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@beYOUtywithin Hi! I've never been officially diagnosed with DID, but for a year or so now, I've been the host of a median system that is very talkative. They each have distinct personalities, mindsets, speech patterns, and actions, and they're distinct personalities. It may be due to emotional trauma, but we've learned to work together, and we're pretty good company for each other. It's been hard to explain to other people that the voices are okay, and it's kinda hard to work through things like school when one or more of the alters are fronting, but we're okay with it! We'd love to meet others like us

The story of us…

****TRIGGER WARNING**** * Especially if you are also a survivor of Satanic Ritual Abuse*.

Terms terms/wording are my own, and is written to express the experiences/feeling of my parts. This could be potentially triggering for people having gone through something similar. Ive tried my best to tell my story without being too detailed but still it might trigger you. Proceed with caution and remember to take care of yourself if triggered.

I was born to parents who where involved in a cult. It seemed to be a mish mash of beliefs but ultimately no matter what label you put on the theology, it was evil. I know I was given over to the cult as a young child, I believe I was about 18 months old. Up until the age of 8 years old I was subjected to mind control programming via rituals, torture, fear and sexual abuse. There were other families with children who were involved in the cult and encouraged child-to-child sexual abuse also.

I was born with some physical issues that made it painful to walk and be in my body as a whole. My father was violent and would often beat me, which only added to my physical issues. I spent most of my time teaching my brother how to hide to avoid getting beaten and recovering from my injuries. In addition my mum told me that I was allergic to food and if I ate it, it could kill me. I was only allowed to eat 2 things and drink water, if I was given food at all. Most of the time it was cold, breakfast, lunch and dinner (if I was lucky). I was sent to a drugs trial for these ‘allergies that is not recorded on my medical records, but I vividly remember the doctor and the treatments and they way I got so sick after each one. Most likely a doctor who was part of the cult my parents belonged to - still working out that part. After each treatment my mum would lock me up for days and even weeks, not even allowed to go to school. She made me afraid of allergens/germs that might be in the air or anything that I touched.

At school I tried my best to look normal, but I wasnt and it was obvious and so I was bullied. I walked funny because of my legs/feet so I practiced and taught myself to walk straight. When I went back to the doctor they told me I wouldnt need a stint to correct my walk. My mum seemed furious, I wonder if she liked the attention from it all. Mum went into overdrive with all the allergy stuff after that. Unfortunately my mum was so obsessive about my ‘allergies that the teachers even bullied me. I think they got fed up with all of her demands and took it out on me.

My mum fled the cult when I was 8 years old, she was afraid and split with my father. She never told us that she was leaving because of the cult, she said it was my fault that dad hurt me and so she had to leave. She quickly moved in another man, who made us move away from our town. I didnt like the new guy but I was hoping that it would be a new start.

Even though the mind control programming had ‘stopped my mum was also programmed and therefore kept up programmed behaviours and neglect. She became an alcoholic and the ‘allergy stuff got worse and worse to the point that I was barely surviving. If it wasnt for visits to my Dads house I think I might not have made it through my early teens. After every visit to my dads Id have to hide under baggy clothes and conceal food for the week in my bag so my brother and I could eat. If I looked as if I put on weight I was stripped and beaten by my mother and starved until I was ‘thin enough.

My dad passed when I was 15, it was sudden and I felt like the one person I had to help me a bit was gone. After my dad no longer lived with my mum his temper disappeared and we had a few nice times, even though I was mostly still afraid of him (my dad and I reconciled before he died). Shortly after another father like figure died and my mums alcoholism got worse. I was treated like a slave by my mum and step dad and spent my teens in my wardrobe hiding from all the chaos outside. I think it was at 15 that I first became suicidal and self harmed. My mum finding out I self harmed was probably one of the most painful memories for my teen part. She hit me and ridiculed my body.

I ran for the bus one day and almost fainted, my bones where sticking out of my body, I was 18 and my eyes had started to get blurry, I knew my body was starving. I knew I had to get out but I felt so guilty for leaving my brother behind. University was the only option, my mum had stopped me from working so a student loan was the only way to get money to move out. I absolutely hated uni, I ended up in a violent relationship with a guy whos uncle was a drug dealer. He had an arrangement that his uncle would supply him with drugs if he groomed me to be sold to a gang and for videos of him abusing me. It took me 3 years to get free of him, I was homeless, his uncle hunted me with dogs and a shot gun and they threatened to kill my family if I left… when I hit 20 I had also become an alcoholic and I was ready to end my life again.

After I got away from him I went home to my mum. She was divorcing my step dad and my brother had been diagnosed with mental health issues and was not coping and I was concerned about him living alone with my mum. I got a job, it was awful, my co-worker assaulted me and Id only just got out of that ‘relationship for 3 months and I think part of me gave up inside.

