This isn't an easy story to hear. It contains a lot of sorrow and pain but stick with me, it's a story with a happy ending. Don't worry that knowing the ending will spoil the story for you because the real story is in the journey.
      I thought I had a pretty normal life growing up in a small town in Michigan. My family had their problems. My older sister was in a car accident when she was 21. (She was 10 years older than me.) Doctors thought she wouldn't live through the night ,but after 3 weeks in a coma she was left handicapped.  Unknown to me at the time she also had Multiple Personality Disorder, as it was called back then. Life with her was a challenge to say the least.
      My youngest brother ( He was 3 years older. I was the baby.) had major personality problems. There was often a lot of tension in our house because he was frequently in trouble.
      My dad drank and was mean and crabby. I remember his routine. Go to work. Come home and have some beer. Dinner had to be on the table at 5:00 and there better not be any phone calls while we were eating. After he ate he laid down for a nap. He got up about 8:30. Drank more beer and watched TV till bedtime. What a life. I never liked him very much and I don't remember feeling much guilt for telling him I hated him when I was a teenager.
      On the other hand I loved my mom so much I felt terror and panic at the thought of something happening to her. Even though she and my dad argued a lot and she had a tendency to be controlling, in my eyes she could do no wrong. When my mom and dad argued I always took her side . They argued a lot. About money, sex and my brother and sister, but mostly about my dad's drinking. Sometimes they even got physically abusive with each other. I really hated him then. Yes, we had our problems, but doesn't everyone?
      We also had good times. My oldest brother like myself appeared pretty normal. I don't have a lot of memories of him but I loved him dearly and I remember feeling safer with him than with any other man in my life until I married my husband.
      We had some great family vacations, summer days at the lake and marathon shopping trips with my mom where we seemed more like friends than mother and daughter. I had a beautiful church wedding and a happy marriage and family. Life seemed pretty good except for some reoccurring depression. I felt baffled about that because it looked like I had the ideal life.
      I went to work as a nurse for a caring, compassionate Hospice. It was one of the most fulfilling jobs I had ever had. I loved the way they encouraged me to care for the whole patient, physically emotionally, mentally and spiritually as well as their family. And they cared for their employees the same way. While I was working for Hospice my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. To this day I don't know what my boss saw that alerted her  that I was not handling my mothers breast cancer well. She lovingly sent me to the hospice social worker for grief counseling. That's when the nightmare began. Memories I had repressed flooded forward, They were  terrible memories I would experience with my entire body. Memories of horrible abuse. There were hundreds of them. I remember men my dad knew molesting me and then skinning my live pet rabbit in front of me and telling me If I told they would do the same thing to me, they would Start at my toes and pull my skin off me inside out.
      Men smeared feces over my naked body and told me I wasn't worth sh-t.
      My dad beating my head against a wall because I couldn't understand my math homework. As my head hit the wall he kept repeating "Your just too stupid and dumb and ugly". to the rhythm  of my head hitting the wall. I was forced to drink urine and blood and eat raw liver and I knew I'd better not throw up! As I recalled each event I relived the physical and emotional pain. I felt the terror, shame and humiliation all over again as if I was living it for the first time. I smelled the odors and heard the sounds. I could hear the high pitched squeal the rabbit made as they tore the skin off. I would cry out in pain or crawl into a corner and cower in fear until the memory subsided. It was so intense it was like I was going through it unaware of my surroundings or who was in the room. This is a common event in abuse survivors. It's called a flashback.
      The spiritual abuse was every bit as bad as  the sexual abuse and torture. My father forced me to have oral sex with him as he sang the hymn In the Garden. It still breaks my heart when I think about the sacrilegious and painful things they did with a crucifix while singing The Old Rugged Cross. It's no wonder that during my recovery church had the potential to be intensely difficult. There were times when it was a battle to stay in church and times when I couldn't find the strength to stay. My church family had no idea how extreme the warfare was and sometimes were very discouraging when they would indicate the enemy had won if I left. I would feel defeated. But leaving did not signal defeat it just meant I needed  a safe place to recharge for the next battle. I had to learn my limits and realize people didn't have all the information they needed to make that call. The majority of my church family was very supportive and tried hard to understand. I am so thankful that they have been part of my life.
