Melanie's Story

I guess my story starts with a mother who had no idea of how to be a mother. She neglected, as well as endangered, me. When I was a child, my family was a poster child for the insanity of substance abuse. My father was and is a practicing alcoholic. My mother was a social drinker, and an extreme co-dependant. Dad is a musician and in my younger years played the bar scenes a whole lot. Mom would go with him and leave me with her biological brother which seemed odd to me later because she was adopted by her great aunt.

Anyway, my sexual abuse trauma began at the age of 4, I believe, as that is the age of Jennifer, one of my alters. I have D.I.D (dissociative identity disorder). The sexual trauma was, to the best of my knowledge, by my uncle I was left with. At the age of 8, my parents decided to divorce and my father abandoned us. This was the year of my most prominent memory of sexual abuse. This was the year it stopped.

I was laying on the couch in my uncle's home during one of the nights I was left with him. I was crying for my father to come home. I remember crying, sobbing aloud, catching the attention of my uncle. He came to me and lay behind me on the couch in the guise of comforting me. He bgan to rub my body gently, soon finding his way up the back of my shirt, around to my chest, and roaming around to find the way between my thighs. I felt so afraid and so disgusted, I just knew I couldn't do this, that it was wrong as well as uncomfortable. I got up and somehow found the strength to say no. I got onto the floor and buried myself in my sleeping bag, and I was left alone to never be touched by him again.

Soon my mother was dating various men, many abusive, one in particular enjoyed inflicting pain on me in any way. Finally she married my stepfather, who was an addict as well. He inflicted physical as well as emotional abuse on me. He liked to call me a bitch and a cunt. Around the age of 14, I called my grandmother a bitch and when my stepfather got home, he chased me into the basement, into my sister's room, and beat my head agains teh wall, causing a severe headache.

There were other times, but that was the most severe. Even though he was abusive, he was more stable than any other men I had ever known, so I loved him. Later, he took responsibility for his life and his abuses of me. He made ammends to me. I late became a drug user, and I have spent 10 years in and out of the mental health system, with severe depression as well as hallucinations, body memories, and general disorganization. I have exhibited major signs of mental illness, but I've only been treated for minor depression. I was hyper sexual and sought out ways to hurt other people, mainly males.

I was involved with the occult at one time, and jumped to five different religions. AT 18, I settled down into a marriage and my first daughter. My husband joined the military and we moved away. That was when the disorganization started to effect the people most important to me.

I was hospitalized 2 times in a three-year period, and I was in therapy a few times. I had my second daughter between those hospital stays. After the second hospital (which was actually my 6th time during my life all for major depression), I met a great therapist. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder in the hospital. After 8 months with this therapist she discovered I had D.I.D. After this my husband was discharged from the army because of my illness.

During my therapy, I attempted to stab my husband. I really have been lucky to have him, as he has been with me through thick and thin. We moved back to our home state, and I avoided therapy until I felt another crisis coming on. So I went back into therapy. Soon afer, we moved out of the state again. So I found another therapist and am currently learning about my problems as well as dealing with the memories that keep flooding back.

This is where I am, and it is all so new to me and confusing. I just hope to live through it. Thanks for taking the time to hear me. I seem to get from complete strangers the things I should have gotten from my own parents: attention as well as acceptance.

Please e-mail Melanie at

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