Some ramble of interactions with alters switching in and out with me. Some updates on what’s happened, how I quit one job I thought I wouldn’t and am happy at a new one.

So here’s an update in my life. I had decided to quit my job a few months ago, after having worked with them for two years being open about my Dissociative Identity Disorder. I know it seemed like I was resolving issues and not wanting to give up, but eventually I realized I was harming myself by staying. They over worked me. I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was on a downward spiral and if I didn’t quit, they would have made up a reason to fire me.

I had a nervous break down, on top of a death in my family and a fight that almost ended my relationship. All in the same week. I was being over worked even though I told my job I couldn’t take care of myself working this much. My job productivity was beginning to suffer, and my life outside of work was falling apart. I was falling apart, mentally, emotionally, and even physically.

I wanted so much to stay at this job. For I loved many of the people, and well, change is a hard thing for me and my system. My anxiety and agoraphobia make changing jobs or moving very difficult for me. The confusion and fear of others inside make it all the more complicated too. Yet, I could see these managers here were just not getting it. And to them I was just a part of their business and they were choosing to take a short cut to keep business flowing. I.E. work me to death with no concern for how it affects me, so long as I am willing to do it. I liked the job. I liked the livable income. I liked the people. But you know what I realized I don’t like? Corporate bullshit or realizing the narcissistic attitudes management may have.

We had a meeting. Early at 9 am after I worked 11 hard hours not asleep until 3 am. I hadn’t eaten. I was given some silly “pop quiz” about the menu and procedures. Silly things like “what’s the toppings for such and such” and “what do we say when we answer the phone.” But my brain can’t work. A part of me wanted to lash out. That self destructive part we all knew was June. She slides the paper to edge of the bar where all employees were sitting around and just says, “Sorry I can’t answer these questions. I don’t know any of them.” The manager gives me an annoyed look and tells me “just answer what you can.”

I wrote two things. Two, out of twelve or so questions.

My manager picked up the paper and said “this is unacceptable.”

June rolls her eyes and sighs annoyed, saying, “I told you I couldn’t do it. I can’t think. I don’t know the answers.”

My manager says I can retake it, because some people just don’t take tests well.

June says, “No! Don’t bother. I still won’t have the answers. Not now. Not ever.”

She tries to tell me again, just to try it.

June says “I just have to accept that my brain just can’t do it! I’m done caring and just quit.”

And she walks off in a huff. She is crying tears of frustration and anger. I can sort of observe what’s going on but I have no control. I am also being pulled in between what’s happening externally and internally, in my universe inside as the others are making noise about the situation. It’s hard to fight to stay present and I was losing. And June was LOSING IT.

Walking out the door we pass our bestie, Mariah, who started working there with us after we helped her get the job there (she was one of the reasons we didn’t want to quit. It’s really hard to feel safe with people you work with so it’s great to have a friend there). She stopped us to ask what’s wrong. June just relays it quickly in a huff that we couldn’t get any answers. Mariah tries to console me and asks why are we crying about that? She asks, why cry about this job, its just a dumb hostess job at a restaurant? June expresses vehemently, that’s exactly WHY she’s crying, because it’s just a dumb hostess job.  All because she should be able to do the simple things this very simple job she is way too smart for. Screaming about how if we can’t do this, we can’t do anything, while she flails her hands about emphasizing words. She then storms off.

I remember Morrighan slides in control of the body, as June fades to the internal world, where her room is, slamming her door just. Morrighan drives us home as usual and stays out to ensure nobody does anything stupid like having a fugue moment.  She knows we have to work this day still, and drives us back there another hour later for our shift. I remember, it was the first time Morrighan came out to interact with managers. She never works this job, though she may observe what’s going on time to time. I was just trying to work, not really fully aware of what was said by June earlier at the meeting. My general manager stopped me when I came in and asked me if I wanted to talk about what happened this morning. Morrighan came out to prevent us from stupidly blurting out our emotions without thinking them through. So she asked him, “Can we do this later because I’m still trying to focus just on getting through my shift today and need my energy to do that?” So the general manager said yes. And at the end of our shift, it seems he was going to let us leave. I asked if he wanted to still talk. He thinks for a second then waves his hand saying nevermind. I didn’t really know why, but Morrighan came out again to say, no, we need to speak about this now. Morrighan wanted the upper hand, wanted to be in control of the situation. She was the first of us to stand up to this GM. She pushes me back out front though, to be the one to speak to him first.

My GM asks me:

“So, what happened this morning at the meeting? And Don’t talk to me about triggers….”

What, what? Did he really just ignorantly say that to me? After I spent all that time explaining to him what my complex PTSD is and how my D.I.D. and dissociation works, how I’m sometimes in trauma time and not reality, and how parts of me react differently…did he really just say that? What if I WAS having a trigger? How rude of him to say that. After all I’ve explained, he just waves his hand (literally) invalidating my circumstance with attitude.

And I feel anger….It wasn’t mine. I feel……..Morrighan. She’s standing next to me. Of course, I don’t mean literally, but this is the representation of how it feels, co-conscious with her. This is not a feeling I’m familiar with. It’s like I can actually feel her breathe make the hairs on my neck rise as she stands close behind me. That’s what it feels like co-conscious with her.

I took a deep breathe and laugh nervously, as I apologize to my GM,”Hold on, just have to still focus to keep myselves together there…..”

I take a moment to do some coping exercises to calm me, controlling breath, controlling heart rate, naming things to stay present.

And then I begin to explain…

“This isn’t about triggers actually. There is a war going on inside of me. Half of me says we want to work here and half of me wants to quit. Some are trying to sabotage me.”

He actually starts to cut me off before I finish the last sentence to tell me that it doesn’t matter, my behavior was unacceptable. He is trying to chastise me as if I was trying to justify my actions. When in actuality, I was coming to him for conference, for a crisis I was currently in, and I was coming to ask for help. I was becoming suicidal and no one knew. I was trying to tell him half of me is trying to destroy me and I need help. But no, he had some sort of arrogance with me, as if he didn’t believe me at all. As if he believed DID is a game and something we do to excuse ourselves.

Not true. We can be accountable.

And now Morrighan comes out, to explain just that.

She says,”I do not in any way believe my behavior was acceptable. It was completely unprofessional. Quite immature, ridiculously embarrassing, unacceptable.”

And my GM puffs up like “Ok so we are in agreement.”

Then, Morrighan continues…

“However, when a child does something wrong or lashes out you don’t just scream at the child, you try to teach them, don’t you?”

My general manager says, yes, of course.

And Morrighan continues

“So here I am, trying to teach this part of me, that is a child, how their behavior is unacceptable. I am trying to hold my-selves accountable. I know you can’t understand that there are many parts of me that all think and remember different things, but they are real. I am trying to figure out how to get us all to cooperate. The problem is, we don’t handle change well, and the change in management was difficult when they started doing things differently. There were times that the previous GM wasn’t doing what they should have done. Like I know you would have fired that girl for her no call no show, before I went off on her when she decided to quit after the place agreed to not fire her. Parts of me is feeling let down by this place. I don’t think I deserved that write up. I blacked out, we were having an argument with someone who is a coworker but also a friend outside of work in a private conversation. It was none of this restaurant’s business, even if I told some exaggerations to hurt her feelings.”

Well, after all this, my general manager just seems to be flustered, and he just throws out, “Well there are different reasons we fire people…i don’t know if I would have fired her….we look at each situation differently…” And so on. Morrighan narrows her eyes at him, like,” Riiight…” and the sum of what she next is saying is basically “This situation, the girl had no excuse to not call. You surely would have fired her. She shouldn’t have been here to have this text altercation with her happen. She was a terrible employee and she triggered me. She knew what I was  since she was my friend on facebook and I am open about what I am. I told her if I say or do anything that seems off to talk to me about it because it may not be ‘me’ and I need to ‘fix’ any issues that arise. She knew this, knew my disorder, then she triggered me, and then tries to make me look like the bad guy writing to corporate..”

My boss responded to tell me, “Well, I would have FIRED you.”

And I just couldn’t believe it. If he says that they look at all parts of each situation, and if there is some excuse for a no call no show that doesn’t include medical or death, but my actually on paper diagnosed medical issue doesn’t matter how? A nervous breakdown is inadequate to garnish understanding or sensitivity to? I did not intend to do what I did. I blacked out. I came back to see the words already sent in a message. She however, is manipulative, abusive, uses people, lazy, and completely aware of what she was doing, 100 percent intending to do what she did. But she got a free pass.

That was all we needed to know. The lack of understanding and the complete ignorance of “dont talk to me about triggers” and “I would have fired you” basically for having these triggers…..I mean, it would be different maybe if I had somehow actually endangered your business, but even then you wouldn’t have to treat me cruelly for having a disability, just say that they cannot accommodate my disability any more.

