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MtnTime2896
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Trig Jul 25, 2019 at 04:58 PM
  #1
This is part of my c-PTSD the main focus of therapy at the moment. I've decided I want to talk about it, just not to someone irl right now. This is also probably very triggering, so only read it safely. I've tried to mark everything especially triggering. I really don't know of anyone in my life who can relate to a certain aspect of the nightmare my mind's wrapped up in. Maybe someone here? If not that, maybe someone will still have some kind of perspective that helps. [We have dissociative identity disorder and two personalities wrote this post. One is in italics while the other is regular print.]

The original traumas instilled are from [unknown]-6. Then there was a small break from the sexual abuse aspect. I don't know why I bother putting ages on anything since I really don't remember a time until I was out of my dad's house that I wasn't being abused in some way (emotionally, physically etc.). A slap-in-the-face reminder of how bad things had been is the ever presence of other personalities, hallucinations (and other forms of psychosis), intrusive memories and flashbacks. More often than not, I've had emotional flashbacks but my full-blown episodes have sent me into a tail spin before, right into the hospital, in fact. Another slap is the diagnosis of DID and the fact that I'm not the host, nor the host's gender or have their name. This isn't the right forum for that discussion, though, but I digress. ​

So, in the very beginning things were loving and sweet. Things had been sort of reciprocated, as much as someone so small's experience/understanding could be capable of. I would stay up waiting for her to come to my bedroom and get me, hold her hand until we were in her room.
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I even would walk into her room again in the morning before she'd go to school
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and then she'd send me to go clean up in the bathroom. She'd go to school, life would go on normally. I remember her always telling me that she'd protect me and keep me safe, that she'd never allow me to be hurt and would hurt my brother when he'd hit me. It was awful and I hated seeing my brother hurt, I always felt so guilty and she'd tell me to come to her room after mom was done punishing her (often just a lecture, sometimes got physical). It started simple, it started with me believing she was a "hero" and, in some ways, motherly. I loved my mom, though, but my mom got angry quick so going to my sister just made more sense sometimes.


Gentleness didn't keep up, though. After an incident I was caught doing and got physically abused over, I no longer wanted anything to do with my privates.
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During this time, however, the abuse had quit due to my sister's disappearance (she ran away for a long time). I remember feeling less shy around people. All the same, I was still confused. I missed my sister and I missed her protecting me from getting hurt. When she left, the physical attacks from my older brother drastically increased, physical abuse from my mother got worse and my insomnia began to take hold. Lonely nights awake lead to missing her, which lead to missing those feelings, which lead to guilt and then I'd punch my leg until I'd cry. My sister did come back, though, and I hesitated when I first saw her. She was so skinny, her hair was different and the look in her eye had become more... I don't know the word for it, really, but it changed.


It didn't take too long for her to make a move, maybe about a week. Leading up to it, she wasn't being close to me at all, she was actually cold and distant. When she did it, mom and dad weren't home and had run to the store or something, and initially I actually remember running from her. It was different than before, she wasn't leading me by the hand softly, she'd approached me so sadistically in the hallway I just felt I had to run. I made it into my husky/malamute and lab/chow's pen outside and into their dog house where my husky kept me in the back behind her. She didn't get me then. That night, though, it got more painful and more twisted.

I fought her every time, I wasn't compliant and would try to stop it. That was my job. She found a way around that one real quick, though. For one, she knew there were multiple personalities (well she knew of a few, not all) and would specifically request them for different things she wanted to do. When she wanted to be more psychologically sadistic, it wasn't me who dealt with that. She never knew my name, never really knew when I was present until she'd get clocked in the face or something. I was the one who got the brutality aspect of it. I can take a certain threshold of pain, you know? ​

Anyway, knowing I'd inevitably show up and fight, she'd drug the body first. Looking back, I can only assume the most common substance we were given was probably a prescription painkiller after having taking them as an adult. I do remember, to a degree, a different substance.
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A hallucinogenic of some kind and that's all I know. Anyone who knows how subjective the mind is while on that stuff knows just how easy it'd be to convince someone of this and traumatize them with it, let alone a child of that age. Damn right we fell into the belief, made us split even more and there's so much I have no memory recall of. I don't want it. What I saw was enough. She only used that a few times, as far as I remember. There was another time, maybe two times, where she gave me heroine. No real memory after it was injected (that was around 6 years old). That was around the last time something happened for a while. That was also one of those times that another person was involved
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This is where I've been meaning to get to, actually, the part that really bothers me is the part where she legitimately used cult leaders methods (mostly Charles Manson) on me and probably her friends' younger siblings, too. I'd hear them talk about it over the phone or just together as they'd hurt me. It wasn't just chicks, it was guys too. There was a group of around 10 or 11 of them. They'd all follow the same rules, they'd all basically worship Manson along with implementing aspects of satin worshipping. Collectively, they were basically a small high school aged cult, now that I'm looking back. However, I was always my sister's,
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Through all of this, I became very convinced that this was just what I was meant to do. It wasn't until it had stopped for a while that I started believing what happened was wrong. The host, however, remained loyal to a fault to our sister until around 17. This loyalty was based on the, "she's everything to me" mindset/brainwashing. ​

As a teenager, when it happened, it would take place after I'd had a drink or a pill slipped into a drink. As much as I hated what was happening (why I was intentionally getting drunk beforehand), I couldn't say 'no' to her. I didn't know that was an option, she was still bigger since I was only 11 at the start of it, so I knew what fighting would lead to. She taught me well as a kid, I wasn't going to fight it.
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I hit 16 and I was done, I'd met someone (a teacher) who pretty much encouraged me to give a **** about myself (he didn't know what was going on), and I decided that I didn't want her to touch me so I wasn't going to allow it. At first, she acted hurt, as if I'd betrayed her. That was a night. It was just so... confusing? It had my mind whirling around with questions and self-blame.
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A stop was put to it when I'd won the fight another time, and not just won but dominated it. I think we've vented about this enough for now, though. I don't know why we did it. If you read this book of a post, thank you.

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Last edited by MtnTime2896; Jul 25, 2019 at 05:15 PM..
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