Internal Conversations, Visualization, meditation, revelation…Confusion.


Morrighan, standing in a corner, arms crossed, leaning on one shoulder against a wall, her hat down low and her head bowed so the brim of her flat cap covers most of her face, only her smirking mouth visible.

Morrighan says: Still fighting those demons, June? How’s that going for you?

Jey: Stop it, Morrighan.

Morrighan slowly lifts her head, narrows her eyes at Jey, but the smirk never fades. She stands up straight, arms uncross and drop to her sides relaxed, unimpressed by Jey’s assertion.

Morrighan: You got somethin to say to me, Jey? You can’t stand that I am better at this than you thought, can you? Oh, are you mad? Oh, you can’t control me?

Jey stands there, an almost emotionless blank expression, quiet and serene, as they studied Morrighan. Jey’s head slightly tilts to one side and their eyes look her up and down, but they say nothing. Jey was wearing a long dark cloak that made them seem almost formless, as it began to sway and swirl gently around them in a breeze that came from nowhere.

I was only meditating in this moment, doing some visualization to do some internal work on communication and integrating with the others. We have this house in this field by this forest, that we have built to reside in, created by visualization. Where, in this internal world, we can work some things out and communicate. Understand this isn’t hallucination. It’s more like a dream or a trance. I do understand the difference between reality and my visualization. It’s one of the things we learned about in therapy and talk about with therapist to help bridge the gaps between selves in dissociative identity disorder.

So, I arrived in our main hallway where the doors to everyone’s individual rooms are. I came here to start conversations, but this was already playing out as I arrived. So what’s this? Not only am I missing time in the external world, I’m missing out on things going on in my internal world too?

This is strange. I stood in the door way for this interaction between the three. I had no idea what was going on. Suddenly Morrighan’s head snaps around to make eye contact with me.

Morrighan to Me: How bout you? You think you’re going to stop me too? Not today. Jey knows, I know what they know. I’m going to figure out the key to it all.

I stand there, mouth gaping silent, and I’m just lost for words. Suddenly, June is screaming again. I turn my mind’s gaze to see her, clutching fistfuls of hair screaming in her room and what seems like a gust of wind blows slamming her bedroom door shut. Jey was standing by the door, their long cloak gently floating around in the breeze which seemed to only blow around them. Jey stood there stiffly, with their arm slightly outstretched toward the door. I couldn’t hear June screaming any more. Jey’s back was to the door, they make eye contact with me with that solemn serene face, blue painted lips neither smiling nor frowning, and they saying nothing.

I begin slowly backing away until I back out the front door, retreating from my meditation. With a head ache, a racing heart, and far from relaxed, my eyes open up to a more secure place of my living room. I’m going to leave these thoughts in my mind and just keep going on with my daily routine. I’m going to have to work on this later and hope I don’t lose too much time today. I can’t really remember what day I’m in now….

I have no idea what this means. It’s just the strangest thing. I don’t know how I feel about this. I’m so confused. Something doesn’t feel right. If you hadn’t figured it out yet…I’m the one they call “Apparently Normal Jess.” And I’m going to just keep being that, *appearing* normal. I’m not sure I believe this is the right way to go about my healing, talking to these other parts. I still don’t know how I’m supposed to believe these are “me.” Especially since I can’t understand them. Sometimes, I’m not sure if these exercises and tricks therapists have you do for them is a benefit or going to make me into some kinda fractured crazy mess…


Today at work: Integrate-disintegrate…A day as a glimpse of feeling unified. Can’t describe.

Today 7/27, at work went well. I was supposed to work the morning shift but a coworker asked us to trade shifts. Works better for my insomnia so I accepted. And it was a noble cause, as she was going to her grandma’s 75th birthday party.

Ever since the most recent struggles and outbursts we have actually been feeling emotionally better. It seems we exploded some much needed tension. Now, we feel better. Oh we still need to force healthier ways to do this. Starting with music as therapy (we bought another harmonica, tell you more about that in another post!) and we are regularly attending yoga classes to help with chronic pain, as well as a guided meditative class that helps us focus on forgetting ourselves and just being in the moment (it’s based in yoga practices and mindfulness.) So we hope that we can sustain this good feeling and not have it build to need to explode like that again. As an additional precaution, we are seeking to do boxing or kickboxing classes in the future, soon as some pain gets under control. That way, we will have an aggressive sport to help with tension, anger, and frustration.