I remember now, I remember Morrighan say say, “I don’t think I deserved that write up because she would have been written up too if she was here, for the things she said. She’s not here because she quit but I am. I am a reliable employee. I think my character should have been taken into consideration and my disability, and not given that write up.”

My GM said, “I would have fired you for it.”

Morrighan says (and as always, does the things that none of the rest of us can) that it’s time we quit this job. None of us would do it. But she did. She says to the general manager:

“Well, then, I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you my two weeks notice. Because if you feel that I deserved that write up and that I am actually detrimental in these actions then I don’t want to be here being a danger to your business. And also, this whole incident was Flip Side’s fault anyway, as I told you for more than a year, that I can no longer work these hours and take care of myself. Had you let me keep less hours, I would have taken care of me and been able to connect with this part to stop it, not be blacked out.”

He tried to be arrogant like “I’m just saying that Business is business and I’d have fired you.”

Business is business but if you are in the business of people then you have to learn to understand people and have compassion. If numbers and dollar signs is all you know, then get involved in a business that is not in the business of hospitality. You obviously know nothing about hospitality.

Well I told him, I would work two weeks because I know they have another host coming. I still cared about the people I worked with and didn’t want to completely screw them when I left. I left on good terms after that.

And you want to know the funny thing? I felt happy inside. All parts of me were happy that we stood up for ourselves. There was a lot more going on I just can’t have time to fill it in. The strangest thing, in those last two weeks I worked there, for the first time I had no issues doing my job. Here, after having struggled with memory and focus and DID for two years, and daily having mishaps, for two weeks straight I was impecable at my job. It was ridiculous……I knew I could have done it the whole time, but what was it about the place that distressed me? I think there was the sexual harrassment issue that made me felt trapped because I had to work there, needing the job, but I couldn’t get away from the flirty men who made me uncomfortable with jokes that weren’t funny.

which reminds me, there was a time when i first began working there, that one male employee thought it was funny to follow me in the stock room/restroom for employees. When I had my hands full of items to restock, he stood in my way out the door and shut the door saying we were going to “have some fun.” I had to scream at him a couple of times before he opened the door laughing. I told and they didn’t fire him. I told them I was a rape victim and these jokes aren’t funny. Yet, here he was not fired, just scolded, told to talk to me “respectfully” and he was using “please and thank you and yes ma’am how are you today ma’am?” but you know that only lasted a while. And it didn’t stop him from continuing the same perverted jokes with the other female employees…

Yes, he didn’t get fired. And then they work me to a point of literal insanity and all in a week I had a death in the family and my boyfriend an I almost broke up and all within a few days to the moment this girl acted nonchalant about whether or not to show up to work again (after not being fired for a no call no show all ready) and then after not getting a direct answer finally says she is quitting. And this meant me getting over worked again because I’d be the only host…..And then I just snapped, because I can’t deal with this life stuff while I’m trying to deal with recovering memories and fighting inner turmoil of my system.

I was not well, yet he gave me stuck up arrogance of how he would have fired me because “business is business.”

Well I got a new job now. And I never mess up here (not really. LOL I am human so yes I do make mistakes but you know its not like the chaos of before). Nobody is hating being here. We are doing better. Even though there still were some issues, because well I still am every day always on a healing journey.







So I finally reached a point in my healing to not rationalize what my rapist did….But am I rationalizing the decisions my parents made to “help him” and not actually help me?

I had a mix up of information in my own head. I couldn’t even get the difference in age right in my head….I was rationalizing that my brother was “just a kid” and was “really young” and hadn’t fully developed and that he just “learned some bad behavior from somewhere.” I thought he was 13 or 14 when I told, like he was a little kid that just hit puberty and was just too confused to deal with the hormones. Like he was just a troubled boy who really needed help. Like it was the drugs his poor impressionable mind got peer pressured into doing and it wasn’t what he would have done with out it. Like he was angry for his bad situations he was stuck in and was just taking it out on me but he could and needed to learn new healthier ways of expression. Ways that didn’t include hurting and raping me. I convinced myself that I was a good little Christian girl to pray for him and forgive him and then he would never hurt me or anyone ever again. And it seemed to appear that way. It seems, that he was “fixed” and everything was normal and “no harm done.”

But that was no where near the reality. I see that now. I realized wait, he was 16, and that’s a man-child who’s sexuality is well formed and unchangeable. That’s a point he was well a master at manipulating people and not an innocent boy who just reacted without thinking. Where did I get these thoughts? How did I come to this rationalization of my rapist? Well, it must have been necessary to survive the reality I couldn’t make sense of. I never intended to tell, and when I finally had to, I actually felt relief but then all that relief turns to grief because he wasn’t going a way forever and nobody was really all that mad at him. Not as far as I could tell, as they seemed more concerned with having therapy with him. It all was a mess from the beginning, and I was embarrassed more than I can handle. So embarrassment is one of my triggers.

I was being hurt. I was being hurt in a bad way. I didn’t want to tell. I was scared to tell. Something happened that changed everything. Forcing me to tell. I don’t think I ever would have told because I feared I had no safe place away from him. As a child, I understood that kids got “grounded” and punished by spankings (but I was never spanked) and that you still have to live with the kids that hurt you. I didn’t believe he could be separated from me and I didn’t have a chance away from him ever to tell anyone. Until the day I did have a chance, all by coincidence.

A little girl in 1st grade ran away from home by walking home with me and my brothers one day. My parents thought that was odd to let a child walk with some other kids and not even know where the house was. and so they contacted the school and found out she was missing with an amber alert. During the time she was there playing with me, she told me about how her father was sexually abusing her. It was amazing to know someone who suffered like I did, so i shared my story with her. She then talked to me about how to find ways out of it, looking for ideas of good places I can hide until mom and dad got back home so he couldn’t rape me while they were gone and he was babysitting us. She was then picked up by her father, pulled out of our school and I never saw her again. To this day, I fear for her and wonder if she is okay….But the point of telling you about her was to explain how I got into the situation that finally got me to tell on my brother.

It felt good to share my story. I was a kid always weird and picked on in school. Most of my younger days I had no friends. I’d get one person to be my friend at the beginning of the year, but by the end of the year they got tired of being picked on for being my friend. People always asking “why do you hang out with her? She is soooo ANNOYING!” until my friends gave in and no longer were my friends. In second grade, I got one person to be my friend. I can’t remember where I was, but I think I stayed the night at her house. I don’t know how it came up, but I wanted to try to be the one who told first this time. I was hoping to have a remake of last time, that she would be able to connect with me with a similar situation. But, she did not. She was grossed out and horrified…..and then the next day at school, proceeded to tell everyone in the class. I remember the teacher wasn’t in the room and she was whispering to everyone and they were all looking at me. I remember when one of the boys turned to me and asked me  “Is it true you had sex with your brother? That’s gross.”

Yea, fun times for me in childhood….Well…the teacher walked back in the room to hear all this and immediately shushed everyone and took me out of the room. Its sort of a blank here from this point, not sure how I got there but I remember standing in the hallway talking to my principal about it. My principal telling me how I needed to tell my parents otherwise my parents may go to jail if she were to tell someone.

It took me about a week I think to tell my parents. I remember my principal asking me every day if I had told anyone (and I can guarantee you, each one of these days I had been raped, as my principal had a moral dilemma in calling the police on my parents) I was the responsible for protecting me, there was no adult who could help me. I was the one who had to say something to my parents, and I had to risk my parents blaming me. Because I was a kid who didn’t know what was going to happen. I was a kid who let it happen, as far as I could understand.

But eventually I told. My older brother at this point was finally in high school. Going to a different school, I had a matter of a short time window to talk to my mom before he got home. I remember walking in the door right after school, putting my back pack upstairs in my room, then running down stairs to find my mom in the master bedroom folding laundry. I remember as I said “Mom?” and she is looking down at the laundry she is folding when she absentmindedly says “Yes, Sweetie?” And then I just take a deep breath and go for the kill: “Me and Jason had sex.”

I remember my mom’s face jerking up, wide eyed, looking at me, as she gasps “WHAT?!” and she has me come over there to the bed, pull down my pants and  put my legs in the air while she looks at me. She was confused because I didn’t look scarred up, so I then told her it was “in the butt.” I black out here. I can’t remember what happened. I can’t to this day. The one who knows, either just was a kid who actually forgot the details or they just aren’t sharing them. I just remember, suddenly, he was gone.