      The intent behind my abuse was not just to satisfy perverted sexual desires. The intent was to destroy my mind and spirit. But God had a different idea and He is so much greater.
      I struggled with the reality of it all. The loss of my childhood as I had known it and the loss of my life as it was. The realization that most of my life had been a lie hit me like a brick wall. I withdrew and isolated myself in my room away from everyone and even though I had a wonderful husband and 3 great children they could only go along for the nightmarish ride. Even curled between the wall and the bed in my room I didn't feel safe.
      I never knew what would trigger a flashback. One time I was preparing dinner and the bone in the chicken leg was broken and I was forced to retreat from the kitchen. I stopped cooking for a long time. The job fell to my 12 year old daughter and 15 year old son. Anxiety attacks and sleepless nights became the norm as I sank deeper into depression. Depression led to suicide attempts and hospitalizations and many, many hours of therapy. While I was blessed to have wonderful counselors, the work was very difficult. At times it was excruciatingly painful and there were many times I wanted out! And I'm sure my family did to. I can't tell you how strong the desire was to die. I felt like I was in a deep, deep , very dark pit and I couldn't believe there would ever be a way out. And there was no one who could shine a light in or show me the way out. As I think back on it I shudder to remember how awful it was and I rejoice and marvel at how far I've come. I didn't realize at the time I had been programmed by my abusers to kill myself for a variety of reasons. Not that the abuse itself wouldn't have made me feel suicidal. Sometimes it's hard for people to understand that abuse can affect almost every area of your life. When a child is treated like they are not valued they think that's the truth. They learn the lie that they are worthless and nothing they do seems of value. Living seems useless and not worth the fight it takes to survive. Add to that the fact that I had been programmed to kill myself if I told, if I started to get better or if I didn't rededicate myself to Satan on my Birthday and many other reasons and perhaps you can imagine the intensity of my struggle.
      It was starting to seem like the journey was endless when I was led to yet another  therapist who changed everything and aimed me in a direction that would speed up my recovery.( Each counselor and doctor I saw along the way changed something in me and I believe I needed each one to complete the healing process.)
      Katsey introduced me to Theophostic Ministry. This is therapy based on the belief that a persons emotional pain is a result of believing lies (misinterpretations) lodged in memory state. The key to it's effectiveness is it's ability to quickly identify the original lie and lead the person to a place where he or she can understand the freeing truth.
      It is not the only form of therapy she used but it proved to be very powerful and effective. It eliminates the need to go over a memory repeatedly because once you identify the lie and understand the truth, the memory is healed permanently. Walking through the memories was difficult work but Theophostic Ministry along with Inner Healing accelerated my healing process. www.theophostic.com, www.christianhealingministries.net.
      Not long after I met Katsey  she gently approached me with the diagnosis of Disassociate Identity Disorder or DID. DID used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder. Not to be confused with schizophrenia. It is a remarkable coping  technique that is developed when someone ( usually a child under 9 years old.) experiences an extreme trauma ( usually repeatedly) that the mind cannot cope with or process. Part of the mind turns off and another part develops skills it needs to survive. Someone described it as leaving  the situation and letting the horror happen to someone else better able to deal with it. Everyone dissociates. It's normal. We space out while driving a car and call it highway hypnosis or we simply loose track of time by daydreaming. DID is on the other end of the continuum. When you think of what the mind needs to learn ,it is miraculous to say the least. It only becomes a disorder when it is no longer needed for the person to endure the trauma. Over time someone who has been repeatedly assaulted,    will automatically use defensive dissociation whenever they feel threatened or anxious and develop separate entities or mental states. These are referred to as alters and changing between them is called switching. Obviously everyone who is abused does not develop DID, but those who do should try to appreciate the skill that helped them survive and honor it. The important thing is that you are alive and there is a reason for  the fact that you did not die. I'm glad your alive! I can understand that you  may not share that joy, but trust me as you walk through the healing process  the feeling of wanting to die will become less and less.
      Back in the early 1970's when it was still called Multiple Personality Disorder my sister had been diagnosis with the disorder and I mistakenly thought it was caused from her auto accident and resulting head injury. I would later learn that she had been terribly abused and  I felt terrible regret that I assumed her accusations of my dad sexually abusing her were a result of her often outrageous behavior. I did not understand anything about DID or alters at the time. She would call me on the phone in the middle of the night and cuss me out and the next time she saw me she would act like nothing had happened. It would infuriate me because I thought she just didn't want to apologize but in reality, she had no memory of it. It was an alter. Now I understand. My daughter broke her arm 3 times in one year. I took her to the doctor each time. I have no memory of it. I remember very little of my sons graduation from high school. I lost years of my life and my family's life switching in and out of alters.
