Tuesday 28 August 2012

Reaching Out WorldWide

On August 24th I decided to add a flag counter to this blog in an attempt to better understand who my "audience" is.

The counter itself can be found at the bottom left of this page and can be added to your own site free of charge. This is a map showing the result after 5 days.

In total this blog has been viewed by 142 countries since I added the counter.

Saturday 25 August 2012

Denial, Killer Beliefs, and a Secret Weapon via @TrishHurtubise

Please welcome Trish Hurtubise to the Wounded Warrior blog.

Trish Hurtubise is the Founder and Editor of the web site Mental Health Talk; an eclectic collection of stories and wisdom from people who experience mental health issues. MHT is often called by visitors “a valuable resource” for all things related to mental health. Please stop by if you are experiencing mental health challenges as it is Trish’s intention you leave the site feeling better understood and connected to a courageous tribe.

This is Trisha in her own words.

Denial, Killer Beliefs, and a Secret Weapon

In July 2008 I asked: “What is my diagnosis Dr. S.?”
“I evaluated you as having Complex Post-traumatic Stress Disorder.”
Finally a diagnosis! I had been using alternative therapy since the psychic shock in early 2007. However my mental condition had become worse; slowly spiraling down into depression, flailing around in psychotic bouts, to only sit very still in terror, hoping to hide from the powerful black mass I could feel slowly eating me alive.

It was an alternative practitioner who convinced me to go back to allopathic medicine—he felt I was psychotic.

I trusted him.

I arrived home to look up C-PTSD on Wikipedia. The diagnostic criteria seem to fit but with a gaping hole where I felt psychosis should be.

I didn’t trust my psychiatrist. She was old-school and thought I was too rational to be psychotic (but I had to be or the black mass would consume me. Couldn’t she see that?)

I concluded I did not have C-PTSD; it was an umbrella diagnosis by a psychiatrist who didn’t like to put labels on her patients.

I forgot about my evaluation and focused on getting help with my anxiety, depression and eventually (I convinced Dr. S.) my psychotic states.

Fast-forward to April 2011: I am reading the letter Dr. S. has written to file with my disability application. She has documented the last 3 years of my experience to support her evaluation of C-PTSD. She writes about my gruesome visions of my death.
Something clicks: my visions are my flashbacks.

Jump to May 2012: No longer struggling with psychosis or depression, and taking medication and using techniques to manage my anxiety, I am in recovery. However I still have mental and physical symptoms that no one can really explain, and all the work I have done so far has had very little effect on them.

I decide to look up the symptoms of C-PTSD on a web site known for its content related to everything PTSD.

As I read the information, 95% of my symptoms are staring me in the face.

I become a believer.

Some of us take the long road in our journey to finally have a term to help describe our experiences.

Not always because of misdiagnosis.

Sometimes because of denial.

Your trauma is related to what?

I find it hard to talk about the trauma—not because it triggers me (anymore) but because people’s eyes glaze-over when I describe it.

First off, you have to have some acceptance of the paranormal.

Secondly, trauma related to the paranormal is not openly talked about.

Thirdly, experiencing the trauma again and again through a specific type of energy work for a year and half after the initial shock…

Well this is usually too much for the average person’s brain to comprehend.

I understand completely. When the trauma occurred, I found it really hard to comprehend too.

So much so, I had a nervous breakdown.

I was once told by a person who works with PTSD survivors--a survivor herself--that “While we are each individual in our trauma, we are universal in our PTSD experience.”

I am not alone, regardless of never connecting with someone who has experienced a similar trauma.

Am I safe right now? How about now? What about now?

Now in the midst of processing the extent of C-PTSD on my life, I find the beliefs I’ve formed out of trauma is the biggest hurdle in my recovery.

Beliefs engraved in every fiber of my being as my defense against the reality created by vivid and graphic memories of terror.

Beliefs such as I cannot handle uncertainty, I must stick to the same routine every day, I must be in control of everything, everyone must love me, I am dying.

I think these beliefs keep me safe because I believe if I do not abide by them, I will die.

I know these beliefs keep me, and my world, small. They create a hyper-vigilance so
extreme I spend a good part of my day cutoff from the stimulus around me.

I do my best to honour these beliefs for keeping me safe, even though I question what safety really is. I have tried to dislodge them through energy work and my body goes into distress.

They exist because my most primitive survival mechanisms are now based on them.

Surviving versus thriving? Which one would you choose?

It is not enough for me to just survive my day. I don’t plan to let the wisdom that has come from my experience be shut-in by silence. I plan to live my message and life to the fullest.

I’m studying my beliefs. This involves learning their strengths and weaknesses as well as their effect on my body, mind and soul. They show up in very physical ways—primal fight-and-flight energy stored in my body that was not released after trauma (the powerful black mass I felt during psychosis). I do this through connecting with my intuition via words and symbols and creating art from that--a process I have learned that channels my sixth sense into something empowering and grounds me in reality.

I also use EFT with a trained practitioner to shift the primal energy very gradually.

I am gently challenging my beliefs. I challenge their validity through action; baby steps to prove them otherwise.

I am rebuilding the skills I need to form new beliefs and counteract the existing ones. I focus on nurturing my self-esteem, reconstructing my self-confidence, renewing my faith in my divinity, validating my self-worth, being present, and surrendering to exactly who I am and what I am doing in the moment.

I know who I am. This allows me to envision my future based on what I have to give versus what I can do within my mental and physical limits. Focusing on the giving,

I always find a way regardless of how rough the terrain gets.

My secret weapon

It’s self-love.

I tend to it with the care of the Mother. Then I practice it with no excuses. I will continue to practice it every day for the rest of my life.

I know this for certain because it saved my life and I tend to be pretty disciplined when it comes to practicing lifesaving techniques. This diligence comes with the PTSD territory.

It gave me life too—a new life that is sensual, fulfilling, and blessed with gratitude.

You deserve this as well.

Follow Trish on Twitter

Wednesday 22 August 2012


It is with great sadness that I must report that the male self group set up by my very good friend Steve Bevan has had to close down due to financial restraints during these very troubling times.
The website will remain live for the time being at least but the phoneline is switched off and the individual and group therapy sessions have ended.
Steve will hopefully still be involved with helping male survivors in the future and I shall keep you posted as and when information is available.
Steve, a survivor himself, has devoted most of his adult life to helping other, non-offending, male survivors of childhood sexual abuse and adult rape. Without men like Steve the world would be a much darker place for men like myself.
I salute you Steve, along with the thousands of other men you have helped over the years. You are a champion and one hell of a nice guy!
AMSOSA - Adult Male Survivors Of Sexual Abuse

Building Blocks

Most people have a happy childhood right? My childhood had happy moments, but overall was a very miserable experience.

It is said that a child's character is formed by the time they are six years old. We are born with a predetermined number of building blocks and how we are raised, how we are treated and the experiences we have decide how we use these building blocks.

Our reactions to danger, trust, pain, love, anger, fear depend on where we place these building blocks.

So much in life is a "two way street". Give and take, action and reaction.

If our formative years had a high percentage of negative experiences then we react by building walls in an attempt to lessen the impact of these events. As we are young builders then we may build these walls too high, thereby isolating ourselves and making it very difficult to let anyone close in the future.

As well as blocking out the bad experiences, we also block out good ones. Our reactions to events in later life may become inappropriate because the walls we built in childhood are too high or too low.

Hiding behind too many walls leaves us miserable and isolated. In an attempt to protect ourselves in childhood we inadvertently deny ourselves the ability to fully enjoy and appreciate life.

Every good building should be built on solid and safe foundations. Foundations can crack if not built with the correct materials and in turn the building on which the foundation stands becomes unstable.

The age at which traumatic abuse occurs can determine how we cope with it. In my case the abuse started when I was still a toddler. My foundations cracked and in turn the building of my life became very unstable, to the point that it actually broke into separate sections. Some walls fell down and some of the debris used to strengthen what remained standing. It made me an "incomplete" adult.

Walls exist where there should be doors; open spaces where a wall should protect me; turrets instead of boundary walls.

My reactions to danger, trauma and intimacy became exaggerated. Trust became distorted. The survival instinct kept me alive but not fully functioning. With my incomplete structure I allowed enemies in and kept friends out. Cracks exist, some wide enough and deep enough to trap and imprison me. One wall deals with danger, another love. A tower handles trust and a drawbridge intimacy. Fear resides in a moat and anger in the metal spikes that top the walls.

All different, segmented, pieces of whom I should have been. Some pieces working independently whilst others have wooden bridge linking them tentatively. Together they form me, my castle.

I'm calling in the builders. I don't want repairmen anymore that just patch and make do. It's time to rebuild, this time in safety and with love and care too. No longer an eyesore but something to be proud of, something appropriate. Join me?

Tuesday 21 August 2012

Reporting suspected paedophiles on Twitter

Twitter only acts when it receives complaints. Even then their response is far too slow. Twitter is a paedophiles’ playground, with perverts using the site to swap vile images and videos of ­children as well as trying to groom vulnerable and innocent children.

I have reported several very obvious paedophiles over the last year and not once have I had a response from Twitter.

One BIG mistake that many people do is to include the @ sign when discussing potential perverts. All this does is alert the culprit who may simply delete their tracks or set up a new account.