I thought, can it be? I am safe? Oh, but no, I was not safe. Remember at first I was first afraid to tell anyone because I thought why anger a boy who you have to live with and always have a chance to hurt you? I thought he’d just get spanked or grounded and he’d always hate me for it and I’d forever be in danger…Then I think I was wrong because he’s sent away….But then, my fears get proven true, as he was brought back. Not exactly directly back living with me at first, but I mean he was allowed back into the family, as part of the family, as if nothing had happened. So I had to go back to feeling like I had no right to keep him from looking at my body or touching my body, and some how I was wrong for not wanting to let him look at me or hug me. Some how I was wrong because I didn’t like him. I had to keep dissociating and dissociation kept me alive when I wanted to die. I was 8 years old and I wanted to kill myself. Our counterpart, Connie, is only 8 years old and she wants to kill herself too. Because there is no way out. We’re trapped. My parents, totally shocked and distraught by this incident between two of their children, didn’t have anger like I would have expected them to. They for some reason had pity and a soft heart for this “little boy.” This was detrimental.

Ah, that’s it, that’s where I got this idea. This rationalization that my brother was just an innocent troubled boy. I got this as a child learning from their parents, trying to be like the grown up role models in my life. Where did my parents get this thought? This is what my parents were being told by psychologists and doctors who were examining his brain. This is what the church clergy were trying to tell them too. Pray for him, they’d all say. And then, we come down to the fear of others knowing. Well, the thing is, everyone already knew. I told my whole class. But yet, my parents didn’t think maybe I needed to go to a different school. So I had to live this duality of I told everyone the truth, and then I have to turn around to pretend that truth was a lie.

I was told, by my parents, to not tell anyone what happened to Jason or why he left. If anyone asks, it was just him “being a bad kid, skipping school, smoking, etc.” and he needed help.

What was the reason for this? Well, as a child, I guess I understood it as this is what Jesus would do, because only God can judge and we are supposed to love our enemies. And if I prayed hard enough, God can heal and change anything because he is God. That is what makes me a better person than my enemies, having faith in God and not hating them. I later learned, what happened was a shameful embarrassing thing for me and my family. Is there any other way for it to be? Is it possible for adults around my family, and kids in my class who knew me, to forget about what happened and not judge the family for it? What happened wasn’t my fault but if anyone publicly found out about it THAT would be my fault. People were always asking me, neighborhood kids showed up at the house when my parents were gone, trying to get it out of me. I had to reason that there was a reason I couldn’t tell anyone about it. I had to reason, that my parents had my best interests involved. I also had to reason that their decision to help him and bring him back into the family was a logical one.

And so I did. I reasoned. I rationalized. What else could they do? If anyone knew, my life and my family’s lives would be over. If anyone found out, would my dad lose his job? Would my mom? Would people attack our house? Would we be egged and toilet papered and have burning crosses in the yard and people screaming that the perv family needed to leave town? Would the kids be EXTRA mean to me, worse than they already were? My parents surely must have been traumatized themselves from the situation. They just could not see anything but that little boy they remembered, even though he was nearly a full grown man, at 16 years old, when I exposed the truth. Would people blame my parents? My little empathetic 8 year old heart loved my mom and dad and wished them no harm. I couldn’t let anyone hurt them. I had to protect them, hide their bad choices, hide them from myself even, just like they wanted to brush away my brother’s bad choices too. I guess I learned it from watching them.

I’m still this way, to this day. I don’t want to put my parents down. I don’t want to think they are some terrible selfish people. I just can’t. My brain won’t let me. It’s like against nature, to try to demonize your parents. If they were truly horrible people, then I can’t have my parents anymore. I don’t believe they are horrible people. I think they were selfish and afraid. I think though, if they had had adequate help in making their decision instead of fears of public shame that maybe they wouldn’t have done this. So I just can’t hold my parents completely responsible. I partly blame the pressures of society of that time.

Is this incorrect of me? Should I be trashing my parents? When, other than their decisions to brush my rape under the rug and forget it, they always made sacrifices for their kids and were always loving? Here is the predicament I am in. However true it may be that my parents made this decision to keep a secret and not excommunicate my brother from the whole family, they were also pushed by outsiders to make such a decision. Freaking medical and psychiatric professionals, for crying out loud, thought this was the best course action to convince my parents to do. I understand the Catholic church hiding it because well, all religions have pedophilia in it and are taught to hide that from the world because God doesn’t exactly shame it any where in that bible. I never understood the rest of the world though. The whole world thinks that this shouldn’t be talked about. The whole world ties families together so there isn’t a bad apple but a whole damn rotten basket. The whole world would blame my parents for all of it, like they taught my brother about sex themselves or something. The whole world would look at me like I’m a gross broken product of a bad family. None of that is true, we aren’t bad people, but that is how we would have been treated if we didn’t try to make our family appear as it once did, before the tragedy.

Or was it all true? Would it have been that way? It is possible to keep privacy and safety without outright trying to keep it completely secret? It is possible that my parents had other options they could have done, but they were too difficult to achieve? For example, we could have changed schools. But, there were no schools but this one within walking distance and we were walkers without a ride to school. Private elementary and middle schools also had no school bus option, that was only public schools. Should we have not the top education because of this? We could have moved. But, my parents were pretty much struggling, as they put four kids through private school, and financially that wasn’t really an option either. So what choice did my parents have?

I’m trying to say that I understand how my parents felt their options were limited, even though their decisions did hurt me still. However, the only thing I can’t really explain is why they decided what my brother did was not a crime as serious as I did. I cannot explain why when you do an adult act, you are still looked upon as a small innocent child. This makes me think back to the witch hunt days when people would be burned just because a mischievous child said they were a witch. Because back then, it was believes a child wouldn’t lie. I hope in modern times we learn that children can do horrific acts, and just because they are smaller people, it doesn’t make it a “smaller” crime. A crime as serious as planned violence or rape or murder are definitely signs of a brain malfunctioned and it’s not repairable. This isn’t just a brother pushing his sister down and she accidentally broke her arm from it. This is psychological manipulation and it takes effort to be this cruel. Why is it my parents saw him as more of a victim than they saw me?

I have a few theories to how this train of though happened….First of all, my mother is an emotional wreck and she has always been in denial of her kids doing anything wrong (hey, even me.) I don’t know why, perhaps some maternal protective measure that the offspring must survive at all costs, but she’s just adamant about how her little babies are always her babies. She equates protecting them with hiding their faults so they don’t get in trouble too…The psychs and docs said they believed I was “young enough to forget.” So that first of all minimized my crime. Second, the doctors talked about him like he had an illness, and he does, however this is not a curable illness or an illness only affecting him. It is a dangerous one that makes him hurt others. Also pedophilia is not really as much a mental illness as it is a literal sexual attractions, just like being straight, gay, bisexual, polysexual, or asexual, or whatever is your pleasure. Third, clergy from our church had talked of guilt and fear and prayer which must have helped push my parents to not punish him. They were also told that shame would fall on me if people found out my brother was sent away because of me and they should want to protect me from that. So, if it were merely my parents’ decision alone, I could probably hate them more.

In reality though, I hate the whole damn society that breeds this way of thinking. My parents’ made the right choice as their first reaction. They called the police and immediately had my brother taken out in handcuffs and my mom turned away from him in tears as he begged her not to let the police take him… because I know this much about police taking him, I know my parents  did want to protect me and were just as traumatized and hurt as me emotionally. I believe emotional trauma is far more crippling than physical trauma alone. Because I’ll tell you the truth, I am over the physical assault. It’s not really my problem. My triggers aren’t anything to do with violence or rape. I’m not like many with PTSD symptoms from rape who can’t watch it on TV or even read the word rape without a trigger warning. Other than loud noises and screaming, my triggers are emotional situations, feelings of helplessness, loss of control, feeling like I hurt another, guilt, anger…..Those things trigger me. Those are the things I can’t deal with. It was the emotional trauma that was harder to heal. It is the emotional trauma that keeps me split, keeps these walls up so this body can keep living, hiding away the scars. Yes, I am still denied some knowledge about the details of what exactly was done to me by my abusers (yes, I say “abusers” plural because I am realizing I was abused by more than just my brother). The reason I don’t know is not because I can’t get over the facts, it’s because the emotions I will experience from that moment it happened would be too much for me still.

We’ve discovered, Jey is adamant they can be the “gatekeeper” and help us all function as a balanced system. Jey believes they have the ability to connect everyone and can have us all live life like we all are living it together, unless one of us chooses to step away. Jey also believes they are the most neutral of all and only by them taking control can we find a way to live our life. Does this mean I will finally have no trouble in communicating at all with the others? I think this will be really interesting. Jey still has me off in a separate part from the others, not sure I’m strong enough to connect yet. So we will see if one day Jey lets up and I know all the memories too, with the rest of them. I’m afraid, but the curiosity is killing me more….

