The host fronting and therapy

So, the host fronted today. She rarely does. But it was nice, cause I realize she does whenever I’m honest to myself about my abuse. It’s like she knows the truth.

It was also the first time I felt like we’re in this together, like we are a system. She said that we should all stick together and try to survive. And if we die, at least we know what the truth is.

 


 

I switched while I was thinking about therapy. I started a month ago, and the therapist is nice and validating for the most part, but I still feel like she doesn’t get the depth of my trauma. Which sucks.

I figured I should just give myself the validation I need (I know what I’ve been though. That’s when the host fronted). At the end of the day, I don’t know if any neurotypical would be able to understand. It still sucks though, I wish I had someone to talk.

She’s really nice, but I’m disappointed.

The therapist Kati Morton says that in order to process trauma, we need to talk about it in detail. That’s what I want to do, but I feel like my therapists just wants me to move on. But I can’t move on until I can get all of that off my chest.

What I need is to feel understood. Paul from the Mental Illness Happy Hour podcasts says that the best thing is for someone else to witness you pain. I crave that so much, that’s all I want.

I’ve been through so much, and I have so much pain inside of me. All I want is to have people who love me, and support me, and believe me. Who can see my real me.

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My facets

This is embarrassing but I had to get it off my chest.

Host: M, girl, real age. Straight.
Doesn’t really front, ever. Don’t know much about her. The facets probably showed up when she was young to protect her, so she’s not really aware of the trauma, although she might hold some memories from when I was really young. Can’t front since my life is too overwhelming for any human being. Also, I’m afraid she would be too confrontational with my abusers. Really connected to the body (the few times she’s fronted).

Protector: L. gender less, no age although it feels like they’re a bit younger than the Host. Bisexual.
The one that has been fronting for years. Lots of dissociation, has really bad memory,  has a “just survive and keep going” modus operandi. Although they’ve been fronting for years, I hate feeling genderless. It feels more like a robot, instead of a person.
Probably showed up to protect the host when she was little. Totally disconnected from the body.

Another facet: A, masculine, around the age of the protector. Bisexual.
Don’t know much about him, never fronts. Gender dysphoria issues when he’s around. Doesn’t really hold any memories. Feels okay about my abusers, since he doesn’t see the abuse.

Little facet. Girl. Around 5 maybe? But with the body of an adult. Non-verbal.
Been around for a while, but I wasn’t sure if she was really a facet or just a part of my personality, until she co-fronted one day when I got triggered. Dormant pretty much all of the time.

 

I hate having facets cause I would love to feel like a normal girl my age, but I don’t think the host could live my life.

My story

Trigger warning: child sex abuse, incest, abuse.

 

I was born two decades ago. My whole life I suffered from emotional abuse from my family, and was sexually abused by one? of them when I was possibly a toddler. They also brainwashed me with a sort of “religion” that they created.

I had no support, from anyone.

I first wanted to kill myself at 13, and during my teenage years that was all I could think about. Some of my symptoms where extreme maladaptive daydreaming, hallucinations, and being completely disconnected from my identity (years later I discovered it was OSDD-1).

I hit rock bottom right after finishing high school. I was delusional, convinced that the world was going to end (by my religious family member), and ready to die.

I had been so hurt by my abusers, to the point that I could not longer pretend that didn’t happen, but I didn’t know how to feel anger. I had never been allowed to feel it, so I had no idea how to express it.

With time, I was able to do it. I was feeling angry for the first time in my life. I was venting, and complaining, and validating my emotions (not in front of my abusers, obviously). That’s when I decided I wanted to live, but I would do it for me, not because I had to” or because that’s what my abusers wanted.

So that’s when I started recovering. And when I say “recovering”, I mean doing that completely on my own. My abusers had convinced me that therapy/psychology/just the world in general was bullshit, so I didn’t seek out professional help. But I started reading about mental health, journaling, analyzing my thoughts, etc.

It actually worked. I started recovering. Of course, it wasn’t a simple process. The period where I started college was also extremely hard, I had to drop out eventually, and my abusers where as cruel as always. But with time, my mind got a little better.

It actually got so much better, to the point where I didn’t hate myself or the world anymore. But I still was depressed. “What’s the problem, then?” I thought. That’s when I realized: it was my family. That’s what pushed me to be mentally ill in the first place. That’s what’s keeping me from being happy today.

I had a really hard time remembering my past, so I started reading my diaries from when I was younger. I started to remember, and puzzling everything together.

That was a year ago. Being able to see the fact that you’ve been abused is not something easy, every abuse survivor knows that. Specially when you’ve been as brainwashed as I was. I was going back and forth, seeing the abuse, and then denying it completely and wanting to kill myself for being so “stupid and crazy”.

With time, the doubts went away and I began to fully accept it. It was very painful, and I felt completely alone (which I was, and still am). But I guess I got over it pretty quickly. At the end of the day, I’ve never really had a relationship with my “family”, so seeing them as strangers wasn’t hard.

It was also a good thing, in a sad way: for the first time, my life made sense. For the first time, I could understand why I wanted to die, why I saw myself and the world the way I did.

But it wasn’t over. I had a period where I would get triggered very time I masturbated. It wasn’t the first time, but it had never been that often. A couple of weeks went by, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Why was that happening?