A couple of years later I met my husband and he took me out of all that mess and gave me the first safe home I have ever had. 2 years ago I discovered I was multiple and have been trying to build a healthy relationship with my parts. We are 12 now…and over the last 2 years we have pieced together the story of our life.

I think I'm going to share with people something I've never shared with anyone besides 1 ex before.

**TRIGGER WARNING FOR ABUSE MENTIONS**

I have never been diagnosed but I'm part of a system, we work well together sometimes but sometimes it's annoying to have an ongoing monologue in your head, especially when no one considers DID to be real where I live, or that you can have hallucinations in your head so I guess both are whatever.

I've got three alters, they all have names, distinct personalities, ways of talking, ways of even texting if it comes down to it.

I'm a survivor of intense emotional and verbal abuse and watched my father physically abuse my mother ever since I was a child, when I was 11 I was sexually abused by a stranger both on the internet and in person. I was diagnosed with acute PTSD at 13. Last year in September I watched my father kill himself in our living room, and was diagnosed in November with Severe PTSD dissociative subtype. While the alters have always been there, I've mostly repressed anything before I was 14 at this point, but things have gotten worse with time as my stress levels have gone up. (My father dying, my younger brother almost dying at least twice, etc...).

I guess this is my way of introducing myself to the DID side of 7Cups.

I apologise for how messy this post is written.

I grew up with divorced parents, dad having partial custody. They where'nt violent with me but they used me as an instrument of their resentment of eachother my entire life. When I seen my dad every other weekend he got on my ass about grades. When I seen my mom once a week she would bitch about choirs not getting done. She made me food about once every 3 months so by the age of 8 I pretty much lived on my own with a bitchy roomie who I seen once a week. I had some friends in elementary school but about just 1 by middle school which gave me the social status of a school shooter. Bullying on a daily basis was common, not name calling or fights but tripping me down the stairs on a daily basis or 'pretending' like they were going to run me over. When I was younger I was heavily religious, as I didn't really have any parental figure I guess god was the closest thing I had so I tried to live by his laws hoping everything would get better. At some point in highschool I decided to end it. I knew that if I didn't end it I was going to do something terrible. At this point I already told god to go fuck himself if this is what his creation is really all about. When I tried to end it all of my hatred that grew from everything that had happened separated from me and called out for blood as I began to bleed. From that point on I swore that if it came to it I would end it myself before I would harm another but he swore the opposite...

I grew up fatherless because of my biological father's drug habits and abuse towards my mother. She was only 19 when she had me, so she happens to be still quite young being that I am just about to be finishing high school.

My first ever fatherly figure was killed in a car accident when I was in fourth grade. I was so young that I could barely comprehend what had happened. He had a daughter a few years younger than me and I remember the sincere feeling of losing a sister after she was forced to move in with her mother hundreds of miles away. I also felt disconnected from the students that surrounded me as well. I grew up in a very wealthy place, with many privileged children. Not many people I knew could relate to me.

Things started to turn up for me when my mother met a new man. They were together for almost 8 years. We do not have a lot of wealth as a family, but finally, he raised enough money for a ring and proposed.

Following that, they finally married. I got to fly to where his family is from while they experienced their honeymoon together in Hawaii. However, things got worse afterwards.

He admitted himself into the hospital the day after they came back from Hawaii. It was there that they diagnosed him with stage four mesothelioma in his abdomen. This kind of mesothelioma cancer is so rare, that only between 250 and 500 people are diagnosed each year in the United States.

He passed away just before their four month anniversary.

I was just beginning my junior year at high school. I had to find a new friend's house to stay at each night as my parents were 100% of the time waiting in the hospital for results, scans, etc.

Somehow, with the strength I knew I always had, I managed. I managed to get a 3.8 GPA, still to this day have never received a C on any report card. It's been almost four months since I lost him, but in his memory I look out for my mother, as well as myself.

In his spirit, I find joy in the smallest things. I always attempt to look on the brighter side of things. There is good in everything, it's just up to me to figure out where and what it is! : )

Hello

im new to discovering my parts, they seem to have come out more because I started therapy, it's been long and hard so far with my trying to make baby steps.

last session my therapist mentioned intergration and that's thrown us all in to complete panic i can't even say what all my others feel because they are now hiding from me.

Many help?

** Trigger Warning ** I tried not to get into any detail, but sometimes hard to avoid

I was apparently abused physically and mentally from when I was born by my dad. My mum was never there emotionaly and I barely remember her in my childhood. My dad has clinical depression and we did not discover this I was 13 or so. I don't have any memories before 6. I used to dissociate alot as a child I remember 'the sound going funny' and telling myself to stay calm it would pass soon. I was also bullied in school for a long time and had no friends.