If I can get strong enough to handle this, maybe the revelation and us all connected at the same time will help me know how to feel about my parents. I mean, I know some are very hateful toward my mother and completely adore my dad. These are some issues we have to find a common ground on. I do think these issues are more to do with some conflict I have with my parents unrelated to their decisions about my brother and my rape. Are my parents toxic or is the damage done, over and we can get past it? As I said, their first instinct was to call the police and have him hauled out of there immediately. So that has to count for something. I don’t know if my parents know all the information. I discovered from my rapist’s exwife that though I knew Jason had told her what happened he lied about how it happened and how MUCH. He said he did it once, when I was in kindergarten. So not the truth. I have to get strong enough to sit down to ask them what did Jason tell them, if I cannot get the memories that I know this answer already (I don’t seem to know this answer, nobody inside my system seems to know how much my parents were told or if I told them how long it had been going on? I just don’t feel like he would have offered up that information if he didn’t have to….)

I may be able to have a relationship with my parents still. I may also discover that that will only be possible after they validate me saying Jason is not my brother, he is my rapist, I hate him and never will love him and I erase him from my life. They may not be able to let go of their decision to see him as having done time for a crime and having been helped and just needing help. This may be for their own mental sanity, unable to handle the truth…Hey, as someone who’s been traumatized and suffered dissociation, I can understand not handling the truth. I just don’t know which way to go with this. I just don’t know. I think this is still looks like trying to rationalize my parents decisions, but I don’t know if it is. Because I don’t think they made the right decision, but I understand how they felt pressured into a decision, and perhaps even brainwashed into believing it because of a religious devotion says God heals everything. How can you argue with that?

Not unless you become an atheist……like most of the parts inside me are now.

The children still believe in some sort of God, one of them is still Catholic, one of us is agnostic, one of us is a Celtic druid pagan priestess, one of use is a magical wood sprite frolicking in nature and one of us actually is a guardian angel who shines a light into the darkness….but you know the angel, Justice, never directly claims any religious path in particular over another and who knows if my fairy sprite, Zoey, is actually a demon instead? ha…but I accept all of me. All of us. Soon, we will make sense of this and if we have to mourn the loss of our parents before they are actually deceased, then I hope we have a strong enough support system of people outside us to hold us together.

I was talking to my boyfriend about this last night and said something really deep to think about:

“What it comes down to is, does it give you any joy to have your parents in your life still?”

He asked this because his dad was a toxic person and he had decided he needed to cut contact. His life has been much better, mostly because there was never any joyful experience when he was with his dad and he never felt a bond or like his dad even knew anything about him. My boyfriend said he does notice how much I like talking to my mom on the phone (except when she starts mentioning certain things that upset me) and he notices I always talk about my dads jokes and pranks and how much he makes me laugh and smile. So it comes down to is the hurt greater than the joy they bring me? Can I find happiness without the joys my parents gave if I decide to cut them out? Am I still trying to rationalize? Is this a simple answer that I just can’t get myself to grasp onto because it hurts too much to feel like I don’t have parents at all? And then going further, it’s like I don’t have a family at all because nobody lives in my reality with me.


What if we could be on T.V.? Would you watch us? We are curious and apprehensive about an assistant TV producer who contacted us today

So Jess was contacted via twitter by an assistant TV producer over in the UK. She connected with her through Facebook and did a phone chat via Facebook messenger with her. I’m not going into too much detail about it until I know where it’s going, but basically they want to pitch an idea for a documentary and multiples/dissociative identity disorder will be a subject in it. Before they do pitch it, they want to have some reliable people willing to be involved. So, they contacted Jess when they found us on twitter. I don’t really know of all that was said in the conversation, Jess just kind of gave me the short version before dipping out.

Of course I have the parts in me who are questioning and untrusting….I have some selves with some very paranoid theories. I mean, I understand why but I don’t think we are that important, ourselves, for us to be part of any of these conspiracies. Ha. I just don’t think we are that important at all.

I’m only out here telling my story to better other people and help them move up in their life. I feel I am at the peak of my existance and I am quite content with accepting the hardships of life along with the joys. I know it’s going to be an interesting ride until it’s over. I know my struggle isn’t over yet either. I still find a reason to smile. I want to show others they can too, but I don’t feel like I’m that important of a person to listen to.

Yet here this lovely woman found me and contacted me, asking if I was interested in being involved. I just feel my luck couldn’t go any better. I just want to be normal and have people accept my reality. Then I can help other multiples have hope that they can gain some sort of balance too, and find a way to live a semblence of “normalcy” for them. And by normal, I don’t mean the socially accepted “normals.” I mean the dictionary simple explanation of what is average and balance for you that isn’t chaotic. That’s what “normal” is to me so don’t try to put too much weight into my words.

Oh man…. I am trying to focus to write this right now but others are just giving me dissociation. I’m experiencing physical pain in my nerves of my fingertips, because they want me to stop typing. My vision is blurring as I’m struggling to keep the control in my body and my mind.

I hear a voice in my head yell “I’m DONE talking about this!”

I’m not sure who but I’m guessing it’s June because the children are whining that talking about it is sad and they are also very bored. June usually tries to take the attention off the younger children, as a means to protect them. I’m not even mad at anything though, it’s still just a natural protective reaction we are working on reprogramming.

OK so let me just use the last of my energy to keep this executive control to say, I hope they get some backing behind this documentary/show idea they want to do. I was basically told that their goal is very similar to ours: showing the every day, real, human, life of those who live with D.I.D. instead of being like other documentaries that are about studies, numbers, and more educational. It’s just like how we want to start a podcast where the guests are other multiples who just talk about their hobbies and life, to SHOW what D.I.D. and not try to explain it with scholarly explanations and faceless examples in a study.

Anyone in the UK follow me think this would be a cool idea? Wouldn’t it be great if people can see that we really aren’t that different than anyone else?

Anyone in the UK know anything about production companies and maybe know about this one that contacted me?

Ok finally I must dip out….the others are having quite a fuss. They sometimes get stressed when we have to do too many responsibilities, and typing this so we can remember this occurred is technically my responsibility. (I’m Zsi Zsi) so it is “a” responsibility, and it’s overwhelming to some inside. One of us can say more on this later.

I’m finally saying it: ABUSE IS NO EXCUSE. Permanent lock down needed for children who rape children. Protect society from them forever. My story proves why.


I am a victim of child-on-child sexual abuse. I have suffered my entire life from it. I am now 35 years old, I have been on SSDI disability income for about 6 or 7 years when I finally broke down because I couldn’t protect myself from abuse in my adult life, on top of the abuse from childhood unhealed. I suffer with PTSD, dissociation, anxiety, depression, self harm, memory issues, agoraphobia, and eating disorders. I suffer with isolation, lack of identity, bad decisions and bad relationships because I couldn’t know how to care about myself to make healthy life choices. I couldn’t make it through high school, and I continually try to go back to college but my disorder makes this difficult. I’m constantly struggling to keep jobs….I’m constantly struggling to keep FRIENDS too as my disorder pushes them away or they cannot understand me….My disorder makes this all difficult. My every day life is  a struggle and confusion.

I work hard to heal myself but it’s not easy. It’s constant suffering. I have to feel pain I’ve been numbing my whole life in order to heal. I have physical ailments related to the abuse I suffered as a child, including painful bladder syndrome (interstitial cystitis) and I have back pain and spinal issues. Do you understand how I am suffering to this day, from something that happened in my childhood decades ago? Do you see how I cannot escape a permanent crime scene: my very body? While they get to walk away from the crime scene and forget (or actually, be left with their happy memories of what they did to me.) Since I am trapped here for life, I believe all sex offenders, of ANY age when they offend, deserve to be trapped for life also. They need life imprisonment of some sort, to permanently protect society, too.

People chose to try to help the teenager who had been raping me for years and raped me the first time when I was not even in school yet.  He was the boy who was a person of authority in my life that betrayed that trusted responsibility to protect me. He was the boy my parents trusted to babysit for just the short time of 45 minutes to an hour while my dad drove to my mom’s work. That short time was all the time he needed, 5 days a week for 5 straight years to rape me until I told on him. My parents never pressed charges. He goes into a group home. He come’s out, at 18, with a case manager to help him get a job and find a place to live. I was 10 years old when he was released from the group home. I had to sit with him and my parents and his therapist so he could give me his “apology” and “explanation” for his actions while everyone congratulated him on his “big day” and this big achievement for him (nice job. way to go. way to give the narcissist his narcissistic feed, everybody) I was a very minor person involved in this story, even though I should be the main character. I’m told to forgive him and love him, for “bad things happened to him to make him the way he is.” And of course I can’t be mad at him because it’s not his fault, right?