Today was a hopeful sign of healing. Today I feel different than I’ve ever felt and I think it’s because the different approach I’ve taken. Which is, my decision to “come out” as a multiple. I have all the usual problems, but I have more support than ever in my life. A boyfriend, family, friends, AND a place of employment all educated about our Dissociative Identity Disorder and complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. All these people, this big circle of a safety net, allows us to learn to accept ourselves even with our faults because they do. I’ve been having a lot more days that I feel co-conscious with everyone and there have been like these moments of mini-fusion where we feel “all-together.” It’s just so hard to explain.

So, tonight was one of those nights I felt all together. Like we all were present. Like we all were calm. I started to freak out for a second because I wasn’t used to this. I thought it was just me numb, but I wasn’t numb. I thought it was me alone and blocked from the others…but they all were there. Quiet, listening intently. I handled stress OK and when I got upset I dealt with it…..Dare we say, “like a normal adult.” Ha-ha. It didn’t really occur to me until I got home later that I was just walking around like a functioning system. I was the one leading but I didn’t feel like just me…It’s the strangest feeling to describe.

It was deeper than just “co-consciousness” with the people in this brain. It was like coexistence. They are my parallels. They exist in a parallel world. We all flow together. I don’t know, I wish I had better words to describe this without sounding quite so “new age-y” hahaha.

For all intents and purposes, today we all were Jess*–minus the dissociative. There were moments of dissociation, but it was like controlled dissociation without the disorder. It was done in order to communicate internally while functioning externally. It is currently the best way to communicate as a “whole entity” in one body.

I was in executive control. We were Jess altogether. I made the decisions and steered the wheel but I did none of this without the others direction and input.

Tonight at work I felt the way I think I’m supposed to feel. I felt balanced. It was a busy night at work. I still have stressful things going on and big things I’m worrying over right now (such as a possible death once again, but my boyfriend’s family not mine). Yet I feel like I acted like an adult. I found myself addressing each issue without getting lost internally to fight it.

Tonight at work I started to imaging what Jess* could be.

(*and Company. Which ever of the Parallels of Jess and all of them)

Tonight at work I faced a lot of fears head on and just felt so….


No drama, no deep meaning. Just me–well, still US–at this job, being an adult, living a structured life.

Even at work, I felt I saw positive feedback for how we functioned today that reaffirms that we CAN do this integration some way, some how. I got frequent thank-you’s and many thumbs up for helping keep things together during the busy time.

I’ve had days like this before, where I felt like this before. It just had been a while. I felt like I had signs that they could see I was that Jess they had seen when I first started working there, before things got difficult to handle.

The most notable incident I can say though was when I first arrived.

I’m just at the host stand, staring out the window behind me. I’m just bored and zoning out. I’m not thinking about anything. I’m not hearing any chatter. I’m not agitated or feeling trapped at work not wanting to be there, wanting to feel safe at home. I felt none of the usual problems of over-thinking and being triggered. I was just like everyone else, just working, no real complaints.

Yea, I still rememembered all the bad stuff that’s happened and going on but I was still just accepting of it, moving forward. Yea, I still had bad stuff happen to me in my past but it was now no longer in the fore front of my mind. It was unnecessary to think about so….*poof*….it got filed away…Not stuffed away, mind you. It was filed, meaning processed paper work before deciding where to put it.

We were adult Jess. We were a system, but now a system with some cheats and short cuts that helps us run more efficiently than we normally had.

Nobody was really talking to me or or paying me any attention. Normally that would cause all kinds of internal paranoia and self hate, as we would twist the busy co-workers into meaning “avoiding on purpose.” Yet none of that train of thinking happened.

Then I was startled away from people watching out the window when a co-worker says hello from the other side of the host stand that I had my back turned to.

I jumped but I don’t think she noticed but I giggled a little at myself as I always do after I get scared for no reason. Ha ha.

Our coworker Stacy says “hey Jess! Wow, Haven’t seen you in awhile…” and then with a bit of friendly humor and a smile she says, “You been hiding from us?”

I smile and say, “Hey Staci! Yeah it has been a while… Ha yea..That’s what I do…..I hide.”

I was looking down pondering the irony of what she said momentarily lost in thought. I remember she was still standing there and look up to have us just kind of smile and nod at each other. Then she walks off to do her job duities.

