Feel the need to explain how everyday objects, sounds and smells can become triggers with DID or any kind of trauma survivors. This is something one of my alters named Elise wrote to try to explain to our therapist why panic attacks were coming every time we walked past the seafood section of HEB once they started carrying whole fish. It is better now, but I still usually look the other way.
As a precursor to this one, let me explain a little about the ceremony Elise is remembering. It is one of the animal sacrifices that I was made to participate in as a means of controling and silencing me. The cult members reserved the honor of killing for themselves, but often made us believe we had done it or at least helped. The shame that followed that was one way of making us keep our mouths shut, as you saw in my post "January 17th". You'll see Elise believed she killed the animal just by looking at it because she was that evil. The mind games are unbelievable here, but it was just foreshadowing. I know I would have gone through this particular night a thousand times over if I could have saved my daughter.
She also mentions fires and drawings on the ground. I won't go into much detail here, but this was all part of the ceremony.
As usual, beware: graphic and real. Graphic language in this one too.
Yes, I can explain it, but it won't help. I can see the head of a fish, the fucking eyes. The always gaping mouth. I remember.
It was almost always a fish they made me kill. After the fires were lit and the circle drawn, I had to watch the slimy creature flop and gasp for breath. I had to keep it with me in the center of the circle, touching it if it ventured too close to the edge of the sacred circle. I loathed to touch it, but had to be careful if I vomited afterwards to keep it out of the sacred spots. Violation of the sacred circle meant I had to start all over and be first next time.
I hated being first. It meant I was blacked out before the mid ceremony and lost track of SISTER and the others. I blacked out from pain, drugs and weakness. Mostly drugs and weakness. I could stand the pain.
Once the animal had stopped moving, they made me hold it eye level with me and stare into its face, weeping from having to touch the loathed being, I had to keep my eyes open and kill it with my evil gaze. It worked every time. If I dropped it, I would be forced to my knees in the dirt, one of them would hold my throat, bending my head down to his lap as he sat crossed legged in the circle. Though he was not yet naked, I knew what would come after the killing. The creature was placed across the back of my neck and I was forced to feel its last breaths and then its death. Strong hands and an erect penis in front of me, the animal I killed behind. No where to go, no where to even shift to lessen the horror.
After it was dead and I was raped, spent from oral and vaginal violation, I lay naked looking at the sky counting stars and seconds before the ultimate. The animal was brought above my head, its eyes ripped out in front of me. It always sees they said. It will watch you forever. We will watch you forever. What we do here is always eternal forever. Nothing lasts longer than us. You are ours always. The eye was inserted somewhere different always. My vagina, rectum, ear and once down my throat. I never knew if it was really the eye or just fingers, but the younger ones believed everything that was said. I had to stay conscious as long as possible, had to obey in everyway and keep my sacred place. If I failed, another would fill it.
That fucking eye mocks me today because I failed. It sees me living free as another takes my place tonight. That slightly open mouth in the seafood section taunts me. You lost. She hurts because you couldn't take it. She'll scream tonight while you're safe in bed. We still see. We are forever.
Elise
Monday, March 3, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Friday, February 8, 2008
February
February is fire and ice. It is frost on the ground by the time we were done and were heading home to pretend to sleep for a few hours before school. It is the burning cold of bare feet on frozen ground, bare back on frosted grass. It is the burn of the ceremonial fires. It is the heat of a man on top of me. It is the heat of unwanted breath on my neck. The burn of penetration.
February is when the contrasts get to be too much to take. Too many opposites functioning at once. It will drive you mad if you try to think on it too long.
Don't.
February is when the contrasts get to be too much to take. Too many opposites functioning at once. It will drive you mad if you try to think on it too long.
Don't.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
The Ceremony
This is the continuation of the story "January 17th". The cult I grew up in got me pregnant that first time in 1996 on purpose, to sacrifice my unborn child. Several weeks after the abortion had been preformed in a clinic, this ceremony was conducted at a local church, a church I had before and have since attended and sung in many times. Please be kind in regards to spelling and grammatical errors. This was written by Lisa, one of my alters who was born on the night of abortion, in one shot, and I have not edited it at all.
