the REAL issues we have (which is not the multidentiy). We have had therapy help teach us how to work on connecting and being a team and all present. Most of the healing though, we have done ourselves. You dont really need a therapist there to help you listen to others and feel empathy. Which is what is required to become a collaborating open system. So, I really just wanted to say that I feel integration is no one goes away as all parts are real and valid representations of a human being. I think the doctors can agree with us on that. I don’t think informed doctors try to tell any of us that we are acting or not real. So if anyone says they dont hear or feel any other different part, we have begun to consider if this is actually a form of abuse where others are bullied or shamed into silence or hiding. Or maybe even afraid, fearful of what would happen if they come out or fearful of the outside world? We feel this way because we have been one alone and many separate. I have been connected with all and then felt nothing, hear nothing but silence. Then…. they came back. Then some come and go. Then, even I had been gone a while, feeling afraid and broken and at times suicidal. And it’s due to life situations and how we viewed and treated ourselves. Sometimes the world was scary and not kind to some of us… Sometimes some of us were not very kind to ourselves. We understand this now. So, now we think we understand the necessity in being one plus we also can appreciate and love ourselves for becoming all of whom we are. Our own each individual selves can be expressed through one body. We are one with many expressions and we all want to communicate to live a balanced life we all feel a part of.

All but one……Just one part left to reach. She has thought she would be the only one who existed…. She thought integration meant we all go away but for her. She considered us “made up” by her because of trauma and healing meant we were not necessary and would “go away.” She is so far apart that she cannot hear us except through deep meditation. However we leave notes and messages and blogs and express ourselves online and on social media. Now, she has read our words. She feels for us. She is a part of us and she is just as kind as any of us can be. So she is quiet a lot now as she feels guilty for hurting someone’s feelings. Which is  unlike before, where she’s considering perspectives of us as real people with feelings now and not just a “fantasy part of her brain.” She had caused a lot of ruckus and we vocalize our pain and disapproval from it. Other people support us too has helped get the point across.

She wanted to force integration because she wanted to not lose time or have things happen she did not know. Now we understand ourselves and want to show her how to work with us so we all are aware together. We were still struggling to understand ourselves and some of us still hadn’t even opened up to the rest of the system though we were aware of each other. So it was really difficult when we tried to connect with the Normal Jess to stop her antics. Now we are more connected and hope all together we reach her.  We have stopped some things from happening again but can’t undo what has been done.  She was going around trying to talk to other multiple systems on facebook and convince them they have to integrate and convince them they are not more than one. She must have felt by convincong them she could convince herself. … and the rest if us….instead it made us have to deal with some very uncomfortable situations and aggressions we did not want to deal with. Even discovering we had been blocked by people and removed from forums we frequented. So, we all are on a mission to be kind to the Normal Jess and show her hurting any of us only hurts us which is also her. Because this needs to stop. We all need to stop hating each other.

The good news so far? She actually is considering the fact that she caused some irreversable changes and negative events. Because of her selfishness. She is not cold hearted and can feel bad for hurting someone. Oh, now finally we may have the ability to reach the part of me none of us can connect with. The most normal part of us because she has never known any idea if the extreme suffering we have. Now we understand integration does not have to mean we all re-experience the past trauma or that all but one of us go away. Now that we understand it is just understanding “us” and living a balanced life we all are aware of and agree upon, that also fits within the rules of society we live in. Now we think it’s safe to be us.

Each one of us heals their own individual issue while the strongest keep us going. We work together and we all reap the benefits of life. Or we all find a way to help each other understand why life isn’t really what we want it to be. Most of all I would think we are more focused on external relationships and life and spend less time inside our head when all are connected. That is why they think of us so much as a disorder. They consider “not being present” a problem. So, let’s be present. Let us ALL be present and express ourselves externally and not hide so much internally.

All smiles and cheers!

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. 😉