I started wondering if something could have happened. If I had been abused not only emotionally, but also in other ways.

Memories came up, flashbacks came up, and I realized I’ve had symptoms of sex all my life. Things still aren’t clear, but I know something happened. For now, that’s enough. Digging into it provokes a HUGE fear in me, like I’ve never felt before in my life. I don’t have the support or resources to process it right now.

Which brings me to the other thing. During this time, I tried getting professional help. It was a disaster. All three therapists that saw me couldn’t understand why I was struggling (I am NOT joking). They would treat me like I was stupid, and just being dramatic, and refused to acknowledge as true anything I would bring up. Things as basic as my mom being absolutely insane, or me having panic attacks.

When I brought up the fact that I thought I might have been sexually abused because I was having flashbacks, one of them told me “Don’t you think that if you had been raped you would remember?”

She said that. She fucking said that.

Any professional in this planet should know that is not only possible, but absolutely common for people to remember their abuse years after it’s happened. But she fucking said that.

That was the last time I tried getting professional help.

And I just kept going. On my own, trying to recover, trying to accept what happened. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m trying.

Now, the focus of my life is on my work. Even though I still struggle a lot, I have to make money since I’m already in my twenties. Of course, my abusers refuse to acknowledge anything they’ve ever done, or even the fact that I’m mentally ill. Hell, they see me as an abuser, because I’m a “spoiled monster” who “uses them”. The truth is that I can barely function. But I’m trying, since I have no other choice, or I’ll probably end up in the street or dead.

Even when I feel a little bit better, my ADHD makes my life hard. Getting treatment for it is super hard where I live, so yay. Not only my family failed me, but also the whole fucking health system.

That’s where I’m at right now. Trying to work, trying to reach out to people. And telling my story. That way, if I die, at least the world will know that it was my abusers’ fault.

 


 

Writing this was so draining I don’t have the energy to proofread it, I apologize for the mistakes I’m sure it has.

If I’m not triggered, is it really a new year?

So, I’ve seen abuser B these last two weeks. I won’t be seeing them for a couple of months. Seeing them was okay, by now I know how to handle things to keep them content. I did get triggered before, during and after seeing them, as usual, but I guess this time wasn’t as bad since I was aware of it.

I’ve felt so much these last couple of days I don’t even know what to write. Is really depressing being reminded how shattered your relationship with your family is. How I virtually have no one in my life.

It dawned on me how much one of them doesn’t love me or care about me. And the other one does love me, but they’re incapable to do it in a healthy way. It’s really sad.

While I was thinking about this, I hid in the bathroom. I was looking in the mirror (a rare thing)  while I was crying, and I had one of those (once again) rare moments where I’m able to see that I’m a young girl. That the person that endured all the abuse was a young girl.

Although, not really, because of my OSDD-1. Another facet has been fronting for many years, so I don’t feel young or like a girl, and that was how I survived. A kid would have not survived what I did.

 

I’ve been thinking about my inner child lately, or actually, it’s been manifesting itself. Coincidentally I watched a video about it yesterday, about how people who grow up without loving parents should re-parent their inner child. I know that I should do that. I have a heartbroken little kid inside of me. It’s sounds like a really hard work though, I don’t know if I could do it. I know that I should, cause otherwise I will feel dependent on the comfort of other people (like I already do).

 

I’ve also got triggered about sex abuse while I was with them, as usual. Disgusting thoughts and dreams popping up in my head. I tried not to think about it though. I still don’t want to think about it, I’ve got too much on my plate.

 

I don’t know. That’s some of what I’ve been feeling these last couple of days, after seeing abuser B. Now I’m trying to get back to work, but it’s hard.

My life is horrible. Happy new year.

Being a child

I don’t know if I’m gonna make sense, my mind is all over the place and my head hurts, and I’m regressing.

I don’t wanna feel this way but I can’t help it. It really is coming out like never before. I hope this doesn’t happen often. I was thinking that maybe I had a facet from my OSDD-1 that was a little one, but I wasn’t sure. It’s a head space that I can access when I’m feeling overwhelmed, but it’s always a conscience decision and it never feel like it was a full-formed facet. However, today it came out stronger than ever.

I have to go through a medical procedure tomorrow and I’m nervous. I was sad and overwhelmed, so I went to my head space. I do that often, but this time I connected it to things from my childhood. Specially with sadness.

I used to feel an immense sadness when I was a child. I don’t know how to explain it. And I also know that there was nothing there to comfort me.

I wanna explain more but it’s hard. And I want to let the little one speak but she’s not talking. I usually go non-verbal when I regress.

I went through so much as a little girl. I feel like part of her is gonna be trapped inside of me forever. It’s so sad. I just feel sadness.

I wish I had someone that could hold me, but I know that if I did I would probably cry for years.

I wonder if my little one holds any memories.

Who’s gonna fix all these broken peaces of me?

Now more than ever I can feel how I’m split into multiple facets. I’m clearly a system.

I hope all my parts can make it through. At least now I’m less lonely. The little one will probably go dormant again after this, and I’ll go back to the facet that usually fronts (which is not me). I feel better now though, with her here.