As angry as you may be it does not help catch these depraved perverts by calling them names or telling them to get off Twitter, you are in fact helping them by pre warning them.

You can email Twitter with your suspicions on cp@twitter.com

There are also several "anon" Twitter groups that are actively working to rid Twitter of these scum.

Contacting the police and child protection organisations may also help as will


Be aware, be vigilant and be careful how you discuss these "people".

Thursday 16 August 2012

I walk by faith! #poetry

You took away my innocence 
My hopes, my dreams, my youth
You took from me my very soul
What could have been, I never knew

Your words would cut me deep inside
Deep to the very core
Darkness. Cold. I could not feel
Why did you hate me so?

You crushed me as I screamed in pain
Your words ripped out my heart
The world grew dull. I felt insane
Did you ever care about that part?

Is that what you wanted all along?
"I win!" "You lose!" A game?
Control, submission, guilt, defeat
Yet, I still remain

It was for a child that I lived
Although I rather would have died
Now, how I thank God for that child!
Because of him,  I have survived

I will live in spite of you
You no longer have a say
My Life, my Body, my Mind, my Soul
You will never again have control

Whether in this world or in the next
Justice will have a way
You hurt me and you almost won
But "You Lost!", I have to say

A new Dawn breaks of Hope and Peace
Of Happiness and Grace
From me, these things YOU CANNOT TAKE
My head held high, I walk by Faith!


A Song of Life: Being DID via @jeffssong

I met Jeff online about a year ago. We have quite a few things in common.

About Jeffssong

JW is an adult childhood abuse survivor with DID*. He grew up in a violent family devoid of love and affection. He is a military brat and veteran. He still struggles with that past, things he's done, done to him. In 1976 JW began writing "The Boy". It took 34 years to complete. It is currently on Kindle (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004T3IVKK ), or if you prefer hard copy, on Amazon ( http://www.amazon.com/Boy-J-W/dp/1461022681). JW resides somewhere in the deep South. He is disabled and living with family. Note: Please feel free to take what you need; all is free to all. With that in mind, keep it that way to others. Thank you. We have 3 Blogs - One for our younger days, 0-10 (The Little Shop of Horrors); one for our Teen Alter and his 'friends' (also alters) with a lot of poetry; and finally "my" own, the Song of Life (current events and things)

This is a copy of a recent post from his blog.

About a week ago (it seems), a blogger asked a very important question which has for a long time bothered me: “How many are there in you?”. (Thanks, Hobs! – evil grimace, friendly grin, et cetra ad infinitum.) And if you look up there at my ‘menu bar’ you will see a new entry: “Who Are ‘WE’?”.

Now I’ve tried this before without much success. The system is so complicated . . . realizing alters (alternate personalities) have their own alters makes it even more difficult. But it’s the truth; that’s where some of my “Groups” have come from. And it makes sense. My wife, who I talked to about this, agrees: A host developed new alters to handle his situation, then when a new situation emerged which required a new host, new alters were built to handle the transition (the old host had ‘failed’) – and then the new host, in response to his situation, built new alters of ‘his’ own. Therefore are more ‘alters’, ‘entities’, ‘constructs’, ‘ghosts’, and ‘beings’ – than I had originally suspected. Originally I thought there were just three or four – then last year sometime I was willing to admit the number might be more – even in the high teens. But now? Now I find there are over (perhaps) thirty of them, with the potential for more.

Here is a ‘still’ from a movie I made a long time ago which showed rotating shells protecting a central core. The original was an AVI format which this website will not display; I will have to convert it to an animated GIF or some other suitable format later on . . .

Imagine a series of broken shatter ‘shells’ (read ‘selves’ or ‘alters’) rotating and counter-rotating around a central core (unseen). These are the ‘parts’ to myself. Each was constructed to ‘protect’ someone ‘inside’ – and each has parts of its own.

Yeah, it’s that complicated – somewhat. But here you go, Hobs: what you asked for – a summary ‘list’ of my beings. Read my “Self-Inventory” for more – and a complete (as far as I can tell) list and understanding how ‘this’ system works . . . and be aware that not all are available for ‘conversation’; some are only internal beings – they work for ‘me’ and ‘ours’ – helping ‘us’ to heal in some ways, learn more in others.

People kept asking . . . so there ya go.

DID & Me: Self-Inventory – July, 2012

To understand a person with DID, you have to understand their ‘system’ and how it works. While there may be similarities between two people with a dissociative identity diagnosis, no two systems are the same. As best I can determine and describe this is ‘mine’ at this time. Be aware that it can change.

The first rule of a DID system is every rule can be broken.

Dynamics: A dynamic system can evolve to meet new circumstances. I have a “dynamic” system. New personalities can be formed, usually starting with the creation of a persona. Depending upon how long a persona exists, it can develop into a permanent alter. An alter’s power and influence can ‘fade’ over time, but they cannot be destroyed. At best they become dormant. We several dormant alters. Some must be kept dormant to protect society and ourselves. They do not fit society and can present a physical danger to others or my self / selves.

“3 on Top”. This rule dictates only 3 alters may be ‘active’ and in control at a time. More than three and the ‘system’ can become unstable and crash. Crashing is like a computer rebooting – we ‘disassociate’ almost completely and then come back together to face the situation which caused the crash. This is where what I have dubbed “the Tinkertoy System” comes in.

A Tinkertoy system can mix and blend various alters either spontaneously or on command, which adds to the flexibility and complexity of the system’s dynamics. Cooperative co-conscious alters can merge to some degree in order to present a desired persona or survival trait. An example would be ‘me’ (the host) merging two ‘selves’ (or groups of selves – more on that later) – to form a ‘new’ persona (or ‘mask’) to a person, group, or culture. “We” are DID in part due to the need to assimilate and adapt into new cultures and environments. A year ago only certain ‘groups’ (think of them as individuals with alters of their own) and alters could merge; others were incompatible with each other. For instance, neither my teenage alter nor the “Beast” could merge with Little Mikie (who is controlled by Little Michael) because of hatred issues based on the shame ‘they’ (the older alters) felt at what the younger ones had done. Many of my alters had grouped into factions which were at war with each other, causing self-harm, highly destructive behaviors, and constant suicidal idealization.

There are multiple categories of ‘alters’ within a DID system, ‘ours’ is no different. In order to create an accurate, logical inventory, we have decided to try inventorying “ourselves” again. The descriptions are presented in general order of influence and power; eg. Hosts are more powerful (or exert more influence) than transients; transients more powerful than ghosts.

These are the most important individuals. They are not ‘groups’, nor can they form groups, but they have groups of their own. These are alters developed to present to the outside world, and to manage (to some degree) inner alters, hosts, ghosts, and artificial creations. Each alter has ‘my’ birth name, though ‘we’ have learned to differentiate both for the outside world (making sense of it all to you) – and our inner one(s). We have three hosts – the former child, the teen, and our adult self (typing this). However, using our given name will not ensure the ‘rise’ of a particular alter, host, or being. It simply gets most of ‘our’ attention.

Note: It is important to be aware that while each ‘host’ IS an individual, each ‘host’ created alters in their time. Therefore in a sense each host is a ‘group’ – they are ruled by the dominance of the Crowd (hence my saying we are a majority run system) – but ‘they’ can stand alone as well, putting their ‘alters’ aside – or sharing them with us. When a particular ‘host’ shuts down, ‘we’ can lose all ‘his’ memories – as well as the memories and skills ‘inside’ him or possessed by someone inside him.

Transient Hosts
These are personalities that were being developed for what was perceived as a permanent situation – and then the situation changed, making them unsuitable for the environment they were in. Think of them as ‘aborted hosts’. We have numbers for some, eg. “13” and “21”. They are still hosts of a kind, but limited, crippled, and most of them are hurting inside. They were not fully formed before ‘we’ had to move on. In a sense some “died”. Many of these transitory beings were used as stepping stages to building a new long-term host, unknown to the conscious mind.*

Ghosts are beings which have been built on someone else, generally a outside person in our environment who had some major effect on us by simply being there or being an influential person in our lives.

“Beings” or “Entities”.
These are some of our oldest group. One of them is a “Recorder”, the ‘person’ responsible for recording our lives. We found he could “split” into 3 clones during information overload and depending upon our desire to learn. He resembles an old college professor, bald pate, with white lab coat – somewhat lanky – twinkling eyes and a vast amount of storage space. (10 to the 10 Gigs is what he says – which makes sense, given what we’ve read about the current amount of information the human brain can hold.) There is some information which he keeps hidden from us. In our mind he ‘lives’ in sort of a college lecture auditorium, stands behind a high desk (where he keeps his notes and ‘things’ – meaning notes we can’t or are not allowed to read) – and he ‘stores’ said information in a tall circular ‘room’ in our head, quite like a towering warehouse.

Another is a group of Scientists we keep on hand for topological information, analysis of fact, and some of our logic skills. “They” (the Scientist Group) are broken down by specialty; eg.you have the “Astronomers Clique” (which includes some of the General Physics Group), the Life Sciences (including, but not limited to Genetic Engineering, following life cycle trends, and keeping an eye on ‘things’ – meaning medical science and advances in anything ‘life’ related, including the Ecological Group – which is in turn broken down into several internal groups, such as the “Urban Clique” (for analyzing neighborhood type animal/plant lifestyles), the “Wild Clique” (true wildlife heroes), and other such similar groups. Each group is responsible for remembering what we read; only life experiences go into the Recorder mode (though he may keep some notes, too). They are collaborative, cooperative, and serve the entire being.

