Lousy Best Friend

I have been the worst best friend these past couple of months. I'm used to having a lot on my plate and I don't have a problem with always being busy, but I have ALWAYS had time for my best friend. If she called me and needed me to come or wanted to come to me, I would always find time. If she was having a bad day I would bring her a treat. If she accomplished something she had been working towards for so long I would make sure I was there to cheer her on. I would always make time for her.

Right now I've been so focused on my brother's wife (she has liver cancer) and their family, plus my new baby girl and my other 2 girls, plus my husband, plus one of my sister's who had to have surgery recently, plus therapy sessions. I simply can't find the time to be there for my best friend.

I missed her college graduation.
I missed her finishing student teaching.
I missed her getting her first "real" job.
I missed shopping with her for teacher and school supplies.
I missed her graduation party.
I missed her several calls to my phone. Her voicemails telling me of these accomplishments and wishes.
I missed the opportunity to be there for her so she could cry on my shoulder when she lost a very close friend.

I have missed so much these past few months and I'm afraid of growing apart from my best friend. I've known her for more than 12 years. How could I miss so much in such a short amount of time?

Bee, I am going to do better starting now. You deserve that!

New Therapist

I think we wish ourselves to be okay when we find ourselves not wanting to work through something particularly difficult.

Many things have happened since I last posted. The major one, of course, is having a new baby at home. She is so precious and adorable and it is so hard to let her sleep or be in someone else's arms without feeling like I've had a limb amputated.

I have also switched to a new therapist. She is much different from previous therapists that I have gone to but I feel like this new one is a much better match. Our first session was awkward. To be honest, I really didn't want to have a second session. I went home that night and told my husband that it would not work out and that I needed to keep searching. He asked me why and all I could come up with was "it was so awkward!" Being the man that he is, he told me I needed to give this therapist another shot.

Our second session was better but still awkward. It was seriously like a movie or tv show, where the therapist sits in the big, comfy looking chair and the client/patient is sitting on the far end of the couch, opposite from the therapist. The conversation consists of the therapist asking extremely thought-provoking questions while the patient sits there wide-eyed and panicky.

I don't know how I managed to go to the third session. There was still awkwardness hanging in the air but I was starting to warm up to her and my alters started to feel more comfortable about coming out. Over the past couple of weeks I have really started to realize and get to know my alters. Through much research and reading I have found that I am co-conscious with my alters, except for at night - I can lose time anywhere from 30 minutes to 6 or 8 or 10 hours at night. I'm still in the dark about most things though, regarding DID.

The fourth session was really the one where we just clicked. No more awkwardness, no more hiding, no more trying to pretend like I wanted to be there. I accomplish more in the sessions and during the time inbetween sessions that I already feel like an entirely new person. The change was much needed.

I better get back to my motherly duties! Hopefully I will be posting more regularly again.

10-10-10

I had my little girl yesterday, 10-10-10. We named her Lyndrea Amerae. She was 6lbs, 2 oz, 19 inches. And TONS of hair! My other two girls were completely bald for months. Words cannot express the love I have for this little girl...

I am horrible with keeping up with this blog...I have been so busy these past few months and I seem to never find the time. We're also in the process of moving again.

I'm really tired but I hope to get back on soon and post a "real" blog.

Take care.

Just Some Thoughts

Wow I just really suck right now at keeping up with my blog... So much is going on right now in my life that it's hard to find the time. I have three of my younger sisters staying with me right now and it has been crazy at my house! I've been able to see my therapist once since I last wrote and that seemed to help me out a lot.

I have set aside a time every morning after I send Kel off to school and take Tey to preschool/day care at my other sister's house, to lay down and relax. I breathe really deeply while listening to Chakra Suite. I fall into a sort of "trance" (for lack of a better word) and I find my alters and we talk. I usually do this about an hour to really hear what they need to tell me and to get to know them better. It has been a huge deal for us and it is really helping. My days are much better and I hardly lose time at all.

This in time, I fear, will not work any longer for us for whatever reason, but for now it's pretty amazing.

