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My Story

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curllinediv
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I hadn't really planned on writing my story here at first but now I think that it is important to let you know where I'm coming from. My memories of childhood are filled with grief and despair, as every waking moment I was plagued with fear, nausea and vomiting. I have no memories of happy times and now I understand why.
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As a child; not a day went by without pains in my head and confusion disrupting every train of thought in my mind, and my body began to crumble from the stress that my mind was under due to the mental, emotional, physical and spiritual abuse delivered to me by my mother, who was obviously depressed (at the least) and totally out of control.
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Almost every time I became aware of my surroundings; my clothes had been changed and I was in a different place than before. I honestly believed that my loved ones were trying to drive me insane by telling me things that I had said or done when I knew that I hadn't, and with so many alter personalities living within my mind, it was very difficult to separate conversations, thoughts, and actual events from my own reality because of the turmoil inside of my mind.
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Our house was consumed with violent outbursts from my brothers and sisters and then my mothers voice would whale out to be heard over theirs. The fighting that erupted between them was frightening and sometimes even ended in blood shed, sending one or the other to the emergency room. But as for me; I spent my life hiding in my closet or under my bed. Not until I began therapy did I know that I was hiding from my very own mother.
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I had always known that there was something "not quite right" with me and my mind but there was no way of telling anyone what I was living with because there were just no words to describe the way that I felt.
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I had friends but none that really wanted to spend any time with me because I was always so sick. We would be in the middle of playing ball outside and I would be stricken with severe pains in my head or I would have to run home and vomit. I mean what kids would want to play with such a strange kid like me.
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But when I had my "mental breakdown" in 1995, life as I knew it then, quickly faded as I started experiencing visions of people in my head and dizziness, nausea, amnesia and severe confusion. This was so much worst than what I had ever experienced in the past.
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Now I know that my alters were being triggered by situations in my adult life and they began to take over in such dramatic ways that I lost all control "literally".
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I could not believe how my world was becoming much worst than ever before as I began to experience moments of feeling like a mute; an infant who did not know how to read and was only learning then how to walk. I actually began to fall down on a daily basis as if I did not know how to walk yet.
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I found out in therapy that the reason that the turmoil in my mind had magnified so much was because my alters were being triggered so much by adult situations and they were starting to "come out" of hiding and react as if they were trying to protect me again.
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I was diagnosed with D.I.D. when I finally was able to get to a doctor. Like most other survivors who suffer with D.I.D. I was shocked, ashamed and embarrassed but at the same time I finally had a name for what "it was". However I was scared to tell anyone about the voices because I did not know what would happen to me.
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My fear was that I would be put into a mental institution and my son taken away from me. The mere thought of never seeing him or my husband again only added to the drama that I had now found myself in, and it was escalated by the thought of the isolation that I would have lived with and it was beyond frightening, so I had to keep this secret deep inside for a whole week before I could get to a doctor.
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My marriage was starting to fall apart, and the way that I was acting only made my husband believe that I was not being faithful to him. I stayed up late in the mornings because I could not sleep and I began to vomit again like I had done years ago. My body was crumbling and my thoughts were so scrambled that I could not even begin to tell my husband what I was going through.
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I have been told that I ran and hid every time my mother entered a room that I was in, and that I was very afraid of her because she looked so scary when she was angry. I spent most every waking moment asking Jesus to let me die; to free me from this life of a tormented mind and pain but I felt abandoned by even him at times because of the confusion that I continued to live with.
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I'm sure all of this may sound extreme to you, because who could spend a lifetime focused on death as much as I confess to. Even when I see it in writing, it seems so absurd and unbelievable. How I do wish that this was all made up in my mind and it was all just make believe but as I talk to people that knew me in my childhood, they have all told me how much my mother hated me and that they observed the fear inside of me when I was around her.
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My relationship with Jesus grew stronger as he was my only link to the sanity that I fought to cling onto. Jesus never did really abandon me as I believed he had. You see he did deliver me from all of the turmoil. And even though my life still seemed so confusing and severely painful, he blessed my soul with his love and courage. And these gifts were the things that kept me from losing my mind completely.
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The beauty of my story is that I was greatly influenced by Christians who God so graciously placed in my life. My wonderful dad and his whole family played a huge role in this. My fondest memory is of family reunions when before we sat down to eat we stood in a circle with clasped hands while prayer was delivered for thanks of a wonderful gathering and the food was blessed for all to enjoy.
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Not only around the family, but also in the church where my dad and I sat while Gods love was echoed throughout the Sanctuary by the goodness and purity of each member there; I felt that the filth inside of me was being cleansed for that one hour that we sat in the pew and let Jesus spread his love within. My alters inside even stayed quiet and hidden as we sat in church to let this peace consume me. And as I walked through life, strangers with glowing smiles and kind words for a little girl who was so distraught and so in need of Gods presence had fulfilled my need for spiritual nourishing every time I came so close to losing my mind altogether.
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I could feel his invitation of love and hope through these Christians and my desire to be embraced by his loving spirit became stronger every day. But my adult hood has been just as puzzling and awkward as was my youth, and my memory still is so very vague. But I have finally reached a spiritual wholeness that of course is not yet perfected but gets stronger each day.
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The nausea and vomiting are only history now and even though my physical pains remain and even worsen with time I thank God for my husband, son, therapist, doctors and friends who have delivered me from a life filled with confusion and loneliness with God's gentle guidance.
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By the grace of God, each of my alter personalities have laid down their resentment and anger and have embraced the wonderful knowledge that God does truly love each one of us. And I realize that he was with me every moment in childhood and blessed me every terrifying moment.
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As we have begun to integrate into one, our strength in faith has multiplied and now our peace and comfort is overflowing as we embrace the joys of our life and have come to understand that the abuse that we endured as a child was not a fault of our own but that no matter who that child would have been, the mentally disturbed care-giver would have still been out of control.
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Of course I do have some memories of adulthood but basically my youth has vanished, good and bad memories alike. As an adult, I can recall sitting around on Christmas Eve while brothers and sisters would laugh about things that had happened when they were young.
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I have always been more than satisfied to sit and listen and even laugh with them to hear their stories told over and over again, but I could never participate in these recollections of years gone by because I simply do not have any memories to share.
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I have plenty of pictures in my head of horrid deeds that were done to me by my mother, but I have yet to "remember" or at least accept any such events as actually happening in reality. My past is long gone but never missed, because one cannot miss what one does not have. And besides, my life as it was and is has made me stronger and I know that I can face sorrows and heartache in the future now; not to say that it won't bother me and make me sad or depressed and scared but now fifteen years later when therapy began, I know that I can face life as a happy, healthy woman who has healed from a childhood of trauma.
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I do not blame God or even my mother for a past filled with so much pain, but I thank God for delivering my soul from the darkness that otherwise would have swallowed me whole and I would have been lost forever. But this website is not about me, for I have conquered my past through Christ and have become a survivor in place of victim.
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We must remember those young souls, who are trapped in their own fight for survival right now, for my body and mind was not the first to be victimized and sadly it will not be the last.
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By: Candy Little




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