After she walks off, it occurs to me that I may not have been the only one pondering the deeper meaning in the words she said.

I wonder if she REALLY knew it was really me? Or am I just reading too much into things again? Ha…It’s just I can’t help but wonder if she really meant havent seen *me* as in actually ME, all-together-Jess, in a while?

Staci is sometimes working as the shift manager on duty but tonight she was just working as bartender, with a different shift manager. Since she is one of our managers, we had had a talk with her about the fact that we are 18 different people (so far, anyway). So now I just can’t help but wonder….Does she actually take us seriously unlike so many others when we disclosed our many selves?

Did we find another person who is smart enough to pay attention and who actually can see us as a multi, respectfully?

Maybe…Maybe not….Ha, PROBABLY not. Well… It’s a nice thought to have though, so I’m running with it! I’m not saying its truth but the feeling it gives me is a feeling of hope.

Today, I truly felt like me, but not JUST me, like all of us. Then I felt like others knew it was me as all of us. It was weird. But it didn’t last forever. Sadly, at the end of the night, as it gets close to bed time, we feel ourselves breaking apart again. Hurting, suffering, detached, dissociating again.

It’s not that we are weak, or giving up, or in any way choosing to do this. It’s exhaustion. People don’t realize the constant brain power and actual engery it takes to keep yourself together when you are a multi-people, ha….

I can only hope with practice and therapy, (and with more and more peer encouragement) we can keep healing and become stronger and do it longer. We all decided we were going to all live life, not take turns living jagged pieces of it. We are learning how to live and “be human.” The next step is just mastering it and just living.

We have dreams. We will never go away but we can be united. We can learn how. We can have our dreams…

Life, drama-free. College education, career, settled down in a house we own and have a reunited family stronger than ever. A daughter proud of her Multi-Mom. A success story is what I dream to be and it’s all just for the sake of my daughter’s love and be a good example. (maybe also to seek out a little redemption too)

Aunt’s Death, Outburst w/ Boyfriend….Overwhelmed at work. All same week and we break.

After my aunt had passed, we had a big blow up with our boyfriend, and then to top it off, I had a dissociative moment and blew up on this girl who was quitting because I felt she took kindness for granted for my friend who got her a job there….But the day she quit she or someone she had “anonymously” sent in a copy of the message I sent her….Which my work then preceded to write us up for.

This was all in the course of a week. My work knows about my DID, knew about my aunts death, my managers read the message and LITERALLY said to us “This doesn’t sound like the kind Jess I know” And I say, that’s because it wasn’t. But they don’t get it. So I gave up on trying to explain, it wasn’t Jess, it was June. June, my young 14 year old counterpart, who holds many memories of abuse and all of my anger. June, who’s intellect seems to be higher than mine but she doesn’t have the emotional maturity to handle the intelligence she has. It leads her to “knowing too much” and she breaks down. She also is our self-hate and self-harming. June is a little fireball I have a hell of a time controlling. You can’t reason with her. She always has something to throw back.

This almost broke me. I was ready to quit. The message June sent, I’ll admit, was cruel and vulgar and some of the worst things any one could say…..Things I’d never as an adult woman say, no matter how angry. She also told lies, just because it would feed into the paranoia of the girl she was trying to hurt. She never actually talks the way she did in this message, so I know each word was carefully thought out and “said in a language she could understand” because that’s how June feels about “wanna be ganster” people. So she says anyway. I did not approve of what June said, but I knew she did it because when we feel helpless to protect ourselves or our friends, we lash out with the only weapon we have: our words. And June, well…She is quite good at this. She’s shocked so many with the things I couldn’t even fathom if I tried. It’s so different from me…Had I not been suffering already from my aunts death, I would have had more energy to stay grounded and fight the dissociation that allowed for June to block me out to do this. Too much had happened. I wasn’t strong enough.

I knew what June had said was out of line, however, I didn’t feel my work had a right to give me a written warning for it. I knew that June was not a bully, like they were trying to claim. I signed the paper acknowledging that I was talked to about this, but I looked my manager right in the eyes and said I won’t apologize for standing up for my friends. I knew that I had to earn June’s trust by standing by her when I knew the reasons why she did what she did wasn’t what it looked like.