I'm Still Here

It has been a while since I've written. I was in the hospital for a few days... I had some complications with my pregnancy but things are fine now. Shortly after that, my sister in law fell ill so I flew up to help my brother (her husband) with their 9 kids. Now I am finally back in my own home, slowly trying to get back into my routine. But school is starting very soon so I have been rushing around trying to get my daughter Kel ready for first grade. She won't even be 5 years old on her first day!

Since I have been gone I haven't been able to meet with my therapist and it is really starting to get to me. I have had some memories pop up at random times throughout my days and some of them are very disturbing. I so badly wish that they aren't real but I know they are.

I am also starting to recognize and get used to the inside "chatter". I think they are starting to feel more comfortable about letting me know who they are. I often find myself trying to talk to them, but I feel ridiculous. I'm still trying to accept that they are actually there. I guess having a Schizophrenia label for so long really hinders progress in the DID area.

Strangers In Our House

I am happy to report that the mystery animal from two nights ago has moved!

My therapist suggested that my alters and I start a journal. I'm not sure how to go about this since I am still very new to all of this. I am more aware of them, I think. I can understand their conversations now - they seem to be closer, if that makes sense.

I'm finding random things around the house that either I have never noticed before or they were put there recently. New clothes that I don't remember buying. Food in the pantry that I have never bought. Dishes in the kitchen have been rearranged. The furniture in the living room was moved around as well. I'm finding more drawings in my daughters coloring basket that wasn't done by either of them. I'm also finding little bits of paper around the house that have been cut perfectly into triangles - neither of my kids can cut that well. I've talked to my husband about this and he knows nothing about it. We think it may be the alters coming out.

I don't know if I am okay with this. It is strange. I feel like a stranger is coming into our home and doing things in our house without our knowledge. Is it normal to be completely freaked out?

It's Early...

I couldn't sleep last night. There is an annoying animal right outside our window that was making awful noises ALL... NIGHT... LONG...

I wanted to kill it.

I'm not sure how I would have done it. I'm terrified of guns. I don't like the feeling of stabbing something, especially to kill it. I didn't want to beat it to death because that is terribly cruel. We don't have any poison, at least not to my knowledge. And I didn't want to have to walk all the way to the front door and then halfway around the house to our window at 1 o'clock in the morning.

So I laid in bed all night, clenching my fists and trying not to wake my husband who was sleeping quite peacefully, might I add.

Maybe I can squeeze in a nap today...

Apple and Mo

Apple, Pear and Plum are the alters my therapist first discovered and told me about. Plum is about 3 years old and she drew a picture for me during our session today.

My therapist says that Apple comes out at night and cooks huge meals and then stores them in Tupperware containers to be consumed later. First, I need to explain why my therapist thinks this...

When I first started living with my adopted family, my siblings told me I would sleepwalk. I had no idea what that meant and so I was really embarrassed about it but I couldn't do anything to stop it. One night I woke up in the middle of the night - I was standing in the kitchen with a knife in one hand and a whole spread of food on the counter. I was so shocked that I dropped the knife and ran to my room. I told Ash the next night to follow me if I went sleepwalking. When I woke up the next morning, she told me I cooked an entire meal while I was asleep. She told me I was humming and talking to myself like it was a favorite past time. It was the strangest thing I had ever heard.

12 years later and I am still doing it! Many of my college roommates thought I was crazy, and at first they thought I would burn the apartment or house down while cooking in the middle of the night - asleep no less. But after a while it became the norm and no one worried about it.

I told my therapist this funny thing about me about a week and a half ago and she says she figured it out. Apple is the one coming out at night to cook. I am a little disappointed about this though... It used to be really awesome to tell people that I can cook these fabulous meals while I'm sleeping, but cannot figure out for the life of me when I am awake. Now it seems that it is just an alter inside my head that is coming out to have some time to herself. Maybe I will be more thrilled about this later...

There is a fourth alter that has made himself known. His name is Mandarin-Orange but he goes by Manny-Orin. Plum calls him Mo. I do not like having a male alter inside me. It really freaks me out.

