Read This First

We have moved to a different blog: We Choose Harmony

To see why, read this post: From Internal to External.

But feel free to read this blog for background information.

In October of 2010 Erin was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder. This blog is to record what is going inside Erin's mind. We don't know what all that will entail... But we are hoping that keeping a record of it will help in some manner. We also hope that maybe, just maybe, that we'll heal from whatever issues that we have and come out victorious.

All personalities or identities within Erin are invited to write here; each entry will be marked with who is writing.

If you are a survivor yourself, there are no trigger warnings on the entries... Please be careful as you navigate this blog. If you are a significant other of someone with DID/MPD, our hope is that this blog may be of some use to you, but please remember that every person with DID is very unique and must be considered as their own case.

Thank you for visiting!

Sunday, August 7, 2011

A face I thought I'd never see again.... -- Yomi

Morrigan has been reflecting on what we call "the Life Before." This would be the life that Erin (the original), Morrigan (as Horsie), and I (as Kitty) had before Marie (as Marine) was hidden inside and I was forced to live outside. The age of the body would have been between 0-11 years old. Horsie was a small, gray horse comparable to a life-size My Little Pony. And I, as Kitty, was a gray tabby cat the size of a Maine Coon. Refer to "When the world becomes upside down..."

Anyway, she's been reflecting on events that happened back then and it's pulling up memories for me too. I keep remembering things about the man at the playground. I don't remember how many times he came and hurt Erin and Little Erin, but I remember that, at some point, Horsie and I stopped fighting. We realized that we couldn't touch him. If Erin or Little Erin decided to go to the playground and he showed up... There was absolutely nothing we could do...

I remember looking across the man and Little Erin at Horsie; her face was so defeated and hopeless. I remember doing the only thing I knew I could do while the man was there... I licked Little Erin's face, trying to clean her tears, trying to give what small comfort I had to offer... I was trying to say, "I'm sorry, little one. I'm sorry we can't do anything, but at least I am here for you; I will not leave your side."

And now I feel such inexpressible sorrow... There is no blame attached to it... but it is deep and it is a piercing ache in a place that feels deeper than my heart. I don't know what that means exactly, but maybe it is my very soul that mourns for two little girls who were used in absolutely horrible ways. I have a distinct feeling that I will have to relive each memory... I wish I did not. I wish I could bury it in the far reaches of our mind forever. But I know that if I did that, my family and I would not heal the way we should. I will never be able to sit with Erin and Little Erin and Morrigan and cry together about a shared horror.

Back in January and February, Little Erin was so insistent that it was highly important that I remember what happened in our Life Before. She shared with me her memory in hopes that I might remember my own role in the story and be able to sit with her in understanding. Like the thick-headed person I am, I thought this was a memory of me being used by this man. Yes, the point of view made it look that way, but it was Little Erin's memory, why would it be from a different point of view? After a while, I shoved this memory away from me as much as I could and it pained me to talk to Little Erin. Oh, how I wish I could take back some of what I said and did then.

I think I understand Little Erin's insistence now. She needed someone to sit and cry with her, but no one understood her tears. I do now. I know what happened back then. I know my part of the story. And, miracle of miracles, I don't blame myself for not being able to stop it. The memory of what happened is still so very painful, but at least for now, for today, I understand that it wasn't my fault that I couldn't stop it.

-- Yomi

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