Artificial Constructs
These are ‘beings’ or entities which we knowingly created on our own. All were created by a ‘host’ at our command, or what ‘he’ (the living actual host at the time) thought was his own internal motivation and/or command. One of our first artificial constructs was “the Soldier” – created by “M1”, or “Little Michael”, our very first ‘human being’ (host). He created the Soldier to satisfy the demands of his father and his own heart. He wanted so much to be the “little Soldier” that his dad would admire and feel proud of. Again, he failed – but that didn’t keep him from adding to the Soldier’s stock of inventory in terms of the “military machine” – how to jump wearing parachutes, how to lay a mine . . . that kind of stuff.

The next totally artificial being I am aware of building was “The Machine” – a really tough one built by “13” (a transitory host) who had the seeds of our Teen, aka “M2” (2nd host), aka Matthew Washington. This was partially initiated by “Little Michael” the little one who was still in feeling lonely and betrayed by his emotions – love, especially, and “13” who discovered nothing remains the same and decided he was done with friends – forever – for it seems you only ended up losing them . . . Together with some help from various alters, ghosts, and beings – the Teen was born in the Machine. He was born there to protect him, but got out later on – (and soon after “21” – a transitory host – was born).

So . . . with this rough list in hand, we will begin ‘assembling’ and/or describing our system as best we can. Bear in mind: this is a dynamic system, and not only can ‘it’ change (new personalities can be created) – but the ‘power’ or ‘influence’ of various elements can change (quite radically perhaps in some cases) depending upon the environment ‘we’ are in.


Hosts and/or “Major Players” are in Bold – often deal with the real world and its problems and ‘things’. Label in parenthesis indicates apparent ‘type’. They are presented (roughly) in order of appearance / development.

“Baby”. (Dormant). Assumed to have developed into “the Toddler”.
“The Toddler” (Early Host? Dormant.) Typical human toddler who was beginning to have some problems; ‘he’ developed the ability for disassociation and for projecting our mind inwards. He lost his fear when his mom tried to kill him. He is able to separate himself from reality somewhat. (Eg. ‘Going away’ in his head to envision life in an orphanage named “The Bad Boys Home” while his mom faked calls (threats of abandonment) – and how life would be for boys like him.
“Little Michael”. (Host. Active, but with little influence. That is changing as ‘we’ work with him to shed his ‘alter ego’, Little Mikie. “He” was using the plural terms of “we” mentally at about age 6, though not out. “He” is for the other kids to play with. “He” is used to sucking up punishment – but not enough . . . “He” goes on to build our first true alter . . . We suspect ‘he’ was developed in part to help “the Toddler” because Little Michael thinks rationally through problems instead of feeling panic or fear (something his mom did to him). His alters (which he protects very diligently) are “The Toddler” and “The Baby”, while he relies on all of “us” to protect ‘him’.
“The Soldier”. (Entity/Being – started as an Artificial Construct). Mostly Dormant. Created by Little Michael to impress his dad. Kept for defense and offensive measures; for bearing pain. Handed ‘over’ to Little Mikie whenever Little Mikie ‘took over’.
“Little Mikie”: (Entity. Active.) Little Mikie is a projection created by Little Michael to deal with grownups, his own sex life, and for handling “the Soldier”. “He loves sex,” would be one way of putting it. Seven to ten years old – he started losing power around 10 or 11. Intensely curious, loves to please, always with a bright smile . . . but is basically a puppet for “Little Michael” and the injured Toddler. Little Mikie is ‘fading’ as attempt to force / help “Little Michael” become ‘more himself’. When we find we are dealing with “Little Mikie” we go to Little Michael to find out why. He uses that persona on us / other people else, except when we are having sex. That is when Little Mikie comes out due to his eagerness to please. Little Michael, 13, and Little Mikie all want to be held after sex. Not dormant, he is able to stand great pain – and holds great love.
“Jeremy”. Temporary Host. Dormant. Built specifically for dealing with the Germans and exploring German architecture and it’s culture. Controlled by Little Michael and Little Mikie. Of no real importance except he contains a lot of our memories from ‘over there’ exploring and all.
“13”. Transitory Host / Entity. Active (because we are working with him to reduce his pain). He appearedt when we came back to the United States and found the place where we grew up had changed. Instead of ‘our’ house we were living in our abuser (aka molester’s) house, and all friends were gone except one family which had also changed. We are ‘growing up’ around this time. Divorce among parents begins. Two schools and three moves in one year helped contribute to his misery and confusion. Racial tensions. “13” got hit (and bit) by a LOT of things (which explains why he is so depressed, angry, lonely and sad). 13 currently has much ‘power’ since ‘we’ are working with him – trying to alleviate his pains, his internal sadness, agony at losing friends . . . there’s a lot ‘wrong’ with him; he’s a boy in much pain . . . “WE” all know ‘he’ contains ‘others’ (Jeremy, perhaps Sarah, Samuel, perhaps ‘others’) inside . . . and that when ‘he’ goes into hiding we can lose a lot of our mind (read: memories).
“The Machine” – Host / Entity / Artificial Construct. Dormant. Built by “13” along with some ‘help’ from his friends, “The Machine” was supposed to be an emotionless ‘being’ modeled after a machine – no love, no hate, no anger, no anything. And it worked, albeit barely (after all, we ARE human whether we like it or not) – but it set the ball rolling for our hatred of love and ‘things’ (emotional responses to anything at all, including rage, hatred, love, envy, jealousy . . . any emotion was up for suppression; however, the ones which hurt us most were specifically targeted to be ‘kept out’ and/or ‘kept in’ the Machine. This entity was VERY strong for a long time, up until ‘we’ were 21 or so (both the personality, the mind, and the body).
The Teen, aka Michael, aka Matthew Washington. HOST for a long time. Very active, still powerful and controlling. A typical teenager with issues of his own; biological sexuality is now blooming (though we were a late bloomer – an issue for years – didn’t get pubic hair until we were about 15) . . . violent, unstable, illogical sometimes; given to rages and loss of self and control. He is a repository of most of our technical information and is ‘allowed’ access to scientific knowledge; a LOT of control . . . one of our ‘good’ drivers, though he is apt to take a chance . . . imagine a hard core teen with survival traits out the kazoo. “He” (and 13) studied survival for a LONG time . . . of many kinds.
The Marine: Artificial Construct which became an Entity. Active. About 21 years old. A younger Marine PFC or Pvt., well trained and educated with devotion to Duty, Country, and “fellows” (men under his command or other Marines or Servicemen.) He is dedicated to protecting Civilians, especially Americans. The Soldier guides him in the field, but he mediates what the Soldier does since the Soldier can be inhumanly brutal and cruel (due to the Soldier’s associations with “The Beast”), up to and including killing infants, women, children – you name it. The Marine (and others) keep the Soldier and the Beast in check – and kept them in check in the field when we could have actually hurt someone without meaning to.
“Sarge”. Entity evolved from “the Marine”. A subset of “the Marine”. Older (24 or so). Developed in order to take care of responsibilities, especially towards ‘our men’ (troops under our command) which meant shutting down certain emotions and reinforcing others. One, for instance, was love. We loved many of them – and fell in love with one – but weren’t allowed to express it. Indeed, we had to be prepared to sacrifice people we loved – our love and our men, in our devotion to duty, country, and our other men.
The Beast. Entity. Semi-active. Age unknown (ancient). “He” has always been with us to some degree; however, he ‘solidified’ under 13′s tenure, and then again under the Marine and “21” (another transitory being). Imagine an inhumanly cruel, vicious, sociopathic monster that makes Satan look pale by comparision. “The Beast” long held a desire to ‘consume and burn’ – everything. “He” is under control and ‘drowsing’ in a field in a forest (of Oz) in our mind. “He” more closely resembles “Puff the Magic Dragon” right now – and our ‘kids’ can play with him. He’s finally learned to love somewhat . . . and we hope to build within him a hatred towards destruction anymore . . . This used to be a very powerful, sometimes ruling entity and could be quite cruel. “He” hasn’t lost his power . . . just ‘temporarily’ set it aside . . . just in case it’s needed sometime. He is controlled by the Soldier, Little Michael, the teen and the Marine, D.A. Michael and some others.
“21”. Temporary Host. Semi-active. Born in under 15 minutes on a fair ride (quite literally – on a ride at a fair). Occurred when the Teen recognized and realized we needed love and he had failed. At that point the Teen pretty much ‘threw up his hands and died” – and 21 was ‘born’. 21 began working on our issues. It was then we began realizing we’d been abused and were not normal in some ways . . . one being that ‘I’ (or he) had disparate parts inside that did not think or ‘feel’ like him. . . and some of them had names. 21 is fairly dormant, but still troubled, and still aids us in helping to analyze what happened at that time (ages 20-25). He has a very specific ‘location’ (a small room where we all worked for some time in a huge old WWII building at the back of a huge Army base . . . ordering ‘things’ by the hundreds. We had an unlimited budget back then. Quite literally: backed by the entire Federal Government. Millions of dollars were spent . . . by our own hand.)
“Whistler”. (Ghost? Alter? Approximately 18-24 years old?) Active, but not allowed influence (if we can help it). A nice guy but dangerous in some ways. Haunts the Dark City alleys in the Neighborhood of my mind . . . and whistling . . . and lurking in my mind. We will not discuss him at this time except to say that you would not like him. He is nice to you . . . and more. Just not going there with him; this guy ‘we’ have to keep under strict control, lock and key, all the time. Just not going there with him. But we have had our fights sometimes – some REAL fights sometimes (cutting, burning, cauterizing it out of him . . .)
“24”. Transient Alter. Dormant. Not really sure, but this may have been the ‘birth’ of the current host being (M3) or “Michael” and the adult host being. May have taken two years to ‘evolve’, leading into something just ‘sensed’ at this time: #26. We’re not sure.
M3, aka Mike aka Michael: Current Host. Alter, Active. Fair amount of influence. 38 years old ‘mentally’; 52 physical. Limited power. Mostly I ‘work’ with my alters to help ‘run’ the system, “I” am there for my wife (sometimes); I am the one who make responsible decisions, watches the budget (“party-pooper!” I hear in my head, LOL!) – but I am a majority system and therefore must ‘bow’ to majority rule. THAT, however, does not mean I won’t make fight, stand my ground, and argue with the ‘others’ to make a point or change ‘their’ minds . . . however, “I” can be ‘shuffled away’ – and the ‘grownup’ in me sort of ‘disappears’ until he’s needed again. Think “long distance manager’ – though I might be the one talking to you face to face most times. I am also “split up” into various alters, one being “the Businessman” (exactly what the name indicates) – kinda cold-blooded, hard, and calculating, “the Father” (to all my insiders and some else); the father to my daughter, and sometimes ‘someone else’ depending upon the mixture of my ‘alters’ that I chose to display and/or ignore. “I” am often not aware of ‘things’ in the background; ‘they’ make plans and . . . well, quite frankly, I’m confused some of the time, and yes: I really ‘doubt’ this thing (DID system) – and hate it sometimes – but have made the decision to ‘go along’ – and ‘we’ have (in general) been much happier since, so I “bite the bullet” and go down/under sometimes.
Jeffery Thompson: (Entity/Semi-host). “WE” offered him hosting duties, but “he” declined. “HE” does not WANT to be boss of us. HE is just here to ‘help us along’. In our mind ‘he’ was ‘sent’ by someone else (perhaps God, in our mind.) We’re not sure, but we’re certainly glad ‘he’ came! (Born Jan 1, 2011, ‘appeared’ and made himself known on April Fools Day 2011.) This is our mediating being; a therapist, the ‘one’ who helps ‘us’ settle things internally; who brought us around to loving ourselves and one another; helped us determine our relationships to ourselves and others; determines plot & strategy for us as a whole, . . . This is a very important Being to us. We really are not sure of what all ‘he’ is doing – except all he’s done is help us, he has a ‘clean’ mind; a single goal: of helping ‘us’ to survive, thrive, and love one another and ‘build’ a more and better cooperative system . . . and something else . . . something along the religious line, which brings us to the . . .
Spiritual Beings:

D.A. Michael” (Dark Angel Michael), aka (full name) Angel With Dark Wings (Hands Full of Sorrow): Fairly Dormant, but can be Activated at any time. Very close to the ‘core’, and part of our spiritual being, future, and past being. He has been severely damaged in his ‘last fight’ (if you believe in reincarnations – and of angels, too.) No, he isn’t Archangel Michael – not by a long shot. As best described he might be a platoon leader for him – and he ‘leads’ little children because their hearts are pure and brave in battle – like no others are. And ‘his’ children ‘died’ in some God-awful battle . . . ‘sometimes’ and ‘somewhere’. “We” see him standing on a cliff overlooking an immense battlefield . . . somewhere far off; perhaps on a different ‘planet’, perhaps on a distant plane . . . he lost the ‘fight’ (or the will to fight) to something – over grief, perhaps, for his dying children . . . all of US are gathered around him; ‘we’ support him but he will lead us in the end, ‘we’ feel . . . towards something greater than ourselves and the Final Battle . . . we’ll see. Not everyone makes it to that end; some of us have different destinies when ‘we’ are released from this human body; this human ‘machine’ . . .
The Core: sensed and found last year early April. Imagine a ball of streaming fireballs interlaced with one another whirling around – neither warm nor cold, but like a lot of minds! – chasing one another’s tails all around; sort of a ‘solid’ entity – to ‘us’ it represents a lot of what we think god looks like: a multimind, comprised of billions upon billions of souls . . . all working towards some common goals . . . along with some ‘dark ones’ on the other side . . . Effects? Unknown.
“Satan” – Active alter of limited influence. ‘We’ split ‘Satan’ into two parts: The Insane Baby and Satan. Satan is our friend, but he can lie, do tricks (trick someone), deceive, play nasty games.
Satan’s Insane Baby: Active, but as best we can not allowed any influence our our decisions internally or externally. The ‘howling bad parts’ of that personality. Can cause depression, guilt, pain – but ‘our children’ take care of him. Sealed off from the rest of ‘us’, but can cause problems
Which leads us to a trick we do – or did. Having been faced with the ghost of “MOM” (yes, modeled after my mother – but an evil hissing thing) – we ‘split’ that ghost into two beings, one being “MOM” (still insane and living in the rocks of my mind – hissing, evil gloating, pessimism, putting down – undermining – ‘she’ tries to do this but ‘we’ ignore her at this time), and the ‘rest’ – the things we wanted ‘her’ (mom) to be we split off and made into:
Aoela (Ghost, Active, Low Influence) – a woman in my mind, made from the remnants of ‘MOM’ . . . and something else. Aoela is a strange being; a ‘made up woman’ sometimes – and sometimes quite real. She is very hurt by her OWN past – which is not mine! “Her” past comes from ancient times – a long sad story about an ancient priestess who fell in love with someone . . . maybe another reincarnation of our “Michael, Angel With Dark Wings and Hands Full of Sorrow” – but their love was doomed to failure; she was killed when she began to preach in the concept of there being one god after all . . . sacrificed on the Temple steps right there in front of the crowd . . . really looks like old . . . I don’t know. Older than Romans. Dirty, dusty, nasty . . . But she lives on my Island along with all (or most of) the kids . . .
At about the same time Aoela showed up (last year) along comes Sarah (Ghost, Active, Low Influence), then Samuel. As best I can determine these two kids are related; perhaps sister and brother, and they were murdered. Aoela takes care of them. This is part of her learning to be a proper mother (whispers a voice in my mind. So that makes 2:
Samuel: (Ghost, Active, Low Influence) I’m not certain that he is a Jewish kid; I think this was before Judism evolved. But something went wrong; their village / whatnot was attacked (by pirates come the words, but I think ‘he’ means ‘terrorists’ or thugs of some kind) . . . his sister hacked up and so is him . . .
Note: there is a notion in my mind that his sister may have been reincarnated into Aoela, but I’m really not quite sure. This is all a fiction as far as “I” am concerned – but a fairly stable fiction at that. I can’t quite seem to ‘get rid’ of ‘them’ – but I’m all right with that.
Religious Man, aka “Dad”. Ghost, Active, High Influence. Just like my old man, only spouting religion (Christian beliefs), making me try to feel guilt all the time (just like ‘MOM’), lives in a narrow ‘room’ surrounded by his books (very much like real life nowadays) – bedevils me with questions, is insanely rightwing conservative (rabidly so); can be highly prejudiced against some groups (example: people with AIDS: feels they are a religious curse visited most justly by god on them . . . including the little kids who were just born with it . . . doesn’t matter . . .)
The Recorder: Entity, Active, Very Important! Been with ‘us’ a long time. Can split ‘himself’ into 3 beings (temporarily, of course!) – until the information stops flooding in. Useful for classes and tech details, too.
The Scientists Crowd: Entities, Active, at least four or five. May just be ‘one’ with many ‘facets’ or ‘sides’ to him. Minimum requirement for most things. Known ‘sides’ include (but are not limited to):
Astronomy / Physics
Life Sciences
Social & Mind Science
All Other Sciences
The Crowd: Number unknown. Best guess? To infinity – or thereabouts. Each is represented by the ‘possibility’ of a personality and/or ‘double’ (whatever that means; it’s the first time I’ve found I’ve used it in DID talk; perhaps it means “quining”, as in to duplicate a computer program a second time.
There are also ‘ghosts’ or remnants of ‘other’ personalities – some that were formed at this ‘school’ or that one; ones formed – and then (partially) destroyed, ‘faded’, or just ‘gone away’. We can ‘sense’ them in our minds sometimes – hints of flavors, like; or seeing smoke and smelling a color. What effect – or influence – ‘they’ have on my mind, I don’t know. Which brings me to the ‘greatest’ or ‘biggest’ group of all:

The Crowd
There is the constant murmuring of “the Crowd” – a dense set of ‘beings’ which is really hard to ignore – and ‘parts’ of myself can ‘disappear’ into it, organizing some; forming ‘factions’ – lots of things. You’ve got to remember: DID (for me) is dynamic system, but ‘major players’ and quite a few of the minor ones are represented here for all to see. There are ‘other’ children, and “the pretend ones” on our Island nation – but those are for entertainment and the Crowd and to “take care of things” (meaning the health of our internal selves). Imagine a small Hawian type of nation, complete with a fat dark skinned chief dressed in a grass skirt . . . his friends, village, family . . . a very complete ‘thing’ and ‘vision’ to me – our ‘healing place’ sometimes, and a ‘place’ for our kids complete with ‘friends’ for them to play with . . .