My Little Cinderella

Ever since Kel started crawling, she has loved to clean. She would put her hands straight up in the air when I would wash the dishes in the sink in our tiny apartment (we didn't have a dishwasher). I would pick her up and set her on the counter and then she would stick her hands in the bubbly water and rub them all over the dishes.

When we moved into a house with a dishwasher, it was her favorite new thing. As it was running, she would frequently check it to see if it was done. She would wear a towel like a cape until it would beep and then she would take out all of the stuff on the bottom and dry it off. Sometimes she would attempt to put things away, which didn't always turn out so swell!

My husband built her a stool just after she turned two so she could climb up and reach the sink (or the counter) to do dishes without "mommy's help". He also took our old mop and cut it down so she could use it without falling over.

She is constantly roaming the house with the duster and wiping down the walls with washcloths. My mother-in-law calls Kel her "little Cinderella".

This morning I woke up to her scrubbing Tey clean with baby wipes. I'm not sure how she got Tey to stay so still but now she has that clean, fresh baby wipe scent.

I just hope this obsession lasts into her teenage years.

Drawings On The Wall

My four year old (Kel) caught my one and a half year old (Tey) coloring on the wall yesterday afternoon. Normally I jump right in and ask them what they are doing and they bashfully give up their crayons, but the conversation was just too cute to interrupt.


Kel: Tey, mommy is not going to be very happy.

Tey: *holds up crayon* red!

Kel: No no no.

Tey: *looks at crayon* blue?

Kel: No it is red!

Tey: *confused look*

Kel: Give me that red.

Tey: *holds it tight against her chest* NO!

Kel: Ok fine.

Tey: *goes back to coloring*

Kel: If you're gonna draw on the wall then at least do it behind the couch!


Ahh I just love my little girls!

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 8

I started treatment, although I don't have much memory of it. I have tried several times to go back to that time and remember being in the hospital, but I just can't.


But something wasn't right with me. I had never had a period in my life. My father had sexually abused me so badly that several doctors had told me I would never be able to have kids. Some of them wanted to do a hysterectomy but they never did. But something wasn't right. I would wake up in the middle of the night to the feeling of "popping" in my stomach. I would put my hand on my belly and I could feel little "pops". I started to get really sick at random parts of the day. My hair started to get more curly and my mood would drastically change from one moment to the next.


The doctor's told me that it was just side effects from the medication.

Then one day, I heard a soft and faint hiccup. And then another. I put my hand on my stomach and felt a soft movement with the next hiccup.

My heart fell out of my chest.

I immediately called Bee. As soon as she answered I said, "I think I'm pregnant." I didn't know what to do. Bee came over and when Linda got home that night, I told her.

We went to the doctor the first thing in the morning. She did some tests and then we went in for the ultrasound. A tiny baby appeared on the monitor (I would later find out that I was 22 weeks along at this point).

No one could believe it. It was impossible. There were no physical signs of me being pregnant. They tried to figure out who had raped me around that time but I couldn't even narrow it down to one person. I was terrified. I couldn't even take care of myself - I could barely hold myself together. There was no way I was going to abort this baby but I didn't want it either.

I sat in a trance for days. I didn't know what to do. No one did.

Linda decided that I should talk to their bishop.

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 7

I started to see her. Everywhere.

The first time was in the middle of the night. I was lying in bed next to Lynne - she was asleep. I was watching the shadows bounce along the walls as late night drivers were passing by, their headlights shining through the window. I don't know if she just appeared or walked into the room, but I looked towards the closet door and there she was. I practically jumped up from where I was and ran to her. She told me she couldn't touch me but she was there to watch over me.

Two days later I saw her in the kitchen while I was listening to my aunt. She was standing in the corner, smiling at me. My heart ached. The pain of needing her with me was so great.

Sometimes she would follow me around the house and at night she would lie next to me in bed until I fell asleep.

I finally told my therapist that I was seeing Ash. He asked me to describe her, where I saw her, when I saw her, how often I saw her. It sounded like he truly believed me.

