Tw RAMCOA, this post talks about extreme circumstances. Please take extra care.

Programming messed with my relationship with my parents in so many ways. Before I was programmed, I already had a poor relationship with them due to the fact that they lacked emotional regulation, maturity and presence. They left us all alone in a world of endless trauma that caused us to have DID. But my parents were in no way my primary abusers. They were not sexual abusers or traffickers and had pretty good morals all things considered. 

When traffickers found us and started programming us, they realized these relationships were paramount for us and proceeded to destroying them. Of all the programming, the one that was destroyed the relationship with my parents and family is one of the most painful. Not only is it still in place for the most part, but it has messed with my trust, my memories and my sense of belonging. I don’t know who I would remember them to be without all this programming and it breaks my confused heart. Every “true” memory that comes back throws me off balance.

I won’t go into details as to the kind of programming, not because I can’t talk about it but because it hurts and I am not in the mood to be recognized by my abusers.

However I will say that the impact of the programming was multiple:

• Memories of my parents are very blurry, or sometimes even just gone. I don’t know how I’ll remember them. I hope deprogramming will somehow give them back to me. You will find me in an ocean of tears if they do come back. [Update: this is currently happening and tears are not enough to heal my broken heart]
• I was tortured to the point of questioning and severely doubting my parents were really my parents. The meaning of parent, sister, brother, cousin became almost completely inaccessible.
• I was made to believe they were a lot worst than they were. They were just “gone”, they had abandoned me, they were dead and pretending to be alive… for some parts, they had betrayed us to the point of no return and were not worthy of being talked to… none of that was true at the time. 
• Many parts who are programmed cannot recognize my parents, my family, my siblings etc. They don’t even know what it means to be related – and when we do explain it to them, it doesn’t register. For those who do recognize them, they are not their parents, but the parents of the “others” (the ones who live every day life).
• I was made to believe people who weren’t my parents, my family etc. were my family. I very frequently confuse my abusers with my parents, parts referring to them as “mom” or “dad” where they are not at all. They couldn’t even be age wise, but that doesn’t seem to even matter given this was all put in my head through programming. When parts refer to “Mom” or “Dad”, we always double check who they are really referring to and clarify – but the pain is excruciating. Same goes for “sister” which was used to refer to someone who was used to program me, but who is not my sister. Those words were used to direct my affection towards my abusers.
• When I cut ties with my mom, in many ways I was so relieved not to “pretend anymore”. A lot of this relief was tied to programming, which I didn’t know at the time. She did do stupid things, which led to me closing the door on her. But mostly, staying away from her helped my programmed parts come forward because they felt safer. They confused her with my abusers and when my mom tried to reach out, we were terrified it was our abusers coming back to get us, our brain became quite paranoid for a quick minute. But it was really our mom (the real one). We don’t know how to even get back in contact with her without having heavy programming issues. We are trying to deprogram as fast as possible in this regard so we can contact her safely. This year we’ve decided to wish her happy birthday for the first time in three years. It’s a first step. 

It is an endless heartbreak and I know others deal with this too so I wanted to share to say you are not crazy and you are not alone. We are so sorry if you relate. I cried twice writing this post.