I received about 6 months of therapy and that was it. He got help for years, and my parents continued to help him and enable him in adulthood by letting him move back in (and I was still a child living there, and he was now an adult who was left alone with me. The same person who raped me just a few short years before.). He ends up living a normal life, welcomed back into our family, and no one in the family but a few ever knew what he did. He marries, has children, divorces, remarries, takes college courses, has a career, changes to another career, buys a house with cats and dogs.  He gets to do what every other average person gets to do. He is my own brother, and my own parents said they didn’t want to “ruin his life” by pressing charges and making him a sex offender for life, nor did they want to see him in prison, where he “might get hurt” being such a small guy. Oh, yes, they couldn’t ruin his life…

However, by doing this, they ruined MY life. They made me feel like my body was not mine, and what was done to it was meaningless. As if what he did had not hurt me in any way at all. I was forced to dissociate from the reality of everything I suffered so much that it permanently damaged me, BUT with dissociation I appeared to be okay. They believed they did the right thing, because I was smiling in the presence of the man who raped me and treating him like a brother, after he had seen and touched and violated every orifice of my body inside and out, starting from my age of 3 years old and he was only 11 years old.

I have a traumatic brain injury and a fracture of identity. I have complex post traumatic stress disorder and dissociative identity disorder, and it has been a constant struggle for me my whole life. I will continue to suffer the rest of my life, on disability, having lost my own child because of abuse and memory issues and manipulated to give legal guardianship that led to adoption. I cannot suffer any more for what has happened to me. I cannot let this happen to anyone else.

This choice also ruined other people’s lives…..First of all, my daughter’s life was ruined when the mom she deserved to have was taken from her because of the effects of abuse and the minimizing of of it. Then as well, from that day on, any of the women he was involved with he still was abusive to — physically, sexually, emotionally, psychologically, financially…….EVERY SINGLE WAY POSSIBLE TO ABUSE he has continued to abuse. He walks through the world protected because no one feels it’s right to speak up about what he does, instead trying to find reasons and pity for him for why he does what he does.  There were signs he molested his own daughter too, possibly making his son and daughter do sexual things together for his pleasure. Yet, he has gotten so good at getting sympathy and pity from people, he convinced his wife it wasn’t true. And so again, he was never charged.

He has been in and out of jail in his entire adult life. He is now over 40, always struggling with drug and alcohol abuse. His first wife knew about what he did and he was honest and said he “paid his dues.” Which my parents always like to remind me that he “did his time” now that I am healing and told them he is no brother to me.  He did NO time. He was coddled for TWO SHORT YEARS in a home for troubled boys. He barely had any time in juvenile detention, and never prison. Yet here he’s convinced people he’s REALLY suffered fairly somehow, for the daily rape he gave me for 5 STRAIGHT YEARS in the beginning of my very life. It was all I knew for the first years of my life. He has not suffered at all.

His second and current wife, however, knows nothing about what he did. Then, I hear she called his ex wife one day to ask if I and he had ever “done anything” or if something had happened between my brother and I when I was young. Apparently, his new wife had discovered him looking at porn…..And not just ANY porn……CHILD PORNOGRAPHY……And even worse, not just ANY child porn, but specifically “brother-sister” and incest related.

He is not a good person, and he will never be a good person. It’s hard to think of children as unfixable, because they are still developing but the thing is, if you are born without empathy, it cannot be taught. What my parents taught him, is that if he can con someone into feeling pity for him then he can get away with murder. He was not sorry for what he did, he was sorry he got caught. By not pressing charges to make him a sex offender for life and by not exposing him, instead hiding his crimes, they enabled him to hurt many more people.

It’s apparently hard for adults to accept that sexual desires are unchangeable. They don’t know what to do if they show these sexual desires in the very beginning of their youth, the moment they hit puberty, because they don’t think of kids even having sex. Maybe they think since kids shouldn’t have sex, that kid’s sexual desires shouldn’t exist either. Who knows. I think since we are in an age that we know you can’t stop someone from being homosexual or trans, then you cannot talk them out of being a pedophile or having sexual pleasure while another suffers without concern for their life. THAT IS A PERMANENT FLAW IN THEIR BRAIN. In order to keep children and society safe from whatever horrible thing they will do (even if it’s not sexual assault related) they need to be permanently excommunicated or life imprisonment. They don’t deserve a second chance to hurt someone.

You may say “but they are CHILDREN!” Yes, but their victims were also children. And as that predatory child grows up, it will be an adult and continue to be a predator to women and children. Which child is the one you should really care about protecting? NO ONE EVER stops being a pedophile. No one (man or woman) who has sexually assaulted or even just sexually harassed can ever be taught not to think that way. They can be shamed by society. They can be THREATENED by lawsuits and jail too. Yet, trust me, they won’t change inside. The first temptation they have, they will always take it. These people will spend the rest of their life fighting these dangerous urges so they don’t get punished but they will always re-offend. It’s statistically proven that the majority will. We need to look at the facts and the numbers. So if someone has to spend the rest of their life ignoring and controlling a sexual desire, imagine how long and difficult of a time a child has ahead of them. You don’t think they will re-offend  within that very long time left in their life to fight these urges? Unlike convicted adults who only have ten or twenty years, we’re talking 50, 60 years for child offenders to ignore this.  And what will they do to satisfy themselves until the point they completely give in to their desires? They will just be disgusting criminals and abuse in some other way for pleasure. We all make excuses about how passion and sexuality takes away your ability to reason. Which is why we always excuse male’s behavior and blame the woman for exposing skin or flirting. We make excuses for child offenders like they aren’t permanently going to want the pleasures they sought in the first place. It’s time we stop this and see the facts. Sexual assault and sexual abuse and sexual harassment are the signs of dangerous people. Period. Even if not sex crimes, they will abuse and harm people, children, animals. Facts show this truth.

I have learned, that sexual assault is something more than just “boys being boys” and not controlling hormones for either sex. I have learned, it is a serious flaw in the mental capacity of a human being that cannot ever be reversed. They are con artists and anyone who has the ability to violate another creature, making them an object and not alive, is the most dangerous person in the world. That IS a sociopath, and sociopaths can also be CHILDREN. No matter how much you want to be in denial, it’s dangerous to not accept this truth. This is a person that can commit any crime, anything to satisfy themselves. They may never rape again because they don’t want to be caught for that, but trust me they will be a sexual deviant and if they see they can get away with sexual assault in a circumstance, the temptation may be too much.  These people cannot see that another human being has a right to their own life and body, over their own desire to satisfy themselves. These people are capable of murdering someone without any remorse too.

These people are also children. And it’s sad and hard to accept but we have to. We have to start protecting the innocent children and keep the offending ones away from all children permanently. Stop coddling and protecting offenders, because you want to believe its natural to want to violate people when you are a child and that they just need “taught differently.” Once you do an adult act like this, you cease to be able to be viewed as a child, in my opionion. This is how they developed their sexual desires in their puberty, this is what they will carry into adulthood biologically no matter what, and they are permanently set brain patterns. You cannot stop a pedo from being a pedo, no matter how young you catch that pedo.

There is one exception. A child in any type of cult may have been taught that this is what they are supposed to do. However, it is not inherent in their being to WANT to do and they CAN be taught other ways. For the most part though, pedophilia is a sexual orientation, just like being straight or gay or bi or asexual or pansexual or anything. This is a dangerous sexual orientation because it doesn’t have consenting adults and can permanently damage or kill the victims. It takes a complete disconnection from reality for a child or teen to be able to do this to another child, and getting pleasure while they suffer. So you’d have to work hard to prove to me that someone actually TOLD that kid they needed to do this and it was right to do this and prove to me that kid didn’t enjoy it and will want to do it again….Brainwashing is real, I know. However is it mostly the case in child sexual abuse that the offender was brainwashed to do it? I think not. It’s possible, but not enough to consider excusing all pedophiles who are not adults legally (even though it’s them at puberty, so that is the start of physical “adult” in the world of biology.)

All I have read and my own personal experiences prove to me, you cannot prove that they were brain washed or didnt enjoy it for most cases. So don’t even try to consider this in the first place until signs say a cult was involved. See that “offending child” as not a child but as an offender. A very dangerous one.  If we could lock these children away the rest of their lives, imagine how many more innocent children we could ACTUALLY SAVE.

In the words of Spock:
Sacrifice one to save the many.

A child knows they are not allowed to touch other kids, so don’t tell me that they didn’t have a choice in their actions. Even if they were abused, actions are choices. So, like I said, unless you can prove they were told to do this and forced to do it because of a cult making them against their will, it was 1000% that child’s personal choice to please themselves at what ever cost. It is that child who is uncaring about another individual. You can’t say they didn’t know what they do is wrong, because my 11 year old brother was smart enough to threaten me not to tell mom and dad or he’d “beat my ass.” He knew what he was doing and he was sick at that age, and he is STILL sick and manipulating people now. I fear for the grandchildren in his life that belong to his wife’s adult children. Now there is nothing I can do. I can only share my story and try to save others.

