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I woke up with a full-on migraine this morning, I switched enough that it has been reduced to just a sharp throbbing behind my right eye. I had dreams about Ben last night, him calling me and breaking up with me, but enough of my conscious was stirring that I stopped in the dream to wonder how he could divorce me a second time since I knew I was already divorced, but the pain and loss of the alter hearing his words of hate and detachment was overwhelming physically. During that dream I was trying not to get struck by lightning, running through a thunderstorm, trying to find a place I could get to that would be safe. 

I woke up with the migraine, managed to make pancakes for the kids, and did school work online. Yet, I had to write and get this out. I had to recognize that my internal system is all sorts of fucked up this morning because of last night’s writing. Writing it out has been part of my Cognitive Behavioral Therapy before. I did a 12-week program before I left Active-Duty with the only competent psychologist I’ve encountered. My 12 weeks sadly only lasted 10 as he got orders to England and had to leave. I haven’t seen a psychologist since. I have continued to use the CBT methods to try and keep things in order and have recently been working on an online veteran program that walks you through more CBT training. 

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I feel the need to share something here that is relevant to last night’s story of my life: I have had someone close to me die at least every three years since I was five years old up until I was 21 years old. I am now 28 and I’m always waiting for that other shoe to drop, waiting for something horrible to happen, for someone I care about to be gone. 

Age 5: Great Grandmother dies in her sleep

Age 8: Grandfather dies of throat cancer (soon after Dx)

Age 12: Father dies suddenly of Leukemia

Age 15: Grandmother dies of complications related to osteoporosis 

Age 18: Miscarriage #1 

Age 19: Miscarriage #2

Age 20: Miscarriage #3

Age 21: Class leader in tech training dies suddenly one morning before class

I don’t know what to do with this information. I don’t know how to even explain to people the depths of pain I have experienced outside of any of the abuse scenarios, how it feels to wish that my mother had died instead of my father, despite his intermittent rage because at least he could show affection and love. My father and mother were both victimized by their families, my father had an abusive alcoholic father, my mother an abusive and constantly critical mother (her father died of cancer when she was 12 also). Neither knew how to emotionally handle having kids, but mom retreated and neglected whereas dad tried to be there, but emotionally would snap from time to time from the strain of being the primary parent, working full-time, and having a immensely depressed and nagging wife who became as critical as her mother for everything he did. 

My brother was another story. Physical abuse came from him and dad when their moods switched…ADHD in both of them, I was the youngest and smallest and the easiest victim. Dad would use his belt or break yardsticks over us. My brother would just shove me to the ground and scream at me until I learned how to “go away” and not feel it any more. I remember when the first protector alter came out: My brother still talks about this event when we see each other. He doesn’t realize that most of me is still as vulnerable, is still scared of him and his moods, but he thinks I can defend myself when/if I want to. He, like many abusers, believe that the control of my emotions and reactions is ultimately up to me, no matter how much he pushes my buttons and emotionally or mentally badgers me. If I get emotional, I lose and its all my fault: Then he gets angry. 

But to get back to the first protector alter. My brother took great joy from chasing me and I would run because when he caught me I would get pinned down to the ground and told that he would always be faster and better than me, his weight crushing me into the floor. This day the parents weren’t home (not too unusual as we were left to our own devices alone in the house from ages 9 and 6 on during the summer when our parents were still working full-time but we were out of school). He was older and was “in charge” of me, giving him free reign to do whatever he wanted. I don’t know how old I was at the time, but was probably about seven or eight when the other alters started showing up (as I realize this in retrospect). 

He was chasing me down the hall of the house and I ran into my parents’ room. I scrambled onto the bed to at least have a softer place to end up pinned down. He jumped from the corner of the bed onto me, but apparently the protector was activated as I had just enough time to get my legs up as he did this to land my feet in his chest and use his momentum to throw him off the other side of the bed. He ended up slicing his back open on the corner of my dad’s bedside table. I, of course, was horrified by what had just happened as I rapidly switched back to “self” as soon as I saw he was injured and helped him get it cleaned up and bandaged. 

The same protector came out and sadistically would push Logan around on the playground too when he couldn’t get me alone, would get into fights with people, would end up protecting me when I needed it. She turned into Raina, the one who only wants to punish men and use sex as a weapon.

The Psychologist alter came out around the same time. I had used reading as an escape from a really young age (5), and story-telling from even further back (some of the best memories of my father was him in storytelling mode). By age 7 I had gone through all the kids and juvenile books I wanted to read in my local library and started systematically going through the adult non-fiction. I came across psychology and knowing I was different from everyone else, suddenly delved into researching everything I could regarding the topic. Nearby that section (thanks to Dewey) was the metaphysical studies, something else that I had always been interested in and sensed, but always told to not talk about by my Southern Baptist mother. The Psychologist took the reigns with all my psych studies and over time became a singularly developed and main alter in the system. The psychologist is twinned with The Student who has a broader base of interests. The Psychologist is also twinned with The Sociopath, although The Psychologist is detached for altruistic and professional reasons while The Sociopath is simply detached and doesn’t give a flying fuck about anyone else.

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Apparently writing is good as I’m learning new things about the system today that I haven’t been previously told. There are too many different authors of this post for me to state any specific ones, they don’t usually ID themselves except Raina. While some have given me names, many don’t want me to use those names on here since names have power. They want to be able to hide when they want to, to still pretend to be one cohesive self for everyone else. Calling them by their attributes or mentality makes them still feel anonymous enough that they aren’t threatened by me posting these things or letting them post.