The Diary of a Repressed Alter...

Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways. - Sigmund Freud

The Pot That Boils Over...

Freud has got some interesting things going on with him, however, this was a very true thing he said. Repressing Alters has never been a good thing. I have done this inadvertently through my life on and off—never, and I repeat NEVER, has it done anything but cause explosive catastrophic events.

Jade was born around when I was 16, I like to think of her back then as my don't take no sh*t gothic, curb stomping, guard dog. Jade was assertive, but she was also very...very...angry. As I mentioned in a previous blog, she was the first one I had contact with by accident. She was always very vocal and for a while, I thought of her as my Mr. Hyde that I heard on and off commenting on situations. We'd be dealing with something and someone would be rude and my own self, not wanting to make waves, would laugh and smile. Meanwhile, behind the curtains, she's cracking her knuckles and asking if they want a punch in the throat for being a jerk.

I thought it was totally normal to have this dual side of myself. I thought that it would subside, that it was just frustration. But then I started losing time. Friends were telling me I was a real jack-wagon and had said something that I normally just wouldn't say. I was asserting myself to near violence and terrifying people who little did I know, in some shape or form, posed a threat to my well-being emotionally or mentally.

And Jade was not having it.

After the incident with my stepmother, she started taking over at an alarming rate, eye rolls, huffing, teen angst was not just that for me. It was borderline aggressively volatile. I was always on the edge of snapping and doing something horrid.

My husband, then my best friend, was well aware but thought it just is like him. Having that side of himself that was violent leaning in action. He took it in stride and met Jade head on without even knowing it and thereby gaining her respect. It wasn't till I finally, after many years of looking for what was wrong, that I accepted she was there. And she wasn't going anywhere.

Except when Luna came in. Luna is what I call her "Alter Twin" they were, as I've said in numerous times, born at the exact same time but for total opposite agendas. When Luna made herself known she was the calmest, sweetest, and kindest person. And she was bent on keeping Jade locked up and safe where we wouldn't harm anyone, including ourselves because at this point Jade had given up.

Jailbreak

She was "on lockdown" for several years till "The Incident" in Texas. The "Person" if that's what we will call him knew about the alters as we had expressed ourselves as very frustrated that no one believed we existed. He had gained our trust and destroyed it with one and a half years of molestation and assault attempts every night. Our privacy was invaded where cameras were hidden in bathroom vents, cameras under door jams, a hole carved in the bathroom doorframe like a peephole.

Everything we did was watched, recorded, tracked.

And we have yet to fully recover.

Jade, having been locked away, broke out. For that year and a half she "fronted" and took all the abuse. The way she states it, if she hadn't I'd have killed myself. She started to be volatile, and watch him as he abused us like a cobra. Waiting.

There were several times I had to stop her from hurting him while he slept.

I have no shame in admitting that she was completely murderous—because we never did anything. But it doesn't mean she didn't want to. If she had her way, he wouldn't be walking this earth. And she had had plenty of opportunities while he slept under the guise that we were too afraid of him. All Luna kept telling all of us was to survive and one day we'd graduate and go back to California with our grandma and everything would be well.

And so she survived, she dragged us to class, she listened, and got passing grades, she placated the man who caused us so much pain each night and made living nearly unbearable.

And then our husband made an appearance again after a while. And that's when things got interesting.

Salt in the Wound...

It's rather astounding to think about that day. The alcohol abuse was the worst. We were made to drink disgusting amounts of booze till blackout so he could have his way with us. Not that it ever worked. The more he tried, the more the alters came to my rescue and made lucidity, when nearly blackout drunk, possible, and the angrier he got. In fact, Jade specifically remembers when he accused us of using him as a sugar daddy and how I had gotten a roof over my head, clothing, a nice perfume for my birthday, and wouldn't put out. As if one's granddaughter is supposed to do that for you after you do something nice for her birthday or Christmas.

As if we were property.

We came home to anything that had been given to us before our brother moved out gone. Nice trinkets we had received in two years, Christmas gifts, anything that he had seen as a benefit of living with him was gone.

Jade was, as one can imagine, irritated. He went on and on about being used by everyone even us because if we loved him, we would do as he wanted. And yet all we did was sit there and stare at him.

Sometimes she really wishes he knew how often she thought of killing him.

But I tell her that it wouldn't do a lick of good to just make him victimize himself when he was the villain.

However, upon leaving and moving to Virginia, we had decided it was time to tuck everyone away. They were tired. I was tired. We all wanted to forget.

But as everyone knows that is hardly possible when there is a stinking, gaping hole in your heart where someone has ripped a chunk out.

Salvation at it's finest...

Five years. It took five years for Jade to say something. When our husband desperately looked at us and begged us to tell him WHAT else was there? He had faced our father, faced our family, fought off anyone who thought to harm us. He had been a warrior on the battlefield crushing anyone in my way and yet, I was unhappy. I was frightened, I was receding and terrified, I wasn't bathing, I was exhausted.

I wanted to die.

And all he wanted to know was if it was the end of the marriage because he didn't want to lose me. Was it someone else?

And she finally said it. The words came tumbling out of her mouth as I sat watching my body move for the first time in years of its own volition with me unable to help. "He abused us."

"Who did?"

"Dan. He raped us."

And it all came out. Everything but the tears. The rage. The confusion, the bubbling emotions Jade had felt during that time crashed down like a ton of bricks. We went to the police that day. And she, in a tone of flatness, told them everything that happened, every detail, every moment, every terror, all of it. But she blocked me out. I can only remember deafly watching. I couldn't hear what she said. I know we did it but have no recollection unless I try really hard to pry the memories from her.

I don't think there will ever be a time she will freely give them over.

She more or less is out now for the good or bad.

But that is another story entirely on how she became Willow.