By Nicole Hilton, Tuesday January 7, 2020
The dark side uses traumatic abuse to shatter our spirit and destroy our self-worth. Once broken, we are taught a barrage of emotions and behavioral responses intended to reinforce the victim’s spiral into social isolation and self-loathing.
When a little girl or boy goes through major trauma, and they dissociate, there is always going to be a part of them that they carry tucked deep down, from that time henceforth, which is in a state of fear and trauma. (That is, until they heal that part of themselves.) Generally, that part is kept under wraps, so that their core personality can continue on normally. Sometimes, though, those traumatized pieces rise up and can make life very difficult for the person and their loved ones.
We should remember that that part—the part that took in all of the abuse and is constantly fearful and traumatized—is the strong one. I have had to learn to recognize that. When those parts of me have come out that are anxious about everything, that attack others, that don’t know how to navigate social situations, etc., my boyfriend JJ has literally honored her—even when she is insulting him out of her fear of relationships or fear of hidden things being exposed. This honoring—this love—has taught me—the core personality, by example to love and honor the rest of me, too.
This has helped to heal me.
I wish I had known this, or had a mentor who knew this back in second grade when I first began splitting. But all I had were the adults and peers around me who were alternatively shocked, scared, threatened, bewildered, and angry at my behavior. The shaming I received from family and friends only deepened the cycle of self-loathing begun by the original abuse I received.
One of my first memories associated with the fallout from the Satanic Abuse and subsequent Dissociative Identity Disorder—besides the one where I was laughing and then crying uncontrollably in class—was when I recognized that my odd hysterical/sobbing behavior was scaring off my classmates from being friends with me.
There are always multiple factors working against every victim of abuse. Satan uses the reactions of others to pile on the shame and isolation to make life a living hell for the victim. And why does Satan do this? Well…because these kids are special. They are sensitive, they’ve got gifts, and they’ve got something in them that can help the world in some way. The veil is thin for them, increasing their spiritual gifts but making them extra vulnerable to Satan’s spiritual abuse. No wonder they are Satan’s top targets. He is going to focus a significant proportion of his weapons and henchmen on these gifted but vulnerable sons and daughters of God. He must neutralize, invalidate, and undermine their strengths–making it almost impossible for them to fulfill their earthly missions.
Take the simple and righteous goal of making friends, in my case. There were multiple factors Satan had arranged against me:
- As a little seven-year old, I had yet to learn how to shove down my emotions. I wore them all on my sleeve. But with how expressive and sensitive I already was, with a recent but deeply suppressed rape, my bipolar emotions erupted uncontrollably, scaring away everyone who may have mattered to me. I’d be laughing one moment, hitting someone in anger the next, then sobbing the next.
- I had negative programming instilled in me from the time of my first spiritual attacks. For every healthy virtue—such as being able to make friends—Satan installed the opposite in my subconscious like a computer virus. These tapes ran through my head: “No one wants to be friends with you,” “You aren’t fun enough to be friends with,” “No one likes you,” and “It’s best to go it alone; that’s the kind of hero I am.” Of course, I was also programmed to only notice the negative reinforcement around me, never the positive.
- The dissociation created detachment and severe isolation. As each day wore on and became worse and worse, I became better at dissociating. I started to live in a kind of amnesia dream. I was eventually able to connect with some kids my age, but then things would happen—like when in 6th grade, I suddenly forgot everything I’d ever learned about my then-current best friend. I was in a panic. We’d known each other for months, yet I knew nothing about her—just her face. I had to fake being her best friend until I relearned everything about her. Because of dissociation, it was very hard to remember my peers and the details of the conversations we’d have. It still is to this day.
- Living in a constant state of stress and fear hampers the mind’s ability to learn. When you are living with this level of stress, you are in survival mode, and flight or fight syndrome can kick in at any time. The mind cannot learn properly while in this state, and my social skills began to lag behind my peers. DID inevitably leads to social choices and behaviors meant to isolate the victim, who is already starving for approval and affirmation. When I noticed that my social skills weren’t matching up with my peers, I tried (and failed) to catch up with them by overreacting and overreaching. After these backfired, my isolation deepened and became a part of my broken identity.
Let me share an experience which illustrates all of these factors working together for the worst.
I remember standing there on the black pavement behind the elementary school in my jelly shoes, watching others playing hopscotch. I couldn’t remember who they were, although they were all in my class, and I knew that I had learned their names and interacted with each of them multiple times. As I stood there, I felt an overwhelming sense of shame at my failing memory. I felt like crying, and I longed to be part of the game. I wanted to laugh like that blonde girl, or know how to tease the others like the girl with the brunette pigtails. But I didn’t know how, and no one was looking at me or paying me any attention. There was no one to teach me. So…I simply stood there, watching them and feeling like I was a ghost.
The voice entered my head, a voice which said emphatically, no one likes you. No one wants to include you…that’s because everyone hates you. I fought against this voice, but it had been reinforced with painful experiences in the months previously. And I had been shattered inside since that strange time…the time with the bruises on my body and when it was hard to go to the bathroom. So, I finally started to give into the idea… No one likes me? No one wants to include me? Everyone hates me?
No one likes me…
When I got off the bus that day, I ran home; I had reached a new level of fear. I went around the house and gathered up all the candy I could find that was leftover from Halloween into a brown paper lunch bag. I told myself, kids like candy, right? So if I bring the candy, they’ll like me. It’s as easy as 1+1=2. If this doesn’t work, nothing will.
The next day, at the playground, I went around with my brown paper bag of candy. I held it up to all the kid’s faces, saying, “Do you want to be my friend?” When no one took any candy, I grew desperate. I started crying, “Please, take some candy! Please, why don’t you like me?! Won’t anyone be my friend?!” Then I started screaming and crying. I threw the bag, and pieces of candy scattered all over the cement. The programming had reinforced itself even further.
The faces of the boys and girls around me blurred. A boy in a striped shirt laughed. The girl who knew how to do cartwheels better than anyone else looked concerned, but didn’t step forward or take my hand. A boy with freckles yelled, “Aww, are you crying, crybaby? Why don’t you—“ and I didn’t hear the rest. I don’t remember the rest.
As you can see, the programming—with brutal effectiveness—brings out actions that creates enmity between the very people who should be helping the victim. The victim is programmed in such a way that, no matter what they do to get help, they just dig themselves deeper and deeper.