And just so you know, I do understand some of these offenders may have been abused themselves. I wish I could stop all child abuse, I really do. However, your individual decisions are YOUR choice. We don’t ask adult criminals what happened to them in their childhood to make them live this life, because it’s a choice. Maybe you want to pretend since children can’t legally consent to things that maybe their choices are really their own, but they are. It doesn’t matter what was done to them, it matters what they are now. That is, a permanent danger to society. You don’t have to be mean to them, you can keep them all in a group home forever for all I care.  Let them have a life with people in the same situation.  We can invent a program for that maybe. And then they are only a danger to each other. Give them all the psychological help they need of course, too. They are going to need a lot of it to understand why they have to live away from society their rest of their life. They are just going to have to accept that they don’t fit into society and if it’s not their fault they are the way they are then they just have to accept what IS their fault. Which is, their own personal decision for sexual gratification. The chemicals released when you release sexual gratification are made to bond two people together, essentially ADDICTED to each other as they are addicted to the rush of the orgasm with euphoria. So here, when a sex offender does his assault, he is further becoming addicted and will crave that as bad as an addict craves heroine. We need to see the reality of this. No more coddling and forgiving child on child sexual abuse. They are NOT innocent little children. I AM a child with their innocence lost forever…Lost so soon, I never even got to know what “innocence” was, having been raped at 3 years old, by my own sick brother.

So curb your tongue when you want to have sympathy for minors who are sex offender when you talk to me. I know you THINK this is “compassion.” THIS IS NOT COMPASSION! THIS is minimizing the crime and enabling.

I lastly just want to say, the biggest mistake every one makes is the assumption that a child is “young enough to forget” so that excuses the behavior of the offender somehow. I did not forget. My mind just stored the memories away until I was strong enough to deal with it one day. Although, stronger I am, I don’t know if I am strong enough. What this entails is all my other selves coming forward, facing all the trauma and pain, then trying to learn to live life together inside our mind and heal everything together. Even if I couldn’t quite recall the memory of what happened, it did do permanent damage to my brain to make me react like it was continuously happening.

We. Never. Forget.

Don’t you forget.

Brace yourself to be p*ssed off by words of the angst-y teen June about Sex-Ed and over-sexualization related to sexual abuse. I found a ramble she wrote and posting it, cuz what the hell, let’s p*ss off the internet. LMAO (no but seriously, just showing you what it’s like in my head)

You know I wish men and women would stop just trying to “keep sex sexy” and realize its for reproduction. Realize that females can die for just minutes of male pleasure.. Guys and gals, come on….Is it worth that? In the old days, it makes sense we would only think of pleasurable benefits. For the sake of survival, nature can’t have us scared to die in childbirth or we’d go extinct. So, nature takes the choice away by blinding you with hormonal distractions that wipe out logic of self preservation in order to bring in the next generation. Continuing the race of beings.

Now, overpopluations and starvation on the earth is a problem. Now, humans are evolved intellectual beings and do not need these primitive urges to override logic. We can make rational decisions about how to better the human race. Time to change society and start teaching how reproduction works before puberty hits so they don’t over-sexualize things when puberty actually hits. I know, it is only natural to notice something you find appealing and attractive. That’s not the problem. It would be nice if we could appreciate things visually and separate the need to touch physically. Controlling arousal isn’t hard if you are used to doing it, and lets be honest, this world DOES encourage you to let your sexual desires run rampant so why don’t we start teaching the young they need to control it?

Nobody talks about reproduction but sex is everywhere and children aren’t protected from it completely. There’s no way to keep children from seeing it, even in children’s shows making girls look more grown than they should. We are taught from our youth that our bodies are for pleasure. This is wrong. If we as selfish adults need our sexualized stuff to feel happy, then at least do your youth a favor and explain the simple science of how our bodies work. Explain the dangers involved, and teach them the “look but don’t touch” philosophy. Do it before they reach the age to desire to use those reproductive parts, not understanding its more that their body wants to make a baby even if they don’t. They need to be aware their mind is tricking them and it’s not that they just want pleasure physically. There is a purpose and they need to know that purpose has serious consequences not to be taken lightly. Not to scare them (i mean it’s not like we avoid talking about war in history which would scare kids too so why avoid this?) but to have them understand how big the responsibility is to be a parent, and how much they should really love and respect their parents for risking lives to bring them into the world and even after their birth, still willing to die if necessary to save them.

Our bodies are for living and yes there are pleasurable experience we all seek in life. Yet we need to think that reproduction is a choice to be willing to die for the next generation. If you do not have a paternal desire as a woman where you are willing to die for children or as a man willing to watch your woman die to bring your child into the world, then perhaps you should work harder at controlling your sexual urges. They have serious life threatening consequences.

Boo-hoo, sad life without sex right? Well, sad life without LIFE at all, idn’t ‘nit? Sex isn’t safe, ever. It’s always a risk, but you decide if the thrill is worth it. That’s the way everythign in life is. Suffering for growth. Hate me, but that’s my point of view. Which, I am allowed my point of view. You will not sway me. If you disagree with me, kindly refrain from replying, because I likely already know how you feel and I don’t care. I will promptly remove your malicious comments, and if necessary remove any from my friends/follows any where on social media if you try to attack me. Go ahead and try, because you feel ashamed of yourself for not being able to control your sexual urges, and I made you feel bad about yourself by pointing this out. Just keep your opinions to yourself, the world already agrees with you, no need for you to say anything to me, just one lonely voice on the net. To do so is to prove that little ol’ me has immense power over you. I’m only vocalizing my opinion because the world needs to hear another option to think about that nobody else has thought of before. I don’t expect it to immediately click, but maybe it will help spark a change in how we look at teaching kids not “sex ed” but “REPRODUCTION education.” Not teaching them about safe sex but just simply teaching them “insert penis into vagina, make baby”. Why is that so bad? Why is that so embarrassing to adults? It’s silly. The future of the human race depends on us understanding this.

Why am I caring so much? what is the real reason for this? This is my plan on how we can stop child on child sexual abuse, as well as help protect children from being groomed by adults. They can say “no, I don’t want a child, I AM a child.” They can say this because they know that sex isn’t how you show love (which is the first mistake every adult says to their little kids, “When mommies and daddies love each other…” No, stop that bs. Not helpful). It will much more benefit them if they will only know that touching those parts are what grown ups do to make babies. Ok, honestly I’m mostly venting here, and I don’t think it should be as extreme as telling kids directly that they can die exactly. I do think somehow should explain that to be a parent is exciting and scary and during the process of trying to make a baby your body is set up to bond the parents together so they stay together to take care of the baby. It’s the best feeling ever when two people are in love and are ready to make a baby, and the euphoric feelings that can only come from deep love and bonding…..and all that is what makes up sexual pleasure. So they can know there are the most amazing benefits for parenthood. It’s not all suffering and pain and fear. There are joys and pleasures too. But lets be real, they need to know sex isn’t about feeling good. They should be taught when humans want to be parents then they get to have this best feeling ever. But you have to be willing to accept the risks. If you are NOT willing to make a baby or feel pain then you have to be OK with not having sex. At least get them to think this way until they are older and then they can learn alternative ways to enjoy sexual pleasure without the basic lie of you have to give your virginity to your first love. This will also help teen girls not get pressured into giving themselves no pleasure but physical pain as they give their virginity to a boy who doesn’t understand how bad he can actually hurt her (i.e. an innocent love affair becomes pregnancy, becomes a death in childbirth. how does a 16 year old boy handle knowing he is a dad responsible for another human being’s life, and the girl he “loved” and wanted to share his love with is dead? adults can learn to handle these things, but our children can’t so young and immature emotions)

Let me tell you, the earliest memory I have is one where I got raped by my brother, I was three years old, and he was 11. Somewhere he got the idea about sex, and somehow he decided he could groom me to trust him. It lasted until I was 8 and he was 16. Now had I actually been taught in kindergarten what sex was and what it was for, I would have felt more power to say something about what was happening already for two years before i even started school. And maybe, if my brother had been taught in kindergarten the true purpose of reproduction, whatever he was exposed to would not have overrode knowledge that sex is a life risk parents choose to make a baby and permanently bond with another human being. And then, maybe I wouldn’t have even been raped. yes, I know my philosophy is blunt and probably more than most people would want exposed to kids. Most see kids as so delicate, but really they are doing them no favor keeping them ignorant. Life is rough but there are good things to make it worth while. That’s how you make these facts easier for children. Keeping them oblivious to facts is a danger to them. Ignorance is never good. Believing sex is a duty, and sex is how “mommies and daddies show love” and being told that I was doing just the same, well that fucked up my whole life. I just hope someone can take my words and soften them. Somebody can think of a good child friendly way to get this point across to kids like I’d like.

