Hi, I'm Symphony and I've been diagnosed with DID and PTSD since 2019. That's the reason for the alternating between "I" and "We" throughout.

In February 2019, I was kicked out at 17 by my mom before living with my aunt and uncle in Maryland. My mom thought I was demon-possessed and tried to exorcise me before kicking me out of her car in a busy parking lot and threatening to have me arrested for smoking weed. Over the next 6 months, I found a job, started regular therapy, and began seriously working on my music career. In late November/early December, with the help of my aunt, uncle, and therapist, I was institutionalized at the Shephard Pratt Inpatient Facility where several psychiatrists and social workers saw me twice every day for a week. I spent another 3 weeks at an outpatient facility in rehab for cannabis dependency and group DBT therapy. Although there is no cure for PTSD or DID, I was prescribed anxiety medication for severe panic attacks that caused me to vomit uncontrollably--as well as a medication to help with the nightmares. I was also prescribed an antipsychotic that made me feel worse. My aunt and uncle began administering it to me themselves. In late February 2020, I purchased a plane ticket to visit my best friend from high school for a week-long trip. The night before my flight, my aunt and uncle sat me down and said that if I followed through with my plans, I could not return to their house. We ended up having to go back home in March. We went back to work at Marshalls, the same job I'd had before I'd been kicked out, but the stress was actively killing me and I was eventually fired. I tried going back to school and connecting with the disabilities office on campus, but Oakwood kept relocating the disability officers and I was regularly left without someone to talk to or accommodations. I eventually spiraled into a severe depression that ended in a psychotic episode; which landed me in the hospital in October of that year. In January of 2021, I had to get my childhood best friend to drive me to the ER with a severe kidney infection because my mother was refusing to take me on the grounds that she knew what was wrong and could treat me and that every doctor in Huntsville was racist and unknowledgeable. My parents didn't have health insurance at the time, so I later had to pay that ER bill myself. I had heart palpitations and zero potassium in my body after being unable to eat but vomiting for 7 straight days beforehand.

That was the last straw for us, as we realized our health was legitimately in danger. My parents just recently-- as in within the last 2 weeks--procured health insurance for me and my sister. I lived in Atlanta with my boyfriend until October 2022 when my car broke down on the side of the road. I still rode a 2 1/2 hour commute, taking 2 buses and 2 trains in order to continue going to work, but my funds were getting eaten up and my health began to deteriorate again. My boyfriend and I were doing our best to take care of ourselves and the apartment we shared, but in November we decided we should go back to our childhood homes to get grounded and build our savings, as well as get another car. Luckily my job at Starbucks allowed me to transfer without losing pay or benefits.

At first, my savings goal was 2 thousand dollars. But I quickly realized I'd need more if I was going to be able to afford rent and a new car. So I changed my goal from 2k to 5k, and then for good measure, from 5k to 10k. In the weeks leading up to my move back to Huntsville, as a system, we struggled with a lot of dissociation and PTSD flashbacks. On day 3 of being here, we vomited bile and blood for 14 hours straight. My mother did take me to the ER around 9 am that morning, but the doctors didn't find anything. The last time I vomited that badly and repeatedly was when my dad came to visit me in Atlanta a few months prior, and before that, it was when I traveled with both of my parents to Maryland--where I grew up in the early 2000s. When I got diagnosed, the doctors, psychiatrists, and social workers all warned me not to return home. As time went on, I gaslit myself into believing I was just being dramatic and making a big deal out of nothing. There was no way I could've been traumatized SO badly that I'd have PTSD, and certainly not multiple personalities. I was constantly invalidating my own experiences and memories because it was honestly too hard to believe.

The nature of my DID means that I'm not always fully aware of the trauma and abuse this body has experienced. But since being in Huntsville, our gatekeeper (Esme) has been allowing us to see memories that have been blocked for years. We've also been able to read up on abuse, neglect, and trauma. It's triggering to re-visit the revelation that we experienced all of that, and from the people that brought us into the world. As a system, we were all willing to give both our parents the benefit of the doubt, and a second chance. But this is the "second" second chance, and since being back, it's just been more verbal abuse, gaslighting and emotional manipulation. Most recently I've had to endure my mother calling me "fat", a "pig", and "cheap", as I've been trying to recover from the body dysmorphia and eating disorder she gave me-- granted I currently weigh 103 pounds at 21 years old. My mother also doesn't approve of me working at Starbucks because she believes caffeine is toxic to the body. She never drove me to work, and the times that I did need her to pick me up she mentioned how it was either killing my mind, body, or spirit. The last straw for me was when she deliberately lied and told me that a dear friend of mine that recently died from fentanyl poisoning, actually overdosed on caffeine. One night I told her I'd be taking a Lyft home and she showed up anyway. I finally realized that no matter how much money I need to save, I cannot stay in my parent's house without inflicting more emotional damage on my selves. I know now that I can't change my parents. They neglect to use my correct pronouns or refer to me by my preferred name--Symphony--despite my sister exclusively using my pronouns. I even gave the courtesy of a heart-to-heart when I arrived explaining exactly why I wanted to be called by my system name.

When my car broke down, my dad told me that they don't have enough money to assist me in getting a new one. And since then, he has bought my mother a new car, given my sister his old car, and begun using my mother's old car for himself. Even if what he says is true, I am at the point where I know that I can't stay here, and regardless of what happens, I will only be here for one more month. That's when my new social security card and driver's license will arrive. I also have a paid singing gig in Atlanta the first weekend of March that I'm super excited about. Currently, I have 2k sitting in my bank account, but it's been a little over a week since I moved my belongings from my parent's house and I'm staying with a friend. However, her mom owns the house and will require rent if I stay here longer. I don't want to ruin my savings. I don't expect the goal of 10 thousand to be hit in a month, although I would be immensely grateful if it did. But I would genuinely appreciate the help. I've been financially on my own since I was 15, so I'm not afraid of hard work. But DID and PTSD can be debilitating and disabling and I have often had to call out because of chronic migraines or severe nausea that make it impossible to properly do my job.

Lastly, I just want to say that I'm not worried about what's going to happen in the future, I just want to finally feel comfortable asking for help. These funds will go directly to either a down payment or the full purchase of a used car and the first month's rent at an apartment in Georgia. I'm already working on a transfer to another Starbucks and hopefully a part-time bartender job there. Thank you in advance!