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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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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".
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.