Auti-multiplicity

Has anyone else here gone through coercive control/ coercive persuasion abuse? We feel as though we have no true self anymore like just a hollow shell and no true knowledge of who we really were if we ever were whole at all I totally relate. We have been trying to answer this for a few days and are finding it quite difficult and very triggering. But, despite the difficulties we wanted to answer this question. We believe that if we can help others manage their struggles by sharing ours, then our own were useful and worthwhile. Who am I (singular self) With regards to your question, we have different perspectives depending on who you ask. We will have to be a little philosophical in the answer we give. Littles and middles get flashbacks. Identity is not a concern, I guess they’re too young for that, but memories are always extremely challenging. They took the brunt of the coercion and manipulation. ABA was only a small apparent fraction of the reality that was happening behind closed doo

The home for abandoned children One day, the man picked up Angel.   They left the house.   The man walked.   He took a bus.   Then walked some more.   Eventually they arrived at a big house, with big steps at the front.   The house was well lit.   It had big windows and big doors, and it seemed to be bustling with activity. He pushed the door open and walked in with the little boy.   A group of women in black clothes and veils welcomed him.   He spoke.   “Here, I brought my son, as agreed.   How much money can you give me?” An old nun replied to him: “What do you mean?   If you cannot look after your child, we can take him.   But we don’t buy children”.   He uttered: “I spoke with the other nun, and she said she would give me some money”.   “We can give you a little bit of money if you need, but for food for you and your family, not as a payment for the child”.   He shrugged his shoulders and extended his open hand to receive the money before he would let the boy go.   She gave h

The first home Eventually he was brought “home”. To begin with, “home” was a dark room.  There was a strange smell in the air.  A little musty.  It smelt a bit like a fish and chip shop after closing time. Here he was blessedly isolated.  He could still hear the same sounds he did while in the womb, but they were not muffled.  They were loud.  And there were a lot more sounds than before.  His heart jumped at every noise.  But at least he was not being bumped.  At least not yet. Eventually, he was put in the sitting room.  There was an old couch.  He used to sit on the left side.  Right at the end.  Next to it, to the left there was a little table with a lamp.  Then a wall.  The door to the dark room was on the right. There was a big French window on the left, next to the little table. It was bright and pleasant. He could see the clouds and the sky, and the sun often shun through the glass giving a congenial hue to the room. He was rarely moved from his place on the couch. H

  It’s a boy     Soon things took a turn for the worse.   One day there was a lot of commotion.   Screams, loud noises, pressure around his body.   At first his head was being squeezed.   He could feel the same was happening to the rest of his body, but light hit his eyes.   Wow.   He couldn’t make up what was happening.   Light.   Silhouettes.   He was trying to make up what was happening as he felt being dangled by a foot when something hit him.   As he whimpered in pain, he noticed the sound of his cries.   Now he knew what some of those sound he heard when in the womb were. There were loud screams, he felt being shoved from one place to another as he was being passed around the nurses, doctors, and eventually his “mother”. He couldn’t understand what those sounds meant, but he later discovered that she had a name for him: Angel. As all this was going on, he was handed something.   He felt he should suck on it.   It was what came naturally.   And it was the right thing

Then came life   He begun spending more and more time in this new place.  He still liked to travel amongst the stars.  He would go there whenever he could.  But as he was becoming more and more human, this became more difficult. As he was getting used to this new way of life, he started feeling things around him.   He had parts he could move.   He wasn’t sure how he could, or what they looked like.   He couldn’t see them.   But he felt them. In the same way he could feel blood coursing through his body.   He didn’t know what it was.   He felt something running through him.   This could taste differently at different times.   Weird! Also, he could feel something thumping inside of him.   His heart beating.   He didn’t know it was his heart, but he soon learnt that it worked in many different strange ways. Eventually, he could hear things too.   Muffled sounds.   He didn’t know what they were. This was the beginning of a new awakening.   Stepping from a dream into a nightmare h

In the beginning there was consciousness Some believe that the Soul is eternal.  It just inhabits a body at some stage, and then it is released again. But then where does it go when it’s not within a body?  What does it do? We could suppose that the Soul, or consciousness, is just like a little blob that floats in space, wandering in amazement at the wonders of the Universe until it is time to be born again. That is certainly how our protagonist felt.  He was amongst the stars.  When he wasn’t thinking he was in a vast dark space, with myriads of little lights twinkling in the distance. He was in a vast dark space, with myriads of little lights If he focused on one single light, he would see it in all its splendid glory. If that little blob of consciousness could breathe, what he could see would have taken his breath away. Hopping from one galaxy to the next. Enjoying each star system, and in constant awe life was amazingly good. If he focused on one single light, he would see it in al

Neurodivergence When I look back at my past, I can see how easy it can be to say that my life story has been following a cycle of abuse that was set in motion before I was even born, and that kept me going around in circles from one relationship to the next. However, that would be oversimplifying and overgeneralizing a long-standing situation with not easily discernible patterns. Undoubtedly my family were abusive, and unquestionably my experiences did contribute to developing a pattern of abuse that followed me through my life. However, why did I never find any allies? What didn’t anyone love me the way I loved them? Why was I not able to build a support network around me in the way others do? And why am I always being exploited? Throughout my life, it would appear I went through at least half a dozen personalities, with a plethora of sub-types. Certainly, I cannot be faulted for my efforts to fit in. My adaptability, flexibility, and willingness to be a productive member of s

The Dark Boys Who am I now? I am not sure who I am at the moment. I did switch earlier, and probably a few times in-between.  I am trying to keep track of my switches and fronting using Simply Plural ( https://app.apparyllis.com/ ), but a lot of the times I just don’t know other than there are a lot of influences. Other times it is easy. So, now I feel like  the image below. I know that, because of what I am writing and how I am thinking Nerdy is the dominant influence at the moment. Which would explain why I am not being especially emotional despite having the Dark boys cycling, and notwithstanding the uncertainty of the “I don’t know” element in the fronting. Nerdy guy, whichever version of him, is unemotional. Facts are facts. Introducing my Dark Boys And exactly because I can observe my Dark ones without being taken in excessively by their state of being, this seems a great opportunity to hazard an analysis to see if it can help me understand them, and therefore understanding ME as