      My diagnosis was hard to comprehend and accept. I went in and out of denial for a while. Katsey gave me plenty of time to process the information and never argued when I would come up with excuses about why it wasn't possible. Many of the things I had to talk about must have been terribly offensive to hear, but she evoked so much trust that there was little I couldn't tell her. Sometimes I would step out of a flashback just enough to hear her quietly praying. Something I had asked her to do. (f she ever judged me in a negative way I never felt it.   She was an answer to many years of prayer. Her skill, support, correct diagnosis and Theophostic Therapy caused  the journey toward healing to move much faster.
      I discovered many alters from a terrified little girl to a defensive, self protecting, sometimes vulgar person named Survivor. During one session while employing Theophostic, a familiar memory came to mind. I was about 3 years old and in a dark damp cement basement encircled by men who took turns masturbating on me. I had remembered this part of the memory many times before but this time I allowed the Holy Spirit to lead me into the memory. As I turned my head to the left I saw a manifestation of Jesus standing outside the circle of men. I was filled with peacefulness as I realized the significance of what I was seeing. Even though men were using their free will in such a repulsive way Jesus left the beauty of heaven and put himself in that ugly environment to be with me! No wonder that throughout my life no matter what people did to me I kept believing in him. Kept loving him. Because when I was 3, he first loved me. (Actually he loved me long before that. It just became more real to me at 3.) Healing continued. Life was hard, but knowing God loved me gave me what I needed to go on. I knew He had been with me throughout my life, through the abuse  and He would continue with me through the rest of the healing process.
      About 4 years after the diagnosis of DID I was visiting my daughters church. It was built on the same property a barn had been on where I was frequently taken and abused. I had always felt a certain bond with this church. Her Pastor told me I was an insult to Satan (I never capitalize his name. He doesn't deserve that much power.) every time I entered the church. When I was there the spiritual warfare was always intense and exhausting.   On this evening there was a guest minister there for the first time. I don't remember what he talked about. I was focused on the work God was doing in me. I thanked Him, praised Him and surrendered everything to Him. I was lying on the floor in the isle, face down, praying and surrendering when I had a visual image of uniquely shaped individual pieces of glass inside me fitting together and forming a one piece round globe. It was a representation God was using to help me picture my complete healing. My wholeness. I ran to the front of the church and made eye contact with the minister. I pointed at him and said, I want you to pray for me NOW! (He already had people up at the front praying with them,) He placed his hand on my head and said, Because you ran down here and asked for prayer, I have set you free even right now says the Lord.  That was it! I was no longer fragmented .  God used a man from half way around the world on the same property where Satan would have destroyed me  to supernaturally bring about my complete healing.  I felt so much joy it was hard to contain or  express. I could feel a difference. But, would it last? It not only lasted but I was healed in areas I didn't even realize would be affected. I relaxed. I let go of things I had been trying to control. I felt so free.
      I have no doubt that God could have healed me in the blink of an eye but for whatever reason He chose to walk me through a healing process that lasted 14 years. I learned so much from that journey. I know that He walked every step of the way with me. He arranged each doctor, every hospitalization and each social worker into the perfect timing to make me whole. I didn't always like His timing or the painful method required, but I trust that He knew what was best and HE stayed with me through it all. Maybe He did it for you, so that you would read this and know you are not alone. Maybe He wanted to teach me compassion so I could understand what you've been through. Whatever the reason, I know without a doubt that I'm glad He did. You may know logically that God loves everyone, but you don't believe in your heart that He really feels that  way about you. I knew it was true for everyone except me. Then He showed me that at age 3, before I was old enough to do anything for Him, He was there for me and He kept me alive all those years so I could tell you that He loves you  as well. And if you don't know it He was always with you to.
      My healing is complete but my walk with Him is not. I feel like a computer with a new hard drive but I'm still downloading new information. My heart aches for those who are still hurting. This website is my attempt to help. Let me know if it does.