When I was 9 we had a house fire, and the family lost everything, we moved and I slept on a camp bed for the next 6 months in a bungalow. Here is when I have proper 3rd person memories, one in particular stands out of a girl curled up in a room surrounded by towers of boxes it smells of stale smoke and the walls are black. That year I also lost my grandad.

We moved again that year to a house where my parents still live, I went to a new school and someone made up a joke about me looking like Micheal Jackson. At the time Micheal Jackson was being taken to court over child sexual abuse and I used to get bullied by people telling me I liked touching little boys and asking me how much I liked it. By this stage I had serious anger issues and I ended up restricted to a small area of the playground.

After we moved my Dad got worse, until it reached a head and he forced both of us into therapy. My sister started self harming and I kept it a secret from our parents for the next 5+ years along with the bulimia she picked up when she was 13/14. I used to have to listen to everything and I would get messages from friends saying it was bad and I had to go in and bandage her up. Eventually she had to go to hospital for it, and that day I started self harming too. My dissociation by now was really bad, I was losing time sitting in wardrobes for hours and hiding under tables. Eventually my dads abuse got so bad that the school pulled him in and said if he didn't stop and start taking his medication (for depression) they would report him and have us taken away.

At 17 I was cornered and sexually assaulted by a 'friend' from church, I already had a severe eating disorder and that only got worse. This is a relatively new memory of mine as it was lost for 5 years.

By 18 I had my first job, the boss there hired me because he found me attractive, and then went to sexually harrass and eventually assualt me. He was also emotionally and physically abusive. I finally left after a year, having developed another alter Trisha, though i didn't know at the time.

I met my current boyfriend in my next job and I had a period of good times, I started getting my life together going to therapy etc. I finally felt I was getting somewhere. I went on to move to a new job in the city, where in the first week I was date raped and found at 3 in the morning by the police walking the streets of London wearing on my coat and shoes. I am not entirely sure if this had something to do with Trish, but I know she was out at the time.

So I guess thats my story. Sorry its so long lol. I now have 5 known alters, and we are trying to figure out how to live together.