Sorry if I pissed anyone off…This is my blog where I put my thoughts. And I’m just one part of this system with some thoughts. So not even everyone inside my head agrees with what I’m saying.

I am June. I’m used to be misunderstood and hated. Whatever. I’m not shutting up about serious shit we need to consider.

“MOVE!” I shout at myself from inside my head, but my body still stands in place, stiffly frozen…


I’m trying with all my might to get control of the body. I was late paying rent but I was also late paying the late rent (was given the letter but waited one more day after that to actually drop off the check). So, I got an additional charge I have to pay. Someone inside doesn’t want to live in this apartment anymore. It has become a dangerous, triggering place. I can’t go into detail to explain the experiences that may be at play to make someone else inside feel this way. But here we are, fighting each other inside the mind trying to control the body’s movement….or lack-there-of…

“Move your legs! Don’t just stand here! You HAVE to do this. WE have to do this! Stop fighting me. O-M-G give me my body back, damn it….Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

I just got no answer. I don’t know who this is fighting me. This invisible force holding me isn’t just part of my PTSD fight-flight-freeze. I can feel their presence. I would think it was the usual self destructive, trouble making, angst-y teen June, but it’s not here. I don’t know who this is….I know who knows, but they aren’t talking. I will never understand why Jey is so damn mysterious and elusive and avoidant. This isn’t cute, damn it. Yes, not a chance Jey is going to share with me today. Thinks I can’t handle the truth or something. Ha…..(gotta keep a sense of humor in these situations or you go nuts)

I’m just getting so frustrated here. I finally got control but now it’s too late to do what I needed to do. I’m in disarray. I can still get myself to write the check and drop it off but I was just on the phone with them and said I was on my way…..two hours ago…. That’s right. I’ve been standing in one place trying to utilize EVERY SINGLE technique ever learned from any therapist or self help or book read…..And it just took me that long. I couldn’t give up. No matter how long it takes. I only have this life to live and movement is always better than standing still…..Even if that “movement” is simply electrons and protons firing across synapses.

You are alive. Feel your body.

Don’t just sit there.

I see you.





The reward for the headache of trying to heal myself: knowledge of oneself acquired

I just got a piece of information from all this headache and hardwork from my last session of connection. I was in a meditative trance with Jey and they had knocked me out of my own mind deciding I had learned enough for the day. But then as I left, they left me with a new piece of information in my mind. I don’t hear the others talk. I’m the Jessica that can’t hear anybody. We write back and forth, as well as myself using guided meditation and trance states to connect to an internal world where I can interact fully with all alters. We had built a pretty complex world over there. It’s helped a lot. Anyway, the little tid bit of info I just want to post about before I forget. It was this: I have memories now of playing inside my mind with other children who looked kinda like me but kinda not. They were my only friends. I really had no friends, literally, in my childhood. Not until highschool really, but for a few random friendships that would arise and burn out fast because the peer pressure to alienate me. I never figured out why I was the one alienated but I suppose my abuse had something to do with it. So here’s the thing. I had forgotten about them. Maybe it was temporarily taken away to protect me or so I didn’t miss them. The thing is, I learned I grew up, but they didn’t. They couldn’t. Jey had to protect these parts from the world and any new pain, until one day hopefully there was healing for them. I found myself losing a lot of time when I had my nervous breakdown, going homeless, having my legal rights to my daughter stripped away forever because of a malicious con done to me by my own husband and mother-in-law. It somehow made me both weaker and stronger. I was completely broken, but then, I was finally FREE. Free from so many burdens and had a clean slate to start something new. So being stronger even in the worst part of all my suffering, this is what allowed the little children inside to “escape” and “sneak out” without Jey being able to stop them. And that is why I thought I had less “alters” than I actually have in my dissociative identity disorder system mind.

Meditating again. Trying to connect with Jey this time…So confused more than ever. I am the “ANP” Jess host.

I am sitting here, in the computer chair, back straight but relaxed, and lights low. I close my eyes. I begin to breathe deeply. I open my eye. I focus on nothing around me. Colors melt into one blurred rainbow. I listen to the music in the headphones as a way to detach from the surroundings.

I guess you could say, here is where “controlled dissociation” begins.

I’m now inside my mind. In our internal world we have worked hard to build.

I’m standing in the middle of the large field of tall grass and flowers that stretches from the Victorian style three story home that resembles a castle. At the end of the field is the thick dark wooded forrest. I hear the many sounds of many animals and insects, the sounds of nature, of life.

Usually it is daylight hours here. Right now the sky is dark. Specks of twinkling light seem to beam rays straight to the ground. I thought to myself, what strange stars? It took me a second to realize it was clouds not a night sky. There were little pin pricks in the clouds to resemble stars. It created an lovely illusion of stars connecting with earth, with the rays of light reaching the ground like sunlight would.

I thought I was alone outside. (except of course for the forrest dwellers, including a couple of the others, Zoey the wood sprite, Kiki the ferral cat, and Justice the guardian angel appears from there) Then, I see them. They are standing there, long blond and blue hair, blue lips, and a deep blue cloack that blew around them, creating an illusion of formlessness. Like water or smoke or fire. Their eyes keep constantly changing colors. I say “they/them” because that is how Jey prefers to be refered to as. Not exactly because of any transgender reason, but because they have lived most of the time inside the mind, not part of the body, so not feeling connected to the sex or gender of anything. Jey also says they are able to connect everyone to them and that to say “they/them” is also a plural usage, because Jey sees them self as able to be representative of all the system. Jey is the one who claims to be the “original” who knows all the information and controlls the inner world. Jey professes they are the “gatekeeper” of all selves. However, they have begun to explain to me that they had lost control at some point and don’t understand why.

Jey begins to talk with me:

“I know it doesn’t usually happen this way. I mean, as far as I can understand what I’ve learned from scholarly writings and other’s personal experiences. I know, for some reason I am different. So do not take my worlds as carved in stone truth for all systems. I don’t know WHY I am different though…

I told this same thing to our counselor, Violetta, if anyone else remembers. I remember very long ago, the suffering made me want to leave my body behind. I detached myself from physically feeling anything and melted into a parallel universe. I don’t know my exact physical age at this time because at this time I was too young to even understand the concept of “age.” I just know I hadn’t been in this body and life very long because I wasn’t quite completely bound to it.

I floated in this hidden parallel dimension. There was something like a doorway between the worlds, physical and metaphysical. I could still be able to hear and see what was going on outside, but I didn’t feel anything. I heard myself talking. I saw myself moving. I was not controlling any of this. That’s when I realized what I had done. And I would do it again and again, leaving behind a blank slate to learn and experience life on their own, in my place. And sometimes not even aware of me existing, even though I was always watching from the shadows and pondering the situation.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Jey was telling me they actually remember the first time we dissociated and knows why it happened. Jey was telling they had the power to control dissociation. I am just in a matter of disbelief. This is too wild. What do I do with this information, I think to myself.

Jey ends this with saying these words:

“Then one day, something changed. I wasn’t well. Somehow we all began to fight, one trying to override the other. Or, my own brain was just injured and would affect my abilities, causing the bouncing around of conscious awareness’s out of my control. Maybe there were too many of them to control. I know how I started this. But then…I just couldn’t understand how they became their own ‘little monsters’ ha-ha.”

Jey chuckles and is just teasing lovingly here. It is not an insult when they say “their own little monsters.” I smiled back at Jey. Then, they reach out their hand and a glowing sphere is floating above Jey’s hand. Inside the globe I see the faces of representation of all of us inside and some shadowy things I can’t figure out. I didn’t have much time to look at it before Jey speaks to me again.

Jey  says “This is enough for you now. You must go back now. We must rest”

I try to speak out in protest but my voice was lost in a loud and strong gust of wind. Jey closes their hand on the glowing globe and it fades out like a flame extinguished. They step back into a shadowy area and fade away. I realize the dark clouded sky above me had lost the speckles of light and before me now was sprouting a funnel cloud into the spot where Jey once was standing.

In this moment I am both in awe and thinking I’m completely fucking nuts. I’ve absolutely lost my mind. Remember this is NOT a hallucination. This just visualization. I’m in a meditative trance. So seeing this kind of stuff going on inside my mind just leaves me feeling so weird and I can’t even put it into words exactly why this is happening.

Anyway, what happens is the wind had picked me up. Literally, I’m floating here now. The tornado pushed me into it’s upward spiral and I felt the head rush. Then…blackness. Nothingness. Then, a ringing in my ears. Then, I start to feel my body again. And I realize, my eyes are closed. I open them, once again in my computer chair. I take my headphones off and take a deep breath. Why do I always have to have a racing heart and a head ache after these interactions with Jey? And I am I ever going to stop wondering am I really crazy?

