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…”

Oh.

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! 

*END HERE*

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.

Jess:–STOP IT DAMN IT! YOU ARE MAKING ME LOOK CRAZY!

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. 😉

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

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

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

This happened to me recently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am Dissociative Jess**

We are Jess** with some fine print.

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

I am learning who we are.

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

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

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

We are Jess** and WE ARE FREE.

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

I swear I hear her voice…

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

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

I feel I deserve it.

I hate myself.

I hate everyone who made me this way.

Including you, Jey, I know you started it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something makes us remember our daughter. The triggers begin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s why your “normal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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