But about two months later, he diagnosed me with Schizophrenia.

I didn't understand. I wasn't crazy. She was really there! But he just wouldn't listen. I would need to be hospitalized, he said. I would need to start the medication immediately.

I didn't need this. I didn't want this. I wanted her. I wanted her.

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 6

The next day I was taken in to see a therapist. To this day I still do not know how I even talked myself into seeing a male therapist. Lynne went with me to every session for the first several months because I refused to be alone with him.

In that first session, he had me draw a picture for him. I wish I had it to post on here but he kept it. It's probably better that way anyway. I drew what the cellar looked like that Ash and I were locked in for 9 months, just before our father killed himself. I didn't tell him what it was though. He studied it for quite some time.

He quickly learned that it took a lot to get me to talk. In the fourth session, he brought out some Barbie dolls and had me show him what had happened to me. After telling Bee that my therapist had me do this, she freaked out. I guess most people are uncomfortable with doing this, but it was very comforting for me because I wouldn't be saying anything out loud.

First we made labels for each of the dolls. I carefully picked out each of my abusers and labeled them accordingly. For several sessions it was completely silent as I made the Barbie's act out the events of my childhood. It was almost like my hands had a mind of there own and I was just sitting back and watching it all unfold. (I now know that I had been co-conscious with one of my alter's.)

There were things I wasn't telling him, though. While I was staying at my aunt's house, her son-in-law had been coming over more often. Most of the time he came over when I was home alone and he would bring his friend. Even though I moved out of my parents house, I was still being sexually abused. I never told my therapist.

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 5

I had to leave. I was 18 years old so legally I could leave. I called my aunt who lived in Arizona and asked if I could come live with her. She said she would love to have me.

I couldn't tell anyone what Chris was doing to me every night. Instead, my siblings and some of my friends who knew he was coming over thought Chris and I were starting a relationship. I desperately wished to tell.

My cousin Lynne, her brother J, and their mom drove to my house and we loaded up my stuff into their van. Chris begged to come along. Linda, not knowing the situation, said he would be welcome to accompany us. We climbed into the back seat and he did things to me the entire drive there.

When we arrived at their house, I was very emotionally unstable. Lynne grabbed my arm and took me to her room. She told me she could tell something wasn't right and that I needed to tell her what was going on. I reluctantly told her what Chris had been doing to me for the past three weeks. As soon as the words let my lips, the door came crashing down.

Before I even realized what was happening, I was knocked to the ground. I heard Lynne screaming. Josh came running into the room and pulled Chris off of me. They called the police and he was taken into custody.

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 4

The funeral was held on Monday, February 14, 2005. I had gotten to the church early that morning with my sister L to just be there.

The service started and I didn't see Tyler (my boyfriend) or Laura (my best friend) there. I slipped out the side door and tried calling both of their cell phones, but they didn't answer. After a couple of more tries with no luck, I went back inside. As the service went on, I noticed that a few of my siblings were not there either.

I started to get a little worried. This wasn't like Laura or Tyler, and my siblings should have definitely been there. After the service was over, I went and found my aunt Linda. That's when I heard the news.

"There was a car accident..."

I didn't want to hear the words.

"Jake, Em, Haelee, and Blake rode over with Laura and Tyler."

They had to be okay. They must be okay.

"The other car veered over to their side..."

Just stop. Just stop.

"They don't think Laura is going to make it."

My head was spinning. The floor was spinning. The whole room started spinning.

Two hours later, Laura, Tyler, Blake, and Em had all passed away. Jake was in critical condition and Haelee was in surgery.

I literally thought my life was ending.

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 3

I finally let my boyfriend, Tyler, come in my room. He held me and let me cry.

My best friend Laura came over too. She brought me a big stuffed teddy bear. She held my hand while I cried into Tyler's chest.

They left around 2am and then Ash's boyfriend, Chris, came over.