Fourth of July, Family death, memories and dissociation…*sigh* some things shouldn’t happen but dissociation really has a way of taking away your control and ability to have all the information needed to look at a situation objectively.

This has been a sad Independence Day… This July makes 2 years since I’ve seen my daughter. She was 11, she turned 13 without me. I really miss seeing fireworks with her. I knew I’d be declining many cookout invites for the holiday. Sorry, I cannot handle seeing you and your happy family with fireworks while I do not have mine.

My Aunt Emmy also passed away the week before and her funeral was on July 3rd. All the past week I’ve not slept but 3 to 5 hours a night. This death triggered me. Lots of strange reasons why. I hadn’t been under this kind of stress and grief in a long time, I had forgotten how it can cause a serious episode of dissociation, even as far as a fugue or amnesia. I should have been doing more self care all week. I should have been prepared for a catastrophe, that I knew would happen because of statistically happening in my past.

I was not prepared.

And now, a detrimental mistake is realized…..

I was triggered.

But first I was exhausted. No strength to fight it.

When you suffer severe and prolonged abuse in childhood, you never learn how to deal with even simple stressors. You never are allowed a safe environment that you can learn to cope with stress in. Which is what normal childhoods are allotted. Establishing that strong foundation of practice with coping with minor stress in childhood, so they can grow up into adults who can handle serious difficult situations. You need to establish a belief that you have a safe place to run back to before you can feel brave enough to go out and face the with world.

So now, as an adult with Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, you have to parent yourself and create your own safe space to face trauma in. I had been doing really well with that. I had been building myself a safe place and ridding myself of unsafe people. As well as working hard changing my unsafe habits and behaviors.

I don’t have these coping skills down pat yet though, is the thing.

Still need practice. I believe I will get better.

It’s just…….

One thing gets me every time. I know this gets me every time. Yet there is nothing I can do to prevent it – insomnia. I know if I don’t get any sleep that I will surely have a break down in the end. I know my worst issues I’ve ever had were a result of the brain not having rested. People confusing my D.I.D. with other things because I seemed so out of it, from insomnia. Which, any “sane person” can be made crazy from torturous sleep deprivation. It made them try to act like my brain alone was the cause of my actions and only pills would fix it. But i learned in due time that pills don’t fix me. If they helped, it was the sleep comas they gave me that helped my brain rest. In the end though, I needed to not numb myself anymore with pills, needing to learn to cope with trauma and not bury it. A lot of processes are going on in my brain at once, and to keep things organized and under control takes a LOT of energy. Without rest, I’m a swirling ball of chaos. Yet with pills that make me sleep, I’m never full awake and able to process information. Working part time, insomnia rarely affects my actual schedule in life because usually I can just nap later with no interference. Sometimes though I have to cover extra hours at work if we have no help. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with appointments I have to be at and everything just adds up.

This lack of sleep compiled with the stress of living with c-PTSD and D.I.D. causes episodes that make me look pretty bad. But throw in a tragic life situation or life transition and the severity of dissociation shoots through the roof.

Such thing just happened this 4th of July. My aunt’s death (family deaths don’t happen everyday), and not having sleep because of the grief. On top of usual sleep issues.

By the time the funeral was over and we hit the fourth of July, I thought I was going to be okay. Seeing family at the recession after was both positive and negative effect on me. The desire to shout out my story and parts wanting to be seen and known but we couldn’t.  Had to keep it in, keep it together……It was hard. But the comfort I had in being reminded that my family hadn’t changed the way they treated me lovingly had really been helpful. Not knowing what I was, the many “me’s” I am, they naturally respond to any switching because I believe they are used to it my whole life. They know it, without “knowing” it. I’ve had family repeatedly say they know their niece/grandchild/child, when I try to insist there is something they don’t exactly *know* about me.

They don’t know its a switch but they can easily balance with whoever I am and see them all as the child born into the family they love…..We all are us and we all are one and still able to be all of us individuallly.

My family was able to see all of us without knowing it was us. This i feel is a unique situation with DID.

Maybe when I went back home, I had grief of leaving behind family comfort I thought I lost again. Since my grandma died, we had not done any big family holiday gathering. I missed them. I missed coming together. And although this was a sad reason, i got to relive a piece of my life that I thought I lost. I thought my family was separated, grown apart and selfish. I thought no one thought about me or remembered me. I learned otherwise, as we all gathered at my aunt Tina’s like we used to for any gathering in the past. It was just as it always was. My family, though physically separated by miles, had not changed. They were still there, and they didn’t act like I wasn’t supposed to be there. I had been afraid to see them.

