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.

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.

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...

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.