This ‘place’ has also been around with ‘us’ for a long long time . . . I think it started when I was about 12 and read “Lord of the Flies” . . . and it started from there, this fantasy ‘island’ coupled with some science fiction I had read complete with Margaret Meade’s work on island nations (and the sexuality within) . . .

Lots of things.


The Ice World (no longer in use). This is a place where we ‘stored’ the boy (Little Michael, and therefore ‘his’ projection-turned-persona, Little Mikie) for a long while – over a decade and some years. This was both for our protection and ‘his’ in some ways, but it was a very hard thing to do and made us self-harm and suicidal.

The Island World: A place for healing, it has what I call “Pretend Beings” – items created for our ‘others’ – and yet in a way ‘they’ (the natives of our Island) are very real, in that ‘they’ love and can advise ‘us’ sometimes – very healing. And there’s no way it’s on Earth, or even (perhaps) in our local galaxy. An imaginary world, it has a horizon (deepening, with stars) that helps indicate how ‘we’ all are feeling.

The Dome (with it’s hallways). An old system of control; abandoned now, but the hallways (lined with doors) aren’t – ‘they’ contain our loves from the past – like long diamond shards suspended over stone pedestals, they can hurt and cut, but are beautiful to hold. “We” are very careful about ‘handling’ them because, well . . . it’s love. Lost and found again. And again and again and again. Until it hurt to hold them. So ‘we’ put them ‘there’ as part of our building the Machine . . . in order to get rid of those emotions. (Love.)

Dark City: Whistler’s place.

Oz Woods: The Clearing – where the ‘dragon’ or our old “Beast” ‘sleeps’.

The Babies Room: Where we keep all our insane ‘babies’. One of them is Satan, or at least a part of ‘him’. Another is a miniature version of ‘our mom’. Our ‘children’ take care of them.

I think “the Toddler” built “Little Michael” to deal with grownups and kids – and to shield himself from his mom (and perhaps dad). Perhaps Little Michael built the Beast around this time; more likely the Toddler did. Little Michael then built Little Mikie to handle pain, deal with grownups – while ‘he’ (Little Michael) kept himself around to play with the kids, go to school, and have fun. The two are intangled, with Little Mikie being more of a ‘puppet’ for Little Michael to hide behind.

Little Michael then ‘built’ the Soldier as a conscous effort (happened when we were about 7 or 8 – I can still recall the exact time, place, moment, et all on that one).

A temporary personality was apparently ”built” for our move to North Carolina (#9). He relinquished control when ‘we’ came back ‘home’ again.

This personality may have cropped up again when we moved to Germany. This is where “Jeremy” appeared. Our “little soldier” was strengthened by this experience.

Coming back, “13” was born, but soon gave the reins over to “The Machine”, in which the Teenager (Matthew) was born.

At 17 the Marine was born. He continued until “21”, at which point the Sargent was ‘born’. Then “24” (an adjustment in personality), then “26” (the age we were married – and found ourselves living with a woman and family – 3 kids). Then ‘I’ (M3) was ‘born’.

Last year Jeffery Thompson was born, along with Aoela, Samuel, Sarah, and Satan. We became aware of “Dad” aka “Religious Man” and “MOM”, the evil being. MOM we split into two beings; one became the insane side of her, the other (I suspect) went into the building of Aoela. Her ‘two kids’ (Samuel and Sarah) I rather suspect were built to ‘help’ her and others in my mind (playmates for Little Mikie, Little Michael, and the other little ones).

Theories, Suspicions, and Hypotheses

How the system is set up (currently working):

Sarah, Samuel, Aoela, live on the Island unless I call them up. Little Mikie often stays on the island, but he can come up on his own; however, ‘we’ have managed to ‘train’ him so he is more in line with “Little Michael” – as an attempt to ‘blend’ the two into one – a ‘real’ Little Michael. Getting ‘him’ (Little Michael) to realize he can set this ‘puppet’ down is a big thing to us at this time.

Little Michael hides a lot, but he’s ‘coming forward’ a bit more as we zoom in / hone in and quit getting tricked by him into thinking he is little Mikie or vis versa.

3 on Top, Majority Rules; the Scientists side and a lot of general knowledge is shared by all and the Recorder is bound to give certain information to all.

I suspect that Samuel & Sarah are ‘non-entities’, that is, ‘they’ were ‘sent’ or set up simply for ‘training’ our feminine side how to behave – be unlike our real human mother in some ways (no more violence, hitting, clawing . . . sigh . . . the list goes on) . . . However, if you believe in reincarnation, ‘they’ have a story to tell – and they are all ‘linked’ or tied together – D.A. Michael, Aoela, Samuel, & Sarah – listed in the order which ‘they’ appeared or emerged from the ‘system’.

An atheist would say it’s just an over-active imagination.

A spiritualist would say I’m possessed by many souls & minds.

A psychologist would say I’ve made a ‘self-adjusting system’ which is attempting to heal itself in some way.

“We” can build new alters “on-the-fly”; new ones may be emerging. A new one – or a new host – may be being ‘built’ without ‘us’ becoming aware. There appears to be other forces working inside of us of which we are unaware. Jeffery Thompson, for instance – we did not know he was there until ‘he’ just suddenly ‘appeared’. “He” is also the alter we most use for online communication. Several have been ‘hooked up’ (our creative ‘part’, for which we have no name – ‘he’ comes from the ‘core’ and is present in all of us) – to form permanent and temporary associations, such as our “Elvis” persona (which is a mixture of some more). LOL, and no, he’s not a singer at all; he’s a writer and is ‘modeled’ on Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens). And his “piano” (he ‘plays’ in an old dusty auditorium) is our keyboard. He is most apt to make some wry commentary – and ‘helps’ take care of our ‘kids’ – and has helped quite a bit in ‘us’ getting ‘their’ stories out of them.

This is the end of this current Inventory. Be aware conditions can change. Like any ‘society’, family, or group of beings, power ‘struggles’ can happen and opinions can ‘change’ as one group or another ‘takes over’ – which, by the way, makes me the most excellent devil’s advocate – since the current ‘being’ can believe and feel what he says – while the ‘rest of us’ know he’s very wrong, or is supporting an unpopular argument.

*We do many things like that – without permission or psychological clue to the hosting beings; that is, ‘we’ develop plans (some very long term ones, ranging in terms of not just years, but decades hence) and trick or force the host into them. This is a common method we learned when we were rather young. I am not certain how it came about except that it had something (perhaps) to do with my dad and his psychological experiments on us.

Follow Jeff here:-


His Book "The Boy"

Twitter @JeffsSong

Wednesday 15 August 2012

What's In A Name?

I've never really liked my first name.. Jan may be a European version of John but I was frequently teased and bullied through my school years for having a girls name. In my adult life I have had much the same. Telephone calls for me asking for Miss or Mrs Jan Frayne are common and the same happens in hospitals etc when my name is called out.

I was going to change it twenty years ago but never got round to it. I changed to Ján for my own use but frequently forget. My name is pronounced Yahn.

Jan is a variant of John in Catalan, Dutch, Scandinavian, Cornish, English, German, Afrikaans, Northern Germanic and Western Slavic Languages (in Slovak, spelled Ján), also a shortened form of Janice or Janet. It also has separate origin in Arabic.

I was named after Jan Masaryk, Czech diplomat and politician and Foreign Minister of Czechoslovakia from 1940 to 1948. I don't know why. My Mum wanted to call me Guy.

The meaning of Jan is "Chosen one of God sent from above"..

My second name is Lyndon, after the U.S president Lyndon Johnson. The meaning of Lyndon is "of linden (lime) tree hill".

My surname is Old French/Breton in origin. The French meaning is "of the ash tree" whilst the English meaning is "stranger or foreigner"

There are many anglicised versions of the name - Frayne, Frenes, Freyne, DeFrayne, Franey, Freaney, Freeney, Frain, ffrench, Ffrench, French and possibly some more. All these names are the same and have been used, changed and interchanged over the years. All are derivatives of the same name “DeFreine”. Theophilus de Freyne, third cousin to William the Conqueror rode beside his cousin at the Battle of Hastings 1066.

The DeFreines, the ffrenches, and the Frenches, who were of noble blood, came to Ireland with Strongbow during the Norman Invasion of Ireland from 1169 to 1172AD. There were and still are two or three families of Irish peers who carry the names DeFréine, ffrench, and French. As Anglo-Normans the French family became one of the 14 Tribes of Galway, helping to found the town in 1425AD, fortifying it to keep the locals out.

