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.

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...

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!

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.