Please read with caution. The following is graphic and true.
It's dark.
And I'm waiting..
The baby is gone, sputtered from my womb like diarrhea. They gave me ten minutes to clean my self up, redress and get back outside. Ten minutes wasn't enough.
Six weeks later and I'm waiting in white, somewhere in the bowels of the church. Fuck, I hate it here at night. It's so spooky. I can feel the darkness of this closet pressing in against me. Where were they now? The few who had noticed the cuts on my arms? How sick I was every morning? I know they couldn't know; I didn't even miss one day of school; it was forbidden. But still, they had bugged me with insipid questions when I was trying hard not to throw up right on them, the morning sickness was so bad, and now when I was stuck, where were they? Safe, that's where. Tears came again.
NO NO NO!! There was NO way I was doing it that way; not tonight.
I rehearsed my part over and over in my head to keep the tears at bay. As the air in the closet became stale and still, I had to fight crying even harder as I knew it would use up my air more quickly. If they came for me and found me passed out this time, there'd be real Hell to pay.
BONG!
The church bell rang once. I jumped in the pitch black and hit my head on something. God knows what else was in this closet with me. I just hoped it wasn't someBODY else.
CLANG. Two. I held my breath.
Silence. It would be tonight.
The door flung open and a Red Sir stood there. Shit! RED?! This was really going to happen tonight. I needed no command or hand to lead me, not that he would have touched me anyway and defiled himself in his holy relics. I stepped out, my face uncovered for once and relished the fresher air, though relief was fleeting to say the least. I held the lillies in front of me, like a wedding bouquet. My hair was pulled back; my dress was white. Blood shows up better on the white. I followed the Red, and as I stepped out, a barrage of Blacks folded in behind me, moving, as they always did, as one, like liquid, like something gelatinous. I was puzzled at this; no brothers ever patrolled me; I was obedient; there was much more than freedom from physical pain riding on it. Red's sparkly symbols reflected even the dim lights and hurt my eyes.
We passed the giant organ, looming like a monster in the darkness, seeming to breathe, to be almost alive. I shuddered, remembering times behind and underneath it. Pleading with it silently. You have seen this, You know where we are going. DO something. But it loomed large and soulless. Another enemy. Of the more common kind. Not the kind that hurt me. The kind that sat and watched.
The organ was, however, a landmark and now I knew where we were. Down the staircase and past the bathrooms, pitch flooding from under the doors. I am sweating now, passing those rooms. Remembering having to wash my mouth in the urinal. What my breasts sound like slapping against the cold wall.
Just
Keep
Walking
As we near the sanctuary, I realize the need for the black escort behind me. It is full. Every seat. Every pew. Black hooded figures sit straight and still among the candlelight. I can't tell if they are people or trash bags. Either way, I give up then and there. It is all of them. This is it. If I don't die on that alter tonight...
As we near the glass double doors, the Red on the chancel raises his arms and the chanting begins. Loud. Unusually loud. And it grows as the doors are thrown open before me. By the time I somehow get myself to the chancel they are yelling.
Then it gets unbearably fast.
Hands everywhere. Must be the Blacks; the Reds cannot touch me tonight (thank God) for I am unclean. My underwear are yanked to my knees, the white veil torn off of my head; I hear it rip. My dress is lifted to my stomach and I am flat on my back.
Lifted
Onto
The Altar
The Holy Place
To die
It is silent. I hadn't known they would all be here. This is not our group; not our small cult.
It hits me.
She is the sacrifice for them all. For the sect; for the larger cult.
I close my eyes. Have on last tremor rip through my body and know that the drugs have completely worn off. As usual. Their timing is impeccable.
I am completely terrified and aware now. Sweat is everywhere. It runs down my legs and between my breasts, which still ache and feel stretched. Calm down! I tell them. There is no baby to feed anymore. Don't you get it?