In Wexford the name Franey is common, In Wicklow Freeney / Freney is common and in the Connaught area (Sligo/Galway) Frain, Freine are common. The name is from the French word Frêne which means a wooded place with ash trees indicating that ancestors of that family came from an area noted for its forests. Some sources can even trace the name back to Roman times.

Having traced my family tree back to 1280 the surname has had four changes.

This post will not really be of interest to most people... Guess I'm just trying to make sense of who I am and where I come from.


Olympic champions are usually determined on the field by being, as the motto states, “Citius, Altius, Fortius”…(Faster, Higher, Stronger).
To be an Olympian and an Olympic champion is considered by most athletes to be the greatest accomplishment any sportsman can hope to attain.
At these years’ games, there were three women who were Olympic champions before the procession of countries even began at the beginning ceremonies.
Kellie Wells, Richmond, VA., Kayla Harrison, Middleton, OH., and Quanitta “Queen” Underwood, Seattle, WA., competed in 100m Hurdles, Judo and Boxing, respectively. Kellie won Bronze and Kayla won Gold but that’s not the real victory.
From east to west coast, these young women are examples that no socioeconomic status is out of the reach from the destruction that is caused by Child Sexual Abuse (CSA).
All Olympians face the same struggles: Training beyond the scope of most our understanding; Injuries that can plague or even end a career; Sacrifices made by both athletes and their families/loved ones. For these super human competitors, it’s just another day at the office.
But the obstacles that stood in front of these three Americans were different; the hurdles they had to overcome were not just 3 ½ feet high, the attacks they were defending were not just the “Tai-Otoshi” (the judo body drop), the punches they were dodging were not just a potential knockout uppercut.
No, these brave women were having a simultaneous and continual mental and emotional battle that started in childhood. Wars that began in their bedrooms and practice facilities waged not by Russians or Chinese…these came from those they trusted, respected and loved…a Coach, a Step-Father and a Dad.
The detail of their sexual abuse is not required here. What is of importance is that they survived and what we can learn from Kellie, Kayla and Queen: Their strength, courage and determination to realize their dreams in the face of real-life nightmares. Even though they had their innocence stolen and their faith betrayed – instead of giving up, they chose to turn these horrific events around and used it to fuel their Olympic ambition. And for that they will always be champions, patriots and amazing women who didn’t just survive their sexual abuse…they thrive in spite of it.

Article copyright David Pittman Together We Heal


Monday 13 August 2012

Lost #poetry

Lost in a world, that scares me to death,
Lost in a crowd, I'm losing my breath.
Lost as a boy, lost as a man,
I need to grow up, don't think I can.
Lost as a person, can't find my way.
Lost in life, every day.
Lost in worry, who am I?
All my life, I've lived a lie.

Lost to kindness, lost to love,
Lost in a sky, like a new-born dove.
Lost in thought, which I shouldn't do,
It winds me up, I can't get through.
Lost to comfort, all kind words,
Lost to advice, it isn't heard.
Lost to those who really care,
All these people, always there.
Lost in me, I need a break,
Lost in wonder, which road to take?
Lost in a place I don't know well,
Where are you now? There's no one to tell.
Lost here, all alone,
Lost apart from the mobile phone.
Lost still, there are no calls.
I'm struggling alone, to break these walls.
Lost in mind, lost in soul,
Lost memories, they're just a hole.
Lost family, lost mate,
Gone now, yet I'm full of hate.
Lost in my head, don't know night from day,
Lost right now, for what to say,
Lost in my daymares, I think I'll leave.
There's a lot in life I need to achieve.

Daniel Brown

Saturday 11 August 2012

Kirthi Jayakumar #activist via @kirthijayakumar #childabuse #abuse

Please welcome Kirthi Jayakumar to The Wounded Warrior blog.

Kirthi Jayakumar is a Lawyer, specialized in Public International Law and Human Rights. A graduate of the School of Excellence in Law, Chennai, Kirthi has diversified into Research and Writing in Public International Law, Arbitration and Human Rights. She has worked as a UN Volunteer, specializing in Human Rights research in pertinence to issues in Africa, India and Central Asia and the Middle East. Kirthi has worked extensively with grass root organizations that focus on women's rights. She also runs a journal and consultancy that focuses on International Law, called A38. Kirthi's main interests lie in International Law, International Relations, Peace and Conflict studies and Human Rights. She has also dabbled with Art and writing Short Fiction, which she showcases through her Blogs devoted to the same.

Ten years ago, a history lesson at school on the Second World War and a lost opportunity to participate in a Model UN session owing to a health setback decided the career front of the funny trajectory that is my life.
I decided I would join the United Nations.
The lure was magnetic- I would stand as a representative of my country, or of an oppressed people. I would work with grass-root organizations and proffer them the benefits of humanitarian aid and assistance. I would be their voice. I would be their advocate. I would fight for them. I would ensure they would get justice.
But I would not be an empty, jingoistic activist, I told myself. I would never, ever stand and scream hoarse saying that I wanted rights as a woman, as a member of any kind of a minority, as a victim of anything. I counted on myself as empowered, and found it ridiculous to outrageous, to hear over-the-top campaigns and cries that alleged sufferance of “deprivation” of rights. I found it stupid that actually empowered people would stand and argue in Parliaments, demanding that they be given legal rights. Blame it on my upbringing. My parents brought me up treating me as a human being. I was never deprived of anything by virtue of my gender, nor offered any special treatment owing to my gender or anything. I was normal, life was normal.
Bit by bit, I began uncovering the entire spectrum of work that had to go into making the dream real. Not meaning to forget the hurdles altogether, I’ll save them for another post on another day, and for now, focus on the things I learned so far.
Ten years later, I found myself somewhere near my goal. Without the requisite educational qualification of a Masters’ Degree, I had something like a foot in the United Nations through some volunteering opportunities. I soon grew to become part of several activist and feminist organizations that worked for women’s rights.
And that is when the true essence of feminism- the grain of true activism separated from the chaff of jingoism- smacked me hard in the face. I learned the importance and imbibed the practicality of being a feminist for the woman in need, and not for the already empowered woman in greed.
When I worked with these organizations (I still do- I love each of them, sincerely), I was just a writer. That was what I was – a meagre nerd across continents and oceans from where these organizations functioned, staring at a computer screen and churning piece after piece after piece, following copious research. What difference are you making, anyway? I’d ask. My family would ask. My friends would ask. You’re just writing. I’d tell myself. My family would tell me. My friends would tell me. Does your writing bring any justice to the ones in need? I’d ask myself. My family would ask me. My friends would ask me.
I have no idea. Does it make any difference? Did it make any difference?
To them, I don’t know. To me, it did, it does and it will always do so.
When I wrote, I narrated the stories of women in distress. I told the world of real stories, of stories that were so real, they had to be fictionalized for the world to digest, of sordid and morbid realities that could leave you shaken. I told the world of the things women went through, children went through. I told the world what it already knew- or at least, most of the world already knew.
Stories of Rape.
Sexual Harassment.
Domestic Violence.
Honour Killings.
Deprivation on gender-based grounds.
Gender-based inequality.
Foeticide. Infanticide.
And as I wrote, I grew. I grew because I didn’t just tell these stories, I felt them. I realized that what were just words for me here was the reality, the harsh truth for a woman, miles away. I realized that as much as the world was “ahead”, it was also terribly backward.
I travelled in my research. I went to war stricken Afghanistan where women bear the brunt of living a crippled life- facing domestic violence, honour killings, rape and an abject deprivation from their every right. I went to DR Congo where women still bear the brunt of Sexual Violence aplenty, and suffer indignities in the hands of the very society that should protect them. I went to different parts of India, where I learned of girl foetuses being killed in the womb because they were girls, where tribal women are forced to dance naked to be able to get a meal. I travelled to parts of the Middle East where women are the property of their men, and could even be killed or raped, with no one asking. I went to Nigeria, where girls are subjected to the harsh malpractice of genital mutilation, and their cries were too loud, that they were silent. I went to Pakistan and Palestine, where women are subjected to the awful nightmare of murder in the name of protecting their familial honour. I went to South East Asia where girls are born into brothels, and lived their lives there, without knowing that they were made slaves. I travelled to Kosovo and Houston, Texas, where their dirtiest secret is the filthy game of human trafficking has many a woman under its fold. I went to Latin America where “poverty has a woman’s face”.
I realized that in the same world where a woman had the freedom to work as an equal with a man, a woman was also subservient to a man and could not work whatsoever. I realized that in the same world where a woman had the right to be educated, a woman was also forced to give up school because her society ordained otherwise. I realized that in the same world where a woman was free to choose who she would marry and when she would marry, a woman was forced to marry a man many years older than her while she would be a mere child. I realized that in the same world where women would be respected and their honour safeguarded with dignity, a woman would also be used as a miserable sex-slave. I realized that in the same world where women would be in charge of making peace, the bodies of women would be battlegrounds where war would be waged ceaselessly, devoid of all compunction.
And then I learned more - that where for every little girl that was abused, there was also a little boy; that for every case of abuse, there was silence. So much silence, that it deafened you. I learned, quite simply, that there is something intricately linking the backbone of society and humanity. I realized that when one of those woven threads constituting the weft in the fabric is unravelled, society is crippled.
I may not be an expert. I may be far more ordinary than I know I am. I may lack expertise in totality, and “intellectually stimulating” might hardly be a justifiable title for the kind of stuff I write. But I do know one thing. I am a drop in the ocean, but a drop, nevertheless. I am one among the scores of other women who serve as a conduit between the oppressed and the outside world.
And that is why I am proud to be an activist. I may be armchair-bound for now – but I have words in tow, words that can make people realize, see, and understand. Staying silent is the biggest crime next to committing the main crime itself. I’ll talk. Will you?