This is an odd ramble found written idk when, so sharing it. Why am I different? Why not?

I don’t know what makes me different. I have this skill I’ve had all my life. This ability to escape in my mind. This ability to “fly outside my body.” I knew what I was doing, I knew when I left and some blank person would be keeping the experience, not me. At a very young preschool age I could have “out of body” experiences where I could see myself and not experience any of it. I also used to try to control my dreams. I would wake up from nightmares and dissatisfied, I lay back down remembering the dream but changing the scenario to a better one. I felt I had an amazing control over my internal universe. I have built a very elaborate world. Then, I forgot it. Then, I remembered it. Then forgot some.

This is me weaving in and out of integrated states of being.

I also have been able to see other things in a scientific way, and try to not defer too much away from the standard of scientific understanding. I have been able to make even science a spiritual experience and see my connectivity to everything around me. I saw nothing in between, because atoms exist everywhere. I had this deep need to love and protect others. I had felt love and isolation. I can’t explain it, I just know, something made me feel separate from everyone even though I saw myself as part of the whole physical universe. It was like I couldn’t connect to their hearts and souls. It was like I was the last one heard. I used to have a dream of being left behind in a our locked car, while everyone walked down a grassy hill until out of my sight. They were all holding hands, skipping and singing, and did not hear my screaming from the car.

This leads me to wonder, where does this feeling of abandonment come from?

My one brother, closest to my age and not even a whole year apart, was the only one I felt connected with. We went our separate ways as we got older but we always have been there for each other, and he is the only one I feel a “family bond” with. The one thing the other familial relationships only have is an artificial  bond made for survival, not a real bond. There are dark truths that are suppressed or repressed, or kept secret by the alters who know and experienced the bad truths. There is a reason I have most my family at a distance. They are toxic.

I still have this ability, without drugs or alcohol, to separate myself from my body, feeling like I’m outside my body to relieve the suffering. I have this ability in meditation to go deep inside too, far in my mind and work on repairing it. I just have some inner blockage now, making it more difficult. It feels like abilities I once have, were ripped from me.

My conclusion for that is some of the others withdrawing connections from me.

I’ve gotten them upset or afraid somehow.

I’ve gotten at least one trying to sabotage my life

I’ve got someone inside wanting to die.

This is so weird.

I am living as one person who is made up of many people. We are lost without much information to explain why we are the way we are. We are left with little support from community of others who claim our same diagnosis or similar situation, because we function strangely and support a unified life.

There are no answers to why we are different. Counselors expect us to be more fragmented and less concrete. They respond to us negatively when we talk of others inside, not understanding we want to be known for ourselves and not treated like our very real feelings don’t matter. The counselors are very primitive with their techniques and they don’t understand, we just are existing. We can’t “un exist.” We can’t. We can learn to live unified but not a uni-self. Nobody goes away. We have to just change some of our perceptions.

I’m going to figure this out.

I am Jey, by the way. The closest thing to an “original” or “core self” “first Jessica/Jessica Version 1.0 Beta”…. Or what ever. Ha. See I have accumulated a sense of humor the more I connect and interact with other parts and the body itself (which I often don’t connect with. more times just like living as a sort of “voice in my head.” )

Conversations with June and a surprise internal discovery…which one of us June is really protecting and lashing out for.

June is shouting again. She is losing it.

“I’m sick of the disrespect! I’m sick of you making us go back there!”

We have to go back there, June…

“We work our asses off for these fucks and what the shit do they care about us?!”

A lot of them care quite a lot about us, June. They are very understanding. We aren’t even having an issue at work. Nobody has a problem with us. It’s over. We explained things as best we could and people don’t see us as a problem. We are very helpful. They do appreciate us. They do care.

“No, they don’t give a shit. They can’t even remember the shit you tell them. They know about PTSD, right? They should not loud and aggressive voices are a trigger issue. I mean we can handle customers because they are just passing through, but we need to feel safe at work. We can’t feel safe if they choose to be snarky, rude, and make blatant disrespectful comments to our face. To be a good manager doesn’t require you to be a dick when you discipline. Trying to embarrass or shame us is IN-FUCKING-TOLERABLE! They know you have a memory problem and that’s not your fault. Yet when you can’t remember where something is, they say that’s no excuse. WHAT THE FUCK?”

I can’t expect people to think this way when we don’t show them any sign of being bothered. That’s part of the curse and the benefit of dissociation, derealization, and depersonalization. I can detach myself from feeling, momentarily. Show no sign of suffering. Or one of you guys will take over if I begin to lose strength and falter. I mean we are so fluid in our switches no one can even see it. Only a few out of this very large bunch really stick out – i.e. noticeable changes in tastes/opinions/demeanor/tone of voice. We just have to try harder to explain ourselves.

“NO! I’m SICK of TRYING! I’m sick of it. These people can never understand. We need to quit. I want out. I’m tired of us suffering when something out of our control happens. We do our fucking best yet people don’t even fucking believe that! I mean, PLUS suffering in constant pain on top of it! How can any body be pressured to to more than what they are obviously already trying very hard to do! GOD DAMN IT! I fucking hate this place. And fuck them for not standing up for us to corporate and fuck them for not caring that we are triggered because it’s not important enough for them to remember. Fuck this job. Fuck corporate and their money minded empty fucking hearts. Fuck them for crossing the line way to far!”

June, we are not backing down. I know you don’t like the place’s policies, but truly they are more of an annoyance than an issue.

“No this is about respect. RESPECT FOR OURSELVES. We don’t need to be treated like this…”

They are just following procedures. We must find a way to get accustomed to it. You were out of line, regardless of the way they treated us afterward. They are humans with feelings too and are allowed to express their feelings. We handled it. We are okay now but we need to find better ways for you to get your points across. This is not working.

“I said it before, Jess, and I will say it again…I will NOT fucking apologize for defending my friend, myself and other people I care about. People YOU should give a fuck about too.”

Never said I didn’t. However, I don’t bother with meaningless squabble. I was thankful to be rid of a problem, not trying to make another one. This is how the world works. In between a transition from too harsh to not sure what’s too far, we just throw everything into unacceptable if it makes anyone upset for any reason. The way the world works is, the one who complains first wins. I would have been happy to discuss with her the issues she had that were unreal, and frankly put the truth in it’s place, but then again, people who are manipulative know the truth already.  All this doesn’t matter now, because you already had done what you did. What hurt you so much that you had to try to break this girl? What made her worth your time? She was a tiny flounder amongst sharks we need to worry about.

“You know what, fuck it. I’m tired of this bullshit. She was just a piece of shit like every other person who ever told lies about good people like us and she tried to make us out to be the very thing we hate and FUCK THIS SHIT! EVERYONE in this fucking world is bullshit and why do I have to hurt every day for them? Why do I have to keep fucking hurting to keep them happy? Stay around because people will miss you or people “need you” they all say? But so basically their happiness is more important than amount of suffering I am in. FUCK IT! FUCK THEM! LET ME DIE. I WANT TO FUCKING DIE. I CAN’T ANY MORE! LET ME DIE LET ME DIE LET ME DIEEEE!! LET. ME. FUCKING. DIIIIIE!!!!”

We are inside, on the mental plane of existence where we have built our internal world that helps us communicate. Outside of a three story large Victorian style white house, a long field of tall grass is where we stand. I see her here several feet in front of me, with stringy brown hair looking at me over the brim of large round wire frame glasses. Red faced from screaming. Arms folded across her chest. I see her looking around….I try to see what she’s looking at. It’s not inside, it’s outside of us, here. I hadn’t realize that she was controlling the body while I was meditating here speaking with her. She’s seeking something….Something for……..oh no. Here we go again. I have to call on some others to help me restrain the force of that emptiness June carries, that makes her want to find a way to die and end the suffering. The others I call on now are standing next to me – Jey, EvaMarie, Morrighan, Zsi Zsi – I can’t quite explain why they are the ones I called, maybe because they are the other “adults” like myself, going against the 14 year old full of angst.

Then, suddenly I notice a shadow of movement behind June…What was that. I try to focus harder. June is screaming even louder than she was already and stomping her feet, but it still did not deter me from focusing my gaze beyond her……….To see what she was standing in front of…What she was hiding…….Actually, WHOM she was hiding.

And trying to drown out….

I see a little 8 year old girl with slightly frizzy wavey brown hair in a pair of purple pants and a white t-shirt with flowers embroidered on it. She is standing there, head thrown back in anguish, as she screams the exact same words June is screaming trying to drown her out: “LET ME DIE LET ME DIE LET ME DIE THEY HURT ME LET ME DIE!”

I suddenly realize this issue isn’t soley a ‘June’ issue….She was trying to distract to protect the one really upset.  The one who keeps the secrets of the physical and emotional pains of every trauma suffered.

There before us stands Connie….