(On a lighter note, Chris and Tyler were also identical twins)

**This may be triggering**

I thought he had come over to cry with me. To comfort each other. To be there for each other. But I was very wrong...

First, he led me down into the basement of my house and locked the door. He pushed me down and drug me to the other side of the room. He tore off my pajama's and got on top of me. Then he raped me. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

I couldn't even fight him because I was so weak from crying.

He left me down there, in the dark. I curled up into a ball and tried to cry, but I couldn't. It hurt too much.

He came back again the next night to repeat what he had already done...and more.

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It... - Part 2

I didn't want to believe it.

I cried and kicked and screamed.

I threw tools and cords and markers and parts of the hospital beds.

I tore down the curtains.

I broke several machines.

I punched my cousin until he was lying unconscious on the floor.

They took me to the psych ward.

I beat the crap out of the padded room they put me in.

I cried and cried until I finally fell asleep 28 hours later.

They let me go home.

I didn't want to talk to anybody or see anybody.

I didn't want to eat or sleep or drink.

I didn't want to breathe.

Ash had suffocated to death. Why should I be breathing?

To be continued...

I Couldn't Even Stop It...

We were up in Washington for a big family event. Most of my siblings, many of my cousins, quite a few uncles and aunts. We rented out the entire hotel. Ash and I were sharing a room.

Ash had a hole in her lung because of our biologial father stabbing her, so she had to do breathing treatments twice a day to make sure fluid stayed out of her lungs - once about an hour after she woke up and once during the night, around midnight.

After we had been there a couple of nights, Ash started to act a little abnormal. She kept telling people how much she appreciated them (quite a bit more than normal) and she kept hugging me and spent almost every waking moment with me.

We went to sleep that night as usual, and around midnight Ash's alarm went off to do her breathing treatment. I sat up and waited for her to be done and then laid back down and went to sleep.

Around one o'clock I heard these awful sounds coming from the other side of the room. But I was too tired to try to figure out what it was. About two o'clock and I woke up again, and again I could hear these awful sounds. Three o'clock came and the awful sounds were so loud that I couldn't take it anymore. I got out of bed and stumbled to the other side of the room.

I found Ash on the floor, completely black and blue and very swollen.

I screamed and ran out of the room, down the hall, to our aunt's room. I banged and kicked on the door, screaming as loud as I could. I was crying so hard that when she opened the door she couldn't understand a word I was saying.

I managed to get her back to my room. She called 911 and within 4 minutes they were there, loading her into the back of the vehicle. I rode with her to the hospital.

When we got there the doctors tried prying me away from her but they couldn't get me to calm down. My aunt begged them to let me go with Ash because she knew I wouldn't be okay without her.

They went into immediate surgery. Both of her lungs had collasped.

I held her hand the entire time.

Three hours later, she was hooked up to a life machine. All I can remember doing is lying next to her and sobbing "don't leave me, please. don't leave me."

No one else was allowed in the room because of her condition.

The doctors kept telling me that she just needed to get through this little bit and then she would be fine. But two hours later, she was slipping away.

They pronounced her dead at 11:03 am on February 10, 2005.

To be continued...

It Was Never Truly Over - Part 3

**This may be triggering so please proceed with caution**

The first time I saw my mother put my two year old sister in the kitchen oven, I passed out. I had only ever known my sister and I to be the ones to be abused in any situation. This single event made me wonder if there was any good in the world.

My second oldest brother, K-2, would trap me in a corner of the house, grab me, and then take me downstairs where he would duct tape me to a chair. Sometimes his friends would come over and join in with him. They called me crude names and took turns fondling me. Sometimes we would be down there for hours.

The church my new parents were members of taught beautiful things, I just couldn't ever believe them. They said parents were good and taught their children well. They were protectors from evil and were there to show you the good. They never hurt you and would listen to what you had to say. All of this was a load of crap, in my mind.

The only parents I had known had hurt me in more ways than anybody could ever imagine.

There was one boy my mother sold me to who did not force me to have sex with him. Instead, he held me and let me cry on his shoulder. He told me he would tell my mother we had done it so I wouldn't get into more trouble. I later found out that his father had forced him into this and he didn't want to hurt anybody. He was only my age.