Contact Kirthi via Twitter @kirthijayakumar
and her blog http://www.kirthijayakumar.blogspot.co.uk/

Friday 10 August 2012

A Non Refundable Christmas Gift #childabuse #writing via @mad_verdun

Please welcome Mary Ann Davis to the Wounded Warrior Blog.

Mary Ann has kindly allowed me to share her work. She writes extensively and further links to her writing can be found below. This is Mary Ann in her own words.

I am a survivor of multiple sexual assaults including incest and other forms of family violence. At ten years old I watched my 12 year old brother who was my best friend die in an avalanche. By the age of ten I had experienced what seemed like a lifetime of traumas. My mind shattered. I began the process of survival through years of struggling with Complex Post Traumatic Stress.

I have been a feminist activist for over 25 years. I am now 45 years old and all these years I battled with PTSD, I tried to keep it hidden for fear that I would be judged. The shame of the sexual abuse was too much, and even though I fought the lack of justice for survivors of sexual abuse, I never came out.

The time has come where I feel I need to come out as a survivor of child sexual abuse and other forms of violence. Not only do I want my survivor’s voice to be heard, but I want to encourage all survivors that have not found their voice to speak up. We hold the shame of our abusers, and it is not ours to hold. Let it go.

It all sounds quite gloomy. But in fact, I have grown to love the person I have become. I have survived the violence, but most importantly I have survived the battles of my mind. I learned to appease the sadness and anger, and channel it for good by helping others.

I have been writing since the age of 12. I usually write comical prose, stories about poetic justice and non-fiction pieces on a variety of subjects. I have only begun sending my writing out for publication. My goal is to one day publish a collection of stories about living with Complex Post Traumatic Stress. I should be writing disorder, but it is not a disorder it is a survival mechanism that helped me cope under overwhelming strain as a child and as an adult. I have a twisted sense of humour which comes out in the essays and short stories I write. This comical twist keeps me sane in light of overwhelming flashbacks that grab hold of me and try to pull me down.

Besides writing, I have a day job as a Union Representative for the CSN employees at a hospital. Fighting peoples rights has been my calling, which I have fully embraced with all the energy possible.

I live in Montreal, Quebec, Canada with my partner, Diane, of 18 years. My two loves are Dante and Guizou, my cats who try to control my life and actually succeed. I am proud of who I have become, I like being me with all my imperfections. In the great words of Oscar Wilde, “Be yourself, everyone else is taken.”

A Non Refundable Christmas Gift

Incest is the gift that keeps on giving, and Christmas reminds me of this every year by harassing me with corporate fabricated holly jollies. Furthermore, the disheartening images of the perfect nuclear family plastered on every magazine, television and store front window serve as a reminder that I am indeed marginal. I find comfort in the fact that the nuclear family, if it ever did exist at all, surely went extinct in the 1950s.
I am an incest survivor; turned into a five-year-old slut by a brother who was almost 10 years older. The abuse went on for years. He was known as a fun and generous guy, and I was fortunate enough to learn first hand just how generous he was. Tis the season of giving and sharing, and triggers that awaken my mind to memories of my brother’s selfless giving.
Most children remember reading their first book: “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” or maybe “The Cat in The Hat?” My first book was “The Joy of Sex,” and I still remember how it felt on my lap while my brother showed me the pictures of different sexual acts. I thought the Chinese people were funny, and for most of my childhood before every bath I would stand in front of a mirror with my arms extended over my head to see if I too had armpit hair.
One Christmas I received the complete recording of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer. It was narrated by the legendary Burl Ives; his velvety voice comforted and touched me with a gentleness that was un-known to me. I played it winter, spring, summer and fall, and knew every song by heart. My brother laughed and teased me, but I didn’t care because I knew that it was much better than the Jimi Hendrix he used to play over and over again. I always felt perplexed as my brother fiddled with me and Jimi Hendrix kept asking, “But first, are you experienced?”
Many times I pictured in my mind what would happen when my brother would finally be caught, and I’d be saved from my life of hell. My father would throw my brother out, and my mother would hold me tight as she whispered comforting and loving words into my ears. Life would go back to being simple and carefree, and I could again roam freely without the burden of living as a hunted animal. Not so. The end was far more traumatic than soothing. My brother was beaten, and I was punished because I should have known better than to play in my brother’s room. Silly naughty me.
I am thankful that the mind is such a well structured self-repairing mechanism. When sexual abuse starts at such a young age, the only positive point is the mind goes into survival mode, helping you by dissociating yourself from the overwhelming strain. No matter the beatings, no matter the pain my dissociation always ensured that I survived. Children who are victims of incest are like little warriors fighting a valiant battle for survival; because a child is being raped repeatedly also believes they will die. In the case of incest, when the sexual abuse ends the child is then forced into a continual relationship with the abuser. My predator happened to live two rooms away from me.
I have a family I love and somewhere I know they love me. But they are unable to deal with what I went through as a child. Incest is a dirty secret, and most families go to great lengths to keep it just that, a secret. In my case, family members witnessed the abuse directly and some indirectly, and because they were unable to face it, they chose to do nothing. How many times have I heard, “Ah, Mary Ann, you were always everyone’s favourite.” Oh happy lucky me, and could you imagine if I had not been the favourite one? In hindsight, I would have preferred not to have been their favoured sacrificial lamb in their ceremonial dysfunctional dance.
My brother and I have not spoken or had any contact since 2002. Three years ago I confronted the whole family about the abuse. In my naïve mind, I thought they would all stand up for me and send him flying to the other end of the universe. But no, they decided it was a conflict that affected only the two of us, and therefore a mistake due in part to his youth, hence there was no need to drag the whole sordid story on.
As a survivor I have gone through life with a dagger driven through my heart. Every so often when I move and the pain paralyzes me, it acts as a constant reminder. Then comes the secret you hold, and the family who would prefer killing your psyche slowly to letting you divulge this information. You are alone as you are being raped, and then you are abandoned by those who should have protected you in the first place. The gift that keeps on giving are the families of incest survivors who, for the sake of not rocking the boat, will gladly throw you to the sharks.
I have recently realized that in the spectrum of normality, it is an unremitting fact that incest survivors are commonly abandoned by their families. All too sadly, the closer the relative is to the victim the more chances they have of being turned into shark food. Since learning that I am normal, it has been easier for me to focus on my own life. This is my third Christmas without them, and as Gloria Gaynor says, “I will survive.” My life is slowly turning around, and with every new day I am becoming more human and less angry. Granted, I have tons to be angry about, and there are days that I want to explode and just yell and yell and hope that someone will understand. When the loneliness hits and I realize that all I have is my partner, those are the days when I feel myself crumbling away. I am moody and sad, but usually within a few days I am able to pick myself up again and move on.
So in this high time of Yule-tides, Silent Nights and busy sidewalks, I feel a need to toast my newfound life. Let’s crack open a bottle of that bubbly, and raise our glasses. Here is a toast to that rocky train ride that brought me here. To the survivors of incest who have grown up to become big warriors and continue to fight battles every day, but are forgotten at this time of year. To those of us who will watch It’s a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol alone. We have the couch to ourselves, the quietness of our homes, our partners and animals who love us; and the feeling that we are safe and sound in our homes behind doors that we ourselves have locked. God rest ye, Merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay…

Mary Ann writes extensivly. More of her writing can be found via the links below.




Contact her via Twitter @mad_verdun or davis.maj@gmail.com

Thursday 9 August 2012

How To Stop Child Sexual Abuse.Via @Together_WeHeal #childabuse #stopchildabuse

I would like to introduce you to David Pittman from Together We Heal.

David has kindly let me share this recent article. Together We Heal is for those who have suffered the trauma of CSA. We are survivors! Provide a safe forum, educate those who seek info and expose the predators.

How To Stop Child Sexual Abuse.

Based on an article I read from Cynthia Bland of the group Voicefound.ca, I want to expand on their points and share with you what our children are depending on us to do – How To Stop Child Sexual Abuse.

As I have told you in previous articles, the statistics of child sexual abuse (CSA) are beyond the pale – 1 in 6 boys and 1 in 3 girls are sexually assaulted by the age of 18. As I have also written, "stranger danger is a myth". It's not the unknown that our children have to be leery, it's the ones we know best; our clergy, teachers, caregivers and yes, even family members – they are the ones that are ALMOST ALWAYS guilty of stealing the innocence of our children. The statistics vary, but not by much, somewhere in the neighborhood of 90-95% of all CSA transgressions are by those we KNOW and TRUST. That's right, the ones that molest, rape, sodomize and abuse our children are NOT strangers…they are our pastors, our 5th grade teachers, our fathers and aunts, and even sometimes they are the child down the street that plays with our kids. I recently read an article about an 8 yr. old molesting a 7 yr. old that lived just two doors down – a trusted neighborhood child.