But I don't. Not tonight. Tonight she is back. I can hear them hollering at me in the car through the drug haze.
“You are still pregnant, you whore. You only thought you killed her in the clinic. You will really give her to us tonight. In our church.”
I feel the blackness coming, but awaken just enough to hear the last words as one of them not yet hooded yanks my hair.
“And you'd better scream like it's real.”
The silence continues. Time crawls again, my worst enemy. I hold the lillies on my chest and breath shallowly. I keep my eyes closed, not pinched, but peaceful. As instructed.
There are words bellowed out by the Red. I jump again but quickly compose myself. I will pay for that small movement. I am supposed to be dead.
The words continue, but I can't hear. The ringing in my ears has started. Then it turns to fizzing. Blackness even blacker than closed eyes fills my sight and I know I must stay conscious. Passing out is not an option tonight. I breath as slowly and deeply as I can without giving away my liveliness. It works. The strong smell of the lillies fill my senses. All of them. The fizziness fades and I can hear him. The Priest Red. Whom I have come to realize is my grandfather.
“In her death, we shall live!” A yell from the crowd.
“We shall gather her life force to our sigma. We will carry it with us. We will have obeyed and will be rewarded.” Another cheer. Then silence.
I feel them moving around me. My heart races and I fight passing out again. He is beside me, at my head.
“Open your eyes.”
I see the hooded faces around me, but only on three sides. The audience has to see this time. No holy circle. Presentation is more important tonight.
He leans down and gets his lips as close as he can without touching my left ear.
“Give her.”
My whole body shudders.
“Give her.”
Another tremor, not caused by drugs, but my body's feeble attempt to fight back and hold onto something that had been taken six weeks before. My uterus clamps down and spasms, looking for her, trying to hold her in. It hadn't worked against the saline. And it wouldn't work tonight.
The spasms continue as the men surrounding me start their groaning. Some cannot even resist touching themselves, they are so aroused at what is going on.
They grow stronger and are soon thrusting my hips upward and then back down so that my bare backside slaps the hard wood of the altar. Sound finally escapes my lips as the internal cramps build and my back becomes sore.
He raises his hand. The groaning and self pleasuring cease, but my gyrating takes a moment to still and finally even a Black hand on my abdomen. I lay panting and swallowing hard, trying to stop moaning with the pain.
“Take her.”
That one wasn't for me. The privileged Black moves toward me, syringe in hand.
“No!” I cannot help it. I know it is only cow's blood to squirt into my vagina and make it look like the abortion had happened here in front of all of them, but the last time a needle was plunged into me, I delivered my firstborn. Dead. And in pieces.
He chuckles and inserts in into me. I feel the oily blood going in and know it is time.
“Now. Now! NOW!” He raises his arms to the heavens and screams. Laughs that unnatural laugh. The blood begins to trickle back out.
The small groan I meant to give to placate them grows into a scream. Then another that doesn't seem to end. It doesn't seem to need breath behind it. It just goes and goes. My father shows himself to me by speaking. He holds me in a sitting position and snarls in my right ear, “Push, bitch.”
I give up. One more raspy breath in from the screaming and I push. Feel the blood coming out, pooling around my thighs. The men dip their fingers in it and smear it on my chest, my face, in my mouth.
The buzzing in my ears is back and I can't fight it this time. I scream her name and black out.
Please read with caution. The following is graphic and true.
It's dark.
And I'm waiting..
The baby is gone, sputtered from my womb like diarrhea. They gave me ten minutes to clean my self up, redress and get back outside. Ten minutes wasn't enough.
Six weeks later and I'm waiting in white, somewhere in the bowels of the church. Fuck, I hate it here at night. It's so spooky. I can feel the darkness of this closet pressing in against me. Where were they now? The few who had noticed the cuts on my arms? How sick I was every morning? I know they couldn't know; I didn't even miss one day of school; it was forbidden. But still, they had bugged me with insipid questions when I was trying hard not to throw up right on them, the morning sickness was so bad, and now when I was stuck, where were they? Safe, that's where. Tears came again.