My mother was a single parent from the start since my bio dad split when he found out she was pregnant. I was born dead. My mother had placenta previa. Our placenta was delivered first and I was left inside with no life support. So It was a pretty rough start. Soon after my mother met my step dad. They lived together and my earliest memory is from when I think I was about 18 months old and I saw him beating her till she lay still on the floor. I was told people cant have memories before age 3 but that maybe its possible since I had so much trauma. All I know is that its a memory and I was very young. For a while my step dad prepared me for the abuse that was to come. He fondled me and put his tongue in my mouth and said that he was just playing when I tried to squirm away. When I was 2 he raped me for the first time. I was also 2 when I first remember having parts. I would lay awake at night comforting one part of my self saying it was going to be okay. I would listen to the beating of my heart and thought that a man lived in my ear. I would scratch frantically to try to get him out. The gentle swishing sounded the same as my step fathers feet on the carpet in the quiet of the night. I would listen to the 'man inside my ear' waiting for the real man to arrive but I never remember him getting there. I would often wake up with blood all over my pillow from all the scratching. Another part would take over for the rapes. I would wake up sore in the morning knowing he had been there. In the early years there were lots of drugs and drinking parties. I never remember feeling safe ever. My step dad would hold guns to my mother's head and tell her he was going to kill her if she tried to leave. He put dead bolts that required keys from the inside on all the doors and locks on the windows. He cut all the phone lines so we couldn't call out. (before cell phones) and we were prisoners in our home. When I was 7 my step dad got testicular cancer. At the same time my mother had tuberculosis. They were both supposed to die. I went to live with my aunt and uncle with my brother and their 5 sons. I felt guilty because I would lay awake at night hoping they would die so I wouldn't have to go back. I fantasized about my bio dad coming to rescue me. My oldest cousin used to rub him self against me and fondle me. I would wake up without clothes on but not remember what else happened at night. But it was still better than living with my parents. Miraculously and to my dismay they both got better. I went to live with them again and the abuse picked right back up. My step dad brought his friends and shared me with them. Some times they would rape me and sometimes they would stick metal objects into my vagina. My step dad was always violent and I often had to flea in the middle of the night and hide in bushes till he calmed down. He liked to clean his gun while drunk and we had several bullet holes in the ceiling and floor where it went off. At some point when i was very young my mother's mental illness began. She has been diagnosed schizoid affective disorder. She was never a real mother to me. I don't remember any normal interactions with her. She was always paranoid and was extremely emotional all the time. One example is during a typical thunder storm she would take my brother and i into the basement and hide in the darkest corner under the stairs behind the water heater and crouch in a ball holding us to her sides and scream a blood curling scream over and over till the storm passed. When we drove places (at some point my step dad didn't have to lock us up any more because we were his prisoners without the locks) she was always paranoid about the person driving behind us following us and we would drive in wild circles hiding and screeching away because she believed people were always trying to get us. (I no longer have any contact with my family of origin.) I developed an eating disorder around age 8. This was another part of me. I always wanted to be her. She always seemed to do things perfectly. She could focus at school and she was a beautiful dancer and model. I used dance as an escape and stayed away from home as much as possible. I moved out when I was 18 and went away to college. I met my husband and formed a new identity. I was a wife and a mother and I pushed my past behind me and was determined to be a whole and healthy person. My husband was emotionally abusive but this new identity didn't even see it cuz compared to what she knew of abuse this was insignificant. 4 years into the marriage he had a series of affairs and we separated. He broke into the place I lived and raped me more than once resulting in pregnancy. This brought back a part that had functioned in childhood. Not long after the baby was born the eating disorder part returned as well. Instead of leaving the marriage I/we felt trapped. With no family to go to and 3 small children I didn't feel I could leave. So we stayed. The new identity was often aware of the part that took the abuse showing up during bedroom encounters with the husband. He became more forceful during sexual encounters and more and more she wasn't present for these interactions. He had another series of affairs and there was another separation. But by this time she was pregnant with her 5th child. So she stayed. Two and a half years ago something snapped and she left. We grabbed the children and some bags and we went to a friends house. It was then that the eating disorder part resurfaced again. And for most of the last two and a half years I have felt wild erratic changes of mood and opinion. I felt like I was going crazy like my mother. I spent 4 months in the hospital this time last year for just wanting to die. For the first time in my life a small group of people have gathered around me to care for and support me. I felt like being psychotic like my mother was the worst thing I could do to them. I came home from the hospital but more and more I was realizing that i was losing time and feeling mostly disconnected from the world. And the conversations in my head seemed endless. I again wanted to die. My friends were trying to convince me how painful it would be for every one if I killed myself. I tried to convince them I was doing them a favor. Then one of them said, 'so do you think if you believed you could get better you would want to live?" I hadn't even thought about the possibility that I could get better. After thinking a bit i said yes I think i would want to live if I thought i could get better. She had read a book on dissociation and she believed I could get better if I would accept what was happening inside. I began reading the books I had so fiercely avoided before and I began to have hope. My two counselors and two friends all agree i suffer from a dissociative disorder. I am slowly discovering who each of my parts are and what their purposes are. As I understand the parts I understand my past. I am beyond relieved I am not crazy. All that talking in my head and losing time and feeling like Im in a dream is not psychosis like my mother experiences. I am sane. It feels absurd to admit to my support people all that goes on in my head but they believe me. They actually have to keep convincing me that its true because part of me fights strongly against believing it. They are committed to understand this with me and I feel so blessed that they are studying it with me and helping me understand what's happening inside me. I know now that I can recover from this. I was afraid at first that if I recovered that meant my parts would leave. Now I understand they wont be killed off, they will stay with me and I will blend together with them and all the wonderful things they hold I will hold as well. I am scared to know all the terrible things they know. But I am ready and I want to live and move forward.

@beYOUtywithin We are an undiagnosed system we have known for a few years now I think two or three it started being obvious around seventh and eight grade do to how dissociated we would be all the research the voices of others the different actions and interest but we just thought of we are just having a trauma response but soon we found a few friends with did and osdd and we learned that we had the disorder ourselves and learning that has been hard do to before Noah just ignored all the voices of others and had to deal with the trouble after others left front but we learned to deal with it pretty well and since we learned more about it communicating has been easier not always do to sometimes no one can want to front for a while while other times it is like everyone is yelling but everyone in our system has helped in their own ways dealing with the abuse from our parents and school mates and trauma we still go through from our parents ex's and ex friends but we know one day we will figure lly be recognized by everyone it may not be today or any other day but we know as long as we are open with how our disabilities affect us people will learn to be kinder. And I can't say here has been the most supportive at times we had a middle who was of age range to be on here come back into headspace sobbing do to being invalidated by another system on here who was saying to every other system they were fake and that they were the only real undiagnosable system most of the memories of what was said was blocked by our gate keeper but we do remember another few people fought for hours with this person and we stayed away for a good few months after that but a few months ago we came back really happy to be back and we don't plan on leaving anytime soon especially after learning about the support group that airs every few days 

written by Noah and mime