As a survivor of sexual abuse by a member of the clergy, I know all too well how this trust is built up and then destroyed. It's called "grooming" but the bottom line, it's how these trusted ones get inside the psyche of a child and use their authority over them to sexually and psychologically control them, as my youth minister did me. Its why the vast majority, like myself, are unable to speak out against these predators until it's too late, until the statute of limitations has passed and they can no longer be held legally responsible. It is for this reason that we as adults are now held to a higher standard to protect our children. They cannot protect or speak out for themselves, so we have got to.

Here is what we CAN and MUST do to protect our children:

1) Learn the Facts
Stranger Danger is a myth – Learn the facts about CSA. Realities, Not Trust, Should Influence Your Decisions Regarding Children.

2) Minimize Opportunity
If you eliminate or reduce one-adult/one-child situations, you'll dramatically lower the risk of sexual abuse for children.

3) Talk About It
Children Often Keep Abuse a Secret, but Barriers Can Be Broken Down by Talking Openly.

4) Stay Alert
Don't Expect Obvious Signs When a Child is Being Sexually Abused. Signs Are Often There But You've Got to Spot Them. You also need to have good relationships with coaches, teachers, etc., so you can find out what they know.

5) Make a Plan
Learn Where to Go, Whom to Call, and How to React. Find the resources that will give you the tools you need to help you and your child.

6) Act on Suspicions
Pay attention to that "little voice". If something doesn't seem right, it probably isn't.

7) Get Involved
Volunteer and financially support organizations such as "Voice Found", "Together We Heal" and "Beyond Survivor" that work to prevent childhood sexual abuse and help those who have already suffered the trauma to heal.

It is only by working together can we help prevent CSA. Don't be afraid to reach out and ask questions. If you don't learn how to protect your children, then who will?

More articles from Together We Heal can be found here:-


Together We Heal is for those who have suffered the trauma of child molestation. We are here to give aid to those in need, educate any who seek info and expose the predators and their methods.

There is a real need to change statute of limitation laws on child molestation and abuse. We are here to help promote that change and provide a safe forum for victims of abuse to share, learn and heal.

"One person cannot change the world, but you can change the world of one person" - Help us do just that.....

Please follow us on Twitter @Together_WeHeal

Tuesday 7 August 2012

New Directions & New Horizons

Its been over a year since I began blogging seriously. A year of change in many ways, a year of revelations and a year of knowledge.

I'm very proud of this blog. It has become a resource to others as well as being my place to share my experiences, introduce survivor friends to my audience and have the occasional rant!

It seems to me that it needs a "house keeper" though! I'm not known for my neatness and I would like to appeal for help in better organising this blog thereby making it easier for others to navigate. I like the Blogger interface but I'm prepared to move the blog if it makes life easier. I welcome your input on this.

I recently tweeted that I'm looking for new guest bloggers for this site. I've had three submissions to date. I'm looking for guest posts on the following topics.

Child Abuse
Male Survivors
Alt Therapy
Coping skills
Survivor Poetry

Please contact me through this blog or via Twitter @Beyond_Survivor if you are interested.

Any length of post is fine and it can be anonymous if required.

The Olympics are still going strong as I write this. It seems to be that many survivors and advocates I have come to know this last year deserve medals too! To survive childhood sexual abuse in an achievement in itself. My friends, you are all champions to me. Thank you.

I try and keep my blog roll and suggested sites list up to date. If you would like to be included please let me know.

Thank you again for taking time out of your lives to read this blog and for the amazing support you give me.

Sunday 5 August 2012

Forgiveness and Punishment #childabuse #survivor

I've been privileged over the last year to "meet" many survivors of various forms of abuse. Survivors are a special kind of people. We have endured, we have come through the storms and we have lived to tell the tale. We are all different. We have dealt with what happened to us in our own unique ways. Many, if not most of us, will share various "symptoms" or "aftereffects" of what was done to us. That does not mean we can all heal in the same way.

Countless times I've been told I cannot heal unless I forgive those that trespassed against my person. Why? I've forgiven myself and that is the only forgiveness I intend to dish out. Maybe forgiving helps others, but I know that it does not help all.  Belief in God is not the only way to healing either. One thing annoys me above all others and that is being told the only road to healing is through religion. 

How I cope, how I move forward and how I heal will be based on my own terms. This should go for all of us.  I will not be forced to do anything against my free will ever again.

I've been asked countless times if given the chance would I press charges against those that abused, molested and raped me. YES I would! Fortunately for them I think they are all dead. 

I used to encourage others in the same way, but much earlier this year got chatting with a lady who made me see otherwise. It has to be the choice of the victim.  Trying to force a survivor to press charges is not the way to help them.  Being abused takes away our choices. It must be up to each individual how they decide to proceed. I believe the therapy process and time may well lead to the same result. 

I fully understand that not pressing charges leaves the abuser free to do whatever he or she wants. I am totally aware that others might well be abused because of the choices made by the victims. I do not condone this but I also think it wrong to force someone who has endured abuse to take the step if they are not ready. Each situation will be different and everything must be done to allow victims to make their own decisions, in their own time.

Most sentencing for those very few abusers that get to court is too lenient. Until the justice system comes down fully on the side of the victims and properly punishes those that deserve it I feel many victims will not want to press charges. There also needs to be much stronger protection for the abused post legal process.

Going though the legal process can and does tear families and lives apart.  This is something else the victim has to deal with on top of reliving the abuse and facing the abuser across a court room. 

I'm not a therapist. I have no training in dealing with people other than what my own life has taught me.  Some say that this is better grounding for working with victims of abuse than obtaining qualifications. Sometimes I worry that a little knowledge may be dangerous. I give advice and opinion only. I know what works for me and have also experienced what works for others.  I also think it is wrong of me to try and help others when my own road is still rocky.  This road though is paved with a lifetime of experience and each lump, bump, bend and twist has taught me a great deal. 

I hope it is not wrong of me to want to pass on what I have learnt.

Friday 3 August 2012

Introducing Zizi Mpuku #Poet #Lyricist #Rape #Survivor

My name is Zizi Mpuku a 26 year old woman from South Africa.

At 16 I was gang raped twice and the trauma of it all has left me damaged inside and outside.

I suffer from Depression but after each and every painful tear I always find a reason to smile and care. Mentally and emotionally I'm messed up but by God's grace I know it will all get better with time.

I don't have the passion and the drive for writing anymore and I want it back with all my heart. I want my intelligence back and I want my God given gift back.

I'm a song and poetry writer and one day I'd also love to write a biography. I pray you'll like my poetry and understand that most of it was written while I was still in a very dark place.

Heartless Heart

What kind of heart has no shame, feels no pain, craves no gain, shares no care, is not fair?
What kind of heart is speechless, hopeless, careless, useless, helpless?
Forgive me you for I have sinned. Forgive me you for I have killed. Not by the hand nor by the heart. But by my deeds, my thoughts and my sayings.
Forgive me you for I am heartless.

What kind of heart does not bleed, does not weep, does not feed, does not feel, does not heal?
What kind of heart does not laugh, does not smile, gives no love, knows no law, hears no call?
Forgive me you for I have mastered the laws of matrimony.
Forgive me you for I cannot give any testimony.
Not by the eyes, the ears, the mouth, the heart, the soul, but by my scars inside, outside and all over.

Forgive me you for I cannot forget. Forgive me you for I can never forgive. Forgive me you for I have a heartless heart.

Written at 17

It Was Raining The Night They Came

It was raining the night they came. People were locked inside their homes safe n sound.
The sun had disappeared so fast as if it would never be found.
Back then I thought I was a princess even though I'd never been crowned.
Little did I know that all my pride and joy would be drowned.
Never in my life will I forget how It was raining the night they came.

Rain, how I used to praise you, how I used to fall asleep at the sound of your song. How I despise you now, how I don't trust the sound of your song, how I'm always listening for the other sound behind yours.

It was raining the night they came.
If only night had never come.
I would now know how to stay calm.
Life would still be in the middle of my palm.
How I've been dying to tell someone how it was raining the night they came.

Rain, how you broke your promise of protection and peace to me, how you camouflaged them n left me bare to their vision, how I don't trust u anymore, how I'm always peeping through windows to see what you're hiding behind your song.

It was raining the night they came.
When they stripped me of my pride and left me in embarrassment.
When they made sure all they would give me would be harassment.
When without any crime they left me with punishment.
How I'm dying to show someone one day, how it was raining the night they came.
(Written at 21).

Wednesday 1 August 2012

Interview with Steve Executive Director of 1in6.org,

Courage Network interviews Steve L, executive director of 1in6.org, an organization providing resources and support for male survivors of sexual abuse and assault. Steve discusses the programs that 1in6 provides, stigmas surrounding male abuse, why this issue affects all of society and the process of resiliency. Male abuse survivors do not have to feel alone and can have Courage, Hope and Strength as Steve will explain in this uplifting discussion.


Support for Male Survivors of Sexual Abuse

Myths - Sexual Abuse of Boys #video #childabuse

Stephen Braveman addresses some of the common misconceptions regarding the sexual abuse of boys.


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