I’m not exactly sure of the cause of my distress the day after the funeral, on the fourth. I thought I had a moment of healing after seeing family again coming together like the “good ol’ days.” But something was obviously hidden that I was unaware of. It’s strange. I was just remarking to my boyfriend that I feel like we are getting really close to integration of consciousness. I told him, it’s hard to explain but i’m having trouble recognizing if i’m “me.” I know this probably doesn’t make sense. But on the fourth, it was like I lost that control I had been building. The sadness of my aunt dying who is younger than my Dad and leaving her 3 daughters behind, who are younger than me, was so saddening. It then made me think about what if I died too soon and what if my daughter never got to see me again before this happens? Now here is an unnecessary thought to have, yet there we go thinking about it….But I shut it down quickly. I guess I didn’t lock it up tightly.

My boyfriend had the day off and we were supposed to have a great day. We went to bed early for once. I was exhausted from all the lack of sleep all week after my aunts death. Now it felt that, after the funeral was over, I could rest again. I had suffered a bit of extra stress at a recession after the funeral, interacting with family. I didn’t know what they knew about my life. I didn’t know if I would be trapped in an awkward situation trying to answer questions like “don’t you have a daughter? where is she?” and also have to deal with their disappointed faces.

Nothing like that happened. In fact, no one mentioned it all. I did get an opportunity to talk alone with one uncle about my situation though and it did make me feel a little better. Felt a little healing. At the same time, it must  have just ripped open a secret portal of emotions I had stuffed down.

I was in control. I survived the whole exhausting week without losing it, though I could feel myself a little shaky. I just needed a good nights rest a few days and then I’d be recharged. I’d survived the triggers and getting closer to healing post traumatic stress symptoms.

But….i was denied the good night’s sleep. My boyfriend woke me early to ask me a question of where something was. It was next to the bed on my night stand but i dropped it and my glasses when tried to hand it to him. He bent down between the space of the bed and the wall and was reaching way under the bed. He was jiggling and shaking the bed. I tried to ask him to move, because i always knock off things and I know exactly where they fall but he reused to move because he was already there. Honestly he was doing something nice for me, and couldn’t have known that his jiggling of the bed for a minute straight was going to interrupt my healing cycle.

I was awake. I got up and tried to do things that would relax me and then tried to lay back down. Couldn’t sleep. I felt the anxiety in my chest, and my blood pumping through my veins and the adrenaline was pumping with it. I was so irritated with being alive. I was ready to lash out. I tried to lay out on a lawn chair on the patio and get some sun. It helped a bit. Then my boyfriend takes me out to lunch. It went well.

Then we stop to get my car gas and him some cigarettes on our way to the next destination to try to cheer me up, and that’s where things lost control.

I handed him a 20 that he was supposed to just use to cover his cigarettes and the rest on gas so that he didn’t have to do two separate transactions (he only has a credit card he uses). But he misunderstood and gave the whole 20 for gas. Which was too much. I wanted to go inside to get the change, because I do this a lot with this new small car I have, not used to the smaller tank yet.

He told me I couldn’t do it. He told me, he threw away the receipt and they won’t give me my money. I knew that wasn’t true because I do this all the time, without a receipt. Because you JUST prepaid them, and they can see on a screen the amount prepaid hasn’t been used. Then they just refund you that remainder. It’s really not too hard. So I think the first issue I had was being told I couldn’t do what I KNEW I could do.

But surely as my luck goes, the cashier was confused because a woman came in and not a man. She appeared as if she didn’t even know how do her job. She was just staring at me, talking slowly. I was annoyed. I told her I understood if she didn’t know how to do this so I can wait for her to get help. But she was refusing to acknowledge that and kept asking me who I was and what car I was talking about. She asked me to have my boyfriend come inside. So I waved for him to come inside. What I didn’t know is he was already annoyed with the fact that I went in there and then as I was angrily waving him to come in, I was being really unfair to him.

To make this story short, basically even after saying she needed to see him, she acted like she didn’t know what to do still. I couldn’t handle it. The problem was now I look like the bad guy. My boyfriend is right by default, that I couldn’t get the money back. It SHOULD have EASILY been refunded. He is not right. But he insists he knew it would happen and I am now the bad person for not listening to him.