It is all scattered and coming back to me in fragments. It is very hard to talk about and yet I feel this overwhelming need to tell because I can. I have that right now that I didn't have before.

Packing Up For The Weekend

My session with therapist this morning was very draining and I don't much feel like continuing my last post right now.

My husband wants to take our family up to the mountains this weekend. I must say that I am very relieved and excited for this trip. This also means no Internet so no use taking my laptop!

Is it normal to feel like you have no time in your sessions with your therapist? I feel like I get there and then I'm already leaving. Where does the time go? Before I just thought it was me "zoning out" and not wanting to be there but now I find it slightly annoying. Therapist tells me that my personalities are talking with her, which is good right? Sometimes I wonder if it is a load of crap as she sucks the money out of me each time. She's a great therapist though, so I don't think she would do that. I just want to know what is going on!

I better get to packing...we will be leaving in a few hours. I hope you all have a superb weekend!

It Was Never Truly Over - Part 2

**This may be triggering so please proceed with caution**

The first few weeks in this new home was very strange. There was always at least three other people with you at all times. There was constant noise. We had to learn ASL (American Sign Language) to communicate with our new sister who was deaf. We had to go through the testing process in the public system to see what grade we were to be placed in. Religion was thrown at us from the beginning and before we knew it we were baptized into a church we knew nothing about. Everything was very overwhelming and I was not coping well at all.

Ash seemed to fit right in with everyone. They all loved and adored her. I wasn't jealous of her because I didn't want to be the center of attention and I didn't trust anybody but her.

About a month after living with our new family, we learned of the cult our new mom was a part of. I am not sure what they did with the younger kids that were brought to them, but with the older kids they sold them for sex. I soon became the most requested girl among the cult and in the small town we lived in. For whatever reason, our new mom kept Ash from this evil. In our mom's eyes, Ash was the perfect one who should not be touched.

This is really difficult for me to write and I am leaving so much out because it is so difficult.

Sometimes at home, our mom would force one of our brothers to rape me. Mom would also tie us up in the basement for days without food or water and without clothes so we would get very cold and weak. Mom separated Ash and I so we did not share a room anymore. That was the first time I had ever contemplated suicide. There was no way I could survive without my sister.

We were placed in the 6th grade when school started in the fall. We were at a charter school in the neighboring town. That was where I met Bee. She came up to Ash and asked if we would like to play tetherball with her. Ash of course said yes right away. I hung back and did not want to talk to Bee. Ash talked me into coming and watching and I reluctantly agreed. Bee and Ash became best friends almost instantly, and Bee would constantly try to get me to talk to her or play with her but I couldn't. I didn't have enough in me to trust anybody else. Every night, Ash would sneak into my room after everyone else had gone to sleep and she would tell me how good of a friend Bee would be for me. That I should trust her.

About a year after we had first met Bee, I finally started responding to her when she would talk to me. By that time, Ash and Bee were best friends. I started to want another friendship like that.

In the middle of our 7th grade year, we had to move. We moved to a different state to another very small town. The abuse got much worse after that.

To be continued...

It Was Never Truly Over - Part 1

I feel like I have so much to say but I don't even know where to begin. There is so much I feel I need to share but there is so much background that needs to be covered first. My anxiety usually doesn't get the best of me but I believe it is winning at this moment.

Lothlorien posed a question under my last post: "When you were diagnosed as Schizophrenic, did anyone ever ask you if the voices you were hearing seemed to come from inside your own head or outside?" Answer: I honestly don't remember very much after my sister was murdered. I will eventually write what happened shortly afterward to me but I don't feel it is appropriate just yet. I had a very good therapist at the time. She was there for me 24/7 and gave me the support I needed. I do not blame her for misdiagnosing me, but as I learn more about the differences between Schizophrenia and DID I start to wonder how she would have made that error. Unless of course I have an alter who is Schizophrenic and they could have been more dominant at that time since I was not. Just going off all of the medication has been a huge blessing in my life.

