Wow and way cool, Evangelista about college/high school.

I so know what you mean about pics. The pic I have here? It's one of the RARE pics that feels like "me". I've always known that and mostly refuse to have my picture taken. I'd always tried to explain that to t, and finally took in some pictures and showed him which was me (all of one). The rest didn't feel like me at all, though I knew intellectually that they were.

The earliest memory I have of dissociating and knowing something was up was when I was 6/7 (there again I know age because we lived in DC at the time. It wasn't long after seeing the person who was "no longer here" on the street.

I don't remember school at all, but apparently I got into big trouble at school for skipping (remember I was tiny -- skipping school?) Anyhow, I don't remember leaving school. I don't remember getting in trouble with teacher and principal at school. I woke up when I got home and was being accused. I denied vehemently, and parents opened lunch box and therein was the candy purchased when I'd gone out into the city and went to a store apparently. Not only did I skip school. Did I steal the candy as well???

This was particularly dangerous, because this was a horrible area. In fact, we got a humanitarian transfer out of there. I still have none of that. I remember the absolute shock and fear of that stuff being in lunch box. HOw did it get there? Why was someone doing this to me???

Needless to say, I did get into trouble.

I think I was already pre-disposed to dissociation due to the fear of death (from father in war, seeing and knowing those whose fathers died, seeing it on t.v. and knowing father was there, etc.) I was afraid and worried about death starting at about age late 4, early 5. Then seeing the person on the street kicked it in more. After that, the fear of my own death in the same manner because of what was going on to me and having to walk past that area every day to school (only to get to school and deal with more physical/emotional abuse from prejudice and anger) began the other "me's" who didn't have the same fears. Starting at age six there was no safe place for me...not school, not home. I guess I found safety somewhere in mind. As I got older, I got more creative to recognize and find various forms of feeling safe.

As the abuses continued, changed and grew, so did my mind...

KD