What I noticed about a certain alter, June, is she is a protector by pushing people away. Also, protects me by being the one to deal with anger so I don’t have to feel bad about it. I hate anger, I instinctively relate anger to abuse because I grew up in a household where I saw family get angry and turn physical. One of my brother’s was always physically violent toward me for any little thing I made him angry about and my parents made it seem like that was not a big deal. I was terrified of being like the rest of my family, terrified anger would make me violent so I stuffed it down. So, June feels it, and she feels the wrath of all my whole life’s anger, to the extreme. There is no medium for her, it’s zero to 100 in .05 seconds for her, no matter the issue she uses the same force of 100% anger.

So, not being able to deal with a simple annoyance should have been as simple as just giving up and walking away. I tried to not go inside in the first place, but we had this switch happen and I lost control. I was co-conscious still. I could see and hear what was happening but i couldn’t take control of the body. I tried to reason and yell at June to stop right now and lets just go. I couldn’t be heard. She was lost in anger. She was struggling with our embarrassment and being wrong when she should have been right.

June just shoves my boyfriend toward this woman, yelling “Ugh! YOU deal with it!” after frustrated from trying to explain the situation several times and it was going no where with the cashier June was mad because my boyfriend didn’t listen and made this happen in the first place so she felt he should have to talk to her and she was thinking he would be more apt to explain to her that he paid her the 20 dollars for gas but it was more than he was supposed to. Yet he comes out angry and screams at me, pointing in my face, “Don’t you ever put your hands on me!”

OK, let’s get one thing straight. INTENT matters a lot when you are delving out punishments. No one was not hitting him in anger. No one was hitting him at all. June thought he was on my side not knowing he was already angry at me because she felt it was his mistake that got us there, and felt confident to push him toward the cashier like the 14 year old girl she is, thinking, “See NOW you’re going to get it ’cause my boyfriend’s mad now too….” Because my boyfriend was supposed to be just as angry at the cashier not her. By June’s irrational view. Yet, his anger was at me. Yes, my hands were “put on him” in the way you push someone toward the direction you need them to go or look. It was not a violent assault, but if you want to you can say, yes “i put my hands on somebody.” I was hurt more by this insinuation that I was a dangerous violent person, as if I punched or slapped him out of anger with intent to do physical harm.  When I really was just pushing him in front of me as my wall of protection. My intent was to hide behind him as a wall of protection, not to hurt him. And then I stormed out… which is good that I didn’t start shouting at anyone in the store.

Of course, no intent excused the fact that even shoving to get past someone is a disrespectful act and I knew things like this upset him. I knew that if he felt someone angrily touched him, it is a trigger of his. No reason excused the fact that I was mad and i did technically touch him with my hands in a shoving manner.  He couldn’t differentiate that it wasn’t in anger toward him, which is understandable. So I am truly accountable for my actions. I just simply want to get the record straight: I am not violent. I made a bad annoying judgement call. June was making the judgement calls when I could not find the energy to break her walls and control the situation.

Now the next thing June did was more extreme than anything she’s done in the past. As we had stormed out to the car, he followed a few moments later. Sitting there quietly alone I was almost calming myself back into control. Then I saw him walking out and it went down hill from there. He was cussing at me before getting to the car. He got in my car and  screamed in my face for pushing him, saying “Don’t you EVER put your fucking hands on me!” and I told him if he is just going to scream at me like that and not talk, then he can walk home. As soon as he got out of the car, one of the others feels guilt and fear for him. “He’s just triggered too! He needs help! Help him! It’s too far to walk home! It’s too hot! No, no don’t leave him!” So this rouses June once more to go to the next level, as if she wasn’t punishing us all enough.

She’s still angry and now has to force him back into the car because me, Jess, asking him to get out upset the little ones. So she tries to block him off with the car, then was going to get out of the car to talk to him. But my car is really tiny (i own a smart car) and doesn’t make a good barricade. He immediately is able to swiftly walk around it. After several attempts to block him to stop long enough for her to get out, she gives up and I am starting to get control of the wheel again. I drive next to him and tell him we don’t have keys to get inside, because we didn’t grab them since he had his. Asked him to ride in silence with us the rest of the way home and we’ll talk about this when we get there.