Just to warn you all - I plan to talk about my twin sister Ashlee quite a bit on this blog. She was such a huge part of my life and it really helps me to talk about her. I also need to warn you that I have many siblings - twenty-four (24) to be exact. I have 29 nieces and nephews and over 150 first cousins. I just hope things aren't confusing on your end!

**This may be triggering so please proceed with caution**

I'm going to start out simple and work my way out. At least, that is my plan. My biological mom met my biological father when she was 12 (he was 19). My b. father raped my mom and she had my older brother J at the age of 13. My biological grandfather forced my mom to marry my father. At 17 my mom had my sister and I, and two years later my father murdered her in our backyard. They never found her body.

When my brother J was 9 years old, he managed to escape our father and he ran away. Since my sister and I were barely 5 years old at the time so we didn't remember much about him and after a few years we had forgotten about him entirely. From the time we were born until the time we were rescued just after our 11th birthday, we were sexually, physically, verbally, and emotionally abused every day and night by our father, his friends and members of his cult. Ash was the only friend I had.

When my father was found, the swat team had surrounded our house. He had a gun in his hand aimed at himself, he was holding a knife in the other. The cops were trying to get us to come to them. Ash ran at them, trying to pull me along side her. My father stabbed her three times in the chest and then shot himself. I will never forget that sound.

We were in the hospital for a month because we were so sick and beaten. My biological grandmother took us in for the first few months - it was the first time we had ever met a family member. We didn't even know we had any family members besides our father. Our grandmother's sister went through all the necessary steps to adopt both my sister and I and we became apart of a huge family.

Little did we know that the abuse was far from over...

To be continued...

I Feel Fake-ish...

In therapy this morning my therapist talked about how my alters (still getting used to this word) will start to make themselves known to me. She already knows of three distinct ones all of which are named after fruit: Apple, Pear, and Plum. I should have entitled my blog “The Fruit Basket”.

While I was diagnosed with Schizophrenia, I felt like I was trapped in this unknown world that encompassed my life. It didn’t always affect me but it was definitely always looming around close by. Now that I have a DID diagnosis, I kind of feel like I’m faking it. I’m not sure how one could fake DID 24/7 without someone catching them in a “normal” state. Nevertheless, I feel like I’m faking it all.

Maybe if I could just meet one of my alters - that word still sounds foreign to me; almost like it shouldn’t be a part of my vocabulary - it would help me to realize I’m not faking it or that my therapist isn’t feeding me a load of crap.

I know they are there, though, if that makes sense. I can feel a presence.

I’m going to spend the day with my one year old, Tey (Peyton). My four year old Kel (Brookelynne) is hanging with Grandma and some of her cousins.

Beginning

I'm not sure how to start out so here it goes. On June 26, 2010 my diagnosis of Schizophrenia of almost 5 years was changed to a diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) also known as Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD). My best friend Bee suggested that I start blogging about my new journey.

My twin sister Ash was murdered on February 10, 2005. I had a really hard time and still do have a hard time without her here. We were so incredibly close and we knew everything about each other. She was my best friend and growing up she was one of my only friends. A few days after she was murdered, I started to see her appearing to me, talking to me, comforting me. My aunt suggested I go to a counselor to talk about things, so I found one that I liked and started seeing him twice a week. About a month or two later, he diagnosed me as Schizophrenic. I basically thought my life was going to fall apart.

My biological father killed my biological mother when I was two years old. My father was in trouble with the government and he was constantly running from the FBI. From the time I was born until he killed himself when I was eleven, I had lived in all of the US states except for one, and about 7 - 8 different countries. My father was well known in the ritual abuse communities and he was famous for his experiments on twins. My sister and I were forced to be apart of many of these experiments - mostly involving severe physical and sexual abuse.

That is all I will post for now. I hope I find some comfort and answers by blogging about my life and by reading other survivor's blogs. It is comforting to know I am not alone, but it also brings me sorrow to know that other people had to go through similar horrors.