NO NO NO!! There was NO way I was doing it that way; not tonight.
I rehearsed my part over and over in my head to keep the tears at bay. As the air in the closet became stale and still, I had to fight crying even harder as I knew it would use up my air more quickly. If they came for me and found me passed out this time, there'd be real Hell to pay.
BONG!
The church bell rang once. I jumped in the pitch black and hit my head on something. God knows what else was in this closet with me. I just hoped it wasn't someBODY else.
CLANG. Two. I held my breath.
Silence. It would be tonight.
The door flung open and a Red Sir stood there. Shit! RED?! This was really going to happen tonight. I needed no command or hand to lead me, not that he would have touched me anyway and defiled himself in his holy relics. I stepped out, my face uncovered for once and relished the fresher air, though relief was fleeting to say the least. I held the lillies in front of me, like a wedding bouquet. My hair was pulled back; my dress was white. Blood shows up better on the white. I followed the Red, and as I stepped out, a barrage of Blacks folded in behind me, moving, as they always did, as one, like liquid, like something gelatinous. I was puzzled at this; no brothers ever patrolled me; I was obedient; there was much more than freedom from physical pain riding on it. Red's sparkly symbols reflected even the dim lights and hurt my eyes.
We passed the giant organ, looming like a monster in the darkness, seeming to breathe, to be almost alive. I shuddered, remembering times behind and underneath it. Pleading with it silently. You have seen this, You know where we are going. DO something. But it loomed large and soulless. Another enemy. Of the more common kind. Not the kind that hurt me. The kind that sat and watched.
The organ was, however, a landmark and now I knew where we were. Down the staircase and past the bathrooms, pitch flooding from under the doors. I am sweating now, passing those rooms. Remembering having to wash my mouth in the urinal. What my breasts sound like slapping against the cold wall.
Just
Keep
Walking
As we near the sanctuary, I realize the need for the black escort behind me. It is full. Every seat. Every pew. Black hooded figures sit straight and still among the candlelight. I can't tell if they are people or trash bags. Either way, I give up then and there. It is all of them. This is it. If I don't die on that alter tonight...
As we near the glass double doors, the Red on the chancel raises his arms and the chanting begins. Loud. Unusually loud. And it grows as the doors are thrown open before me. By the time I somehow get myself to the chancel they are yelling.
Then it gets unbearably fast.
Hands everywhere. Must be the Blacks; the Reds cannot touch me tonight (thank God) for I am unclean. My underwear are yanked to my knees, the white veil torn off of my head; I hear it rip. My dress is lifted to my stomach and I am flat on my back.
Lifted
Onto
The Altar
The Holy Place
To die
It is silent. I hadn't known they would all be here. This is not our group; not our small cult.
It hits me.
She is the sacrifice for them all. For the sect; for the larger cult.
I close my eyes. Have on last tremor rip through my body and know that the drugs have completely worn off. As usual. Their timing is impeccable.
I am completely terrified and aware now. Sweat is everywhere. It runs down my legs and between my breasts, which still ache and feel stretched. Calm down! I tell them. There is no baby to feed anymore. Don't you get it?
But I don't. Not tonight. Tonight she is back. I can hear them hollering at me in the car through the drug haze.
“You are still pregnant, you whore. You only thought you killed her in the clinic. You will really give her to us tonight. In our church.”
I feel the blackness coming, but awaken just enough to hear the last words as one of them not yet hooded yanks my hair.
“And you'd better scream like it's real.”
The silence continues. Time crawls again, my worst enemy. I hold the lillies on my chest and breath shallowly. I keep my eyes closed, not pinched, but peaceful. As instructed.
There are words bellowed out by the Red. I jump again but quickly compose myself. I will pay for that small movement. I am supposed to be dead.