He gets in the car… He is silent….but not for long. You know how it is, when you are all pent up with fear and anger. He just started exploding on me again. When his voice raises in anger to accuse me of trying to “run him over” with my car, I choose to do self care and tell him to once again, get out, because he was making us both feel worse. But immediately after I say it, and he is getting out, someone gains control to try to grab him and beg him not to get out. But he is too fast and too strong for us to hold on to. I think it was one of the young ones reaching for him. This rapid switching under distress is such a head spin.

Then June responds to the young one’s sorrow with more anger. This crazy rapid switching is making me nauseated by now but I’m still struggling to gain control. Right now, I am the one who is “just the voice in my head.” I can see and hear things but not have control of the body. I’m trying to, and trying to relax June. So, June is now slowly driving next to him in the center turn lane to scream at him about, “how can you do this to me when my aunt just died, you know i just can’t handle stress when my aunt just died, you know i wasn’t trying to hit you with the car! don’t this to me right now when my aunt just died”

All I’m thinking is I have got to get her to stop before police get called about me driving down the center lane and screaming at the top of my lungs. With one last push I got control. I drove ahead to a parking lot. Waiting for him to reach it and asked him nicely to please just get in the car and please just us all be silent so we can get home. He did it this time. But barely waited for the car to stop moving when he jumped out of it and stormed inside.

This is where my memory is getting a bit more fuzzy. I don’t know exactly what happened but I know it went bad. I know June and my boyfriend were screaming at each other. I know I have never in 4 years seen my quiet calm boyfriend act so angry. I know I was trying to break up with him or kill myself. I know someone had me leaving to go to the hospital before we did hurt ourselves. I know another part stopped that momentarily because they had to pay rent and bills before we left. It was the 4th and my aunt’s death had me forget to pay rent. I know I left. I know i was talking to a friend who helped talk me down and I know I came back home where we talked about this exteme issue that should never have happened over a few dollars we could have walked away from.

I’m still trying to make sense of why she got so angry and why she was taking it out on my boyfriend so bad. Why would t she listen to me and just let the day be a great day like it was starting to be?

I dont have all the answers But so the moral of the story is JESSICA HAS GOT TO GET MORE SLEEP.

Or she turns into a monster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You float….Alone.

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

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

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

I float….Alone.

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

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

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

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

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

How do I deal with seeing family at this funeral?

How likely is it that my abuser will be there?

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

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

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

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

So dissociation increases to numb this suffering.

I want my life back.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


And wow. That really has changed my day.

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

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

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


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

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

“…Me and Jason had sex.”

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes, I’m not “Jess” at all.

Yet, I’m not really all that different from any of you.

Except with memory and perception.

Welcome to Dissociative Identity Disorder.

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

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

As well as the third host, using the full name “Jessica,” also “Apparently Normal Jess” (aka “Amnesia Jess”) who has limited and difficult access to trauma knowledge. She goes back and forth between being in denial of DID and wanting to accept DID. She can’t really connect easily with other identities and wants to be the “only one” as she wants other identities to “go away”) She is host for short bursts to fill in when you have to live in the now but the past is trying to resurface. She literally is a “blank slate” and every time she surfaces her knowledge of her situation changes. Not sure if this is the same “Jessica” or perhaps I have many “smaller parts” of “Jessica’s” that I don’t have counted or maybe these are new parts that keep being made. Still working on figuring this out. 

Are you following along?

We all respond to any version of Jess/Jessy/Jessica as our name because we are the hosts who speak with the body most often and are most accustomed to the “Jess” identity. 

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

The names of all the other alters besides 3 “Jess” hosts:

The *Adults* 


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


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


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


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

Erzsebet (aka Erzsi or Zsi Zsi)

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

The *Teens*


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


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

Bill (aka Bel)

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

The *Little Ones / Small Children* (age sliders, change but still young)


(twin, age indeterminable, child demeanor)


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


( age 4)


(age 8)

*Nonhuman* alters that helped with surviving trauma

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

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


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


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






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

You may see information lacking on some identities.

That is because it is difficult or straining to connect with them, they may be blocking or hiding themselves, or they have not had much interaction with other identities or outside people. Hopefully we can fill more in some day. That’s the idea…]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Awesome knows awesome. See the awesome in yourselves!

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(we sit in a booth)

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

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

-I have a dissosiative disorder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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