by Samantha Pratt-Tyler

Created on: February 04, 2008

As a child I remember dissociating and I remember a closet full of toys and playing with them, except they never existed but I was put in that closet. I remember being told I was a liar and knowing I was not guilty of what I was being accused. I heard voices in my head, I thought it was normal, that maybe it was me talking to me. How little did I know....

My childhood is full of holes as well as my adult life. I could not do a time line of my life for I have too much I can not fill in. I do know I am a survivor of incest, multiple rapes, domestic violence, and physical, mental, spiritual and verbal abuse by those who said they loved me. How can anyone consider such actions love? It is enough to make one "crazy" to live through it to find a way to justify such love. For it is not love, and as a child who goes through the fondling of a father and cousin, who has a mother who is oblivious to what is going on in front of her, or chooses to be, it leaves that child alone, unprotected and scared.

As I got older things were what I can only describe as "odd" or "weird" because my version of reality did not fit the reality of others. I was told I did or said something I had no recollection of saying. Being in places I don't remember being. My lapses in time loss where I knew I had a problem is a house we lived in when I was about 8-10 years old. I know where the house is, I know we lived there because we have photos of being there, holding a birthday party for my dad and his twin sister there, but I have no memory of any of it; the pictures speak a truth I can not grasp, I have drove by the house sat in front of it and hoped something would come to me but blank. Two years of my life gone, what went on? Nothing made sense.

As I got older, I became a clothes horse, but when I really looked at my wardrobe it was like 3 different people bought the clothes and the makeup I would wear, and as I would come to find out, it was 3 different people. You see, I have multiple personality disorder, which is now called dissociation identity disorder. I would buy clothes, my teenager, and my professional self would buy clothes, hence three different types of clothing and a lot of clothes.

I have 2 young ones, a protector, a teenager, a "mirror image of me" but organized, together and very professional, a Christian role model that keeps me on my toes, and one that deals with anger (anger, loud noises, yelling, scare me even if it is my own)and each one has their own language, way to

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