The words continue, but I can't hear. The ringing in my ears has started. Then it turns to fizzing. Blackness even blacker than closed eyes fills my sight and I know I must stay conscious. Passing out is not an option tonight. I breath as slowly and deeply as I can without giving away my liveliness. It works. The strong smell of the lillies fill my senses. All of them. The fizziness fades and I can hear him. The Priest Red. Whom I have come to realize is my grandfather.
“In her death, we shall live!” A yell from the crowd.
“We shall gather her life force to our sigma. We will carry it with us. We will have obeyed and will be rewarded.” Another cheer. Then silence.
I feel them moving around me. My heart races and I fight passing out again. He is beside me, at my head.
“Open your eyes.”
I see the hooded faces around me, but only on three sides. The audience has to see this time. No holy circle. Presentation is more important tonight.
He leans down and gets his lips as close as he can without touching my left ear.
“Give her.”
My whole body shudders.
“Give her.”
Another tremor, not caused by drugs, but my body's feeble attempt to fight back and hold onto something that had been taken six weeks before. My uterus clamps down and spasms, looking for her, trying to hold her in. It hadn't worked against the saline. And it wouldn't work tonight.
The spasms continue as the men surrounding me start their groaning. Some cannot even resist touching themselves, they are so aroused at what is going on.
They grow stronger and are soon thrusting my hips upward and then back down so that my bare backside slaps the hard wood of the altar. Sound finally escapes my lips as the internal cramps build and my back becomes sore.
He raises his hand. The groaning and self pleasuring cease, but my gyrating takes a moment to still and finally even a Black hand on my abdomen. I lay panting and swallowing hard, trying to stop moaning with the pain.
“Take her.”
That one wasn't for me. The privileged Black moves toward me, syringe in hand.
“No!” I cannot help it. I know it is only cow's blood to squirt into my vagina and make it look like the abortion had happened here in front of all of them, but the last time a needle was plunged into me, I delivered my firstborn. Dead. And in pieces.
He chuckles and inserts in into me. I feel the oily blood going in and know it is time.
“Now. Now! NOW!” He raises his arms to the heavens and screams. Laughs that unnatural laugh. The blood begins to trickle back out.
The small groan I meant to give to placate them grows into a scream. Then another that doesn't seem to end. It doesn't seem to need breath behind it. It just goes and goes. My father shows himself to me by speaking. He holds me in a sitting position and snarls in my right ear, “Push, bitch.”
I give up. One more raspy breath in from the screaming and I push. Feel the blood coming out, pooling around my thighs. The men dip their fingers in it and smear it on my chest, my face, in my mouth.
The buzzing in my ears is back and I can't fight it this time. I scream her name and black out.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Bad week
gets worse. So I tried all afternoon to get a dr appt and finally found one that has an after hours clinic. They told me to show up at 5:30. I was waiting expectantly for this appt as I have been sick for 5 days now, and I am still coughing up junk, and my chest is on fire. Got to the clinic at 5:25. I was told I was at the wrong location. Ok, no big deal. Back out into the cold rainy weather I went to try to find the other office. Finally did, at 5:45, and find out the receptionist I talked to didn't save my appointment and they are booked. SIGH. So now I am out in the rain, got lost, (of course) and wound up on I45 at 6 pm headed the wrong way.
Fantastic.
Had to call Allen to Google my location and help me get home. He was in bed cuz now he has this grunge I have been battling.
He was able to get me home, so now we are both here hacking on each other. What a week. Now I will just have to see if I can make it into the office tomorrow, or try to get into another dr.
UGH.
Fantastic.
Had to call Allen to Google my location and help me get home. He was in bed cuz now he has this grunge I have been battling.
He was able to get me home, so now we are both here hacking on each other. What a week. Now I will just have to see if I can make it into the office tomorrow, or try to get into another dr.
UGH.
Sick and Tired
Of being sick and tired. Been sick since last Thursday and am still feeling like crap. Now I just get to wait for 5:30 when I can go see the dr. I am so tired of sitting at home and am really getting stir crazy and cranky. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!
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