The Dolls

Born from the womb of my destined earth entry vessel, I am Angie.  My human mother gave me that name.  “Because I loved Angie Dickinson.” She’d say.


Truth is, I was an identical twin. The other twin died towards the end of the 8th month. I was born shortly after, almost dead from illness due to the twin rotting in the sack with me. This was my mother’s story, and she stuck to it. I have never seen my birth records. They are on the Portsmouth, VA, military base somewhere, on some old time film strip. I’ve messaged to attempt to retrieve them.  I deeply want to see my birth records.

The language I will use here is psychological speak, and I have my own understanding about Multiple Personality Disorder, or to put it in laymen’s terms, altered states of being ingrained into the psyche through severe childhood trauma.  One alter, I would discover, was already a part of me before the abuse, but that is another story.   MPD is a controversial diagnosis, and I am aware of this fact. I neither defend nor deny this diagnosis.  I don’t find disorder in it at all. In fact it has allowed a severance of organization. I understand that altered states of consciousness are prevalent in those of us who have suffered in extreme ways as children.  I accept it as a definition and an identifier to what it is that goes on inside of my existence.

Starting in my mid teenage years, three of my states of being ran rampant like a nuclear reactor, altering my states of being without me having any self awareness of them and the way they controlled my behavioral decisions. When I was in my late 20’s the three began to take form, shape and develop a voice and personality of their own. As I became more mature and creatively seasoned, we developed a relationship where we became successfully functional as a wheel.

They are not new to me.  Talking to YOU about them, however, is very new for me.  I used to worry, not wanting to be judged, criticized or labeled crazy. Then I realized fuck anyone who would dare be that apathetic. They are not who matter. You are, and so here I am, vulnerable and splayed open, in the hopes that someone else out there who lives with altering states of being formed by trauma, can feel understood, validated and supported.

This year has been a year of speeding forward in regards to the understanding these states of being. I’ve come to call them “The Sisters”. They are, in essence, a family. While I’ve found online representations of what they look like and have had visuals in my mind of their faces, nothing would emerge The Sisters like two trips I took to the Goodwill thrift store. Those two trips allow me to be here now, properly introducing them to you in a way that gives them a tangible existence.

I’ve never really been into dolls.  I had one who was precious to me for many years, gifted by a friend.  She was a beautiful ceramic fairy, sitting on an ivy covered swing.  It hung from a hook in my bedroom until it was handed down to my granddaughter.  I’ve never considered collecting or even thought much of dolls in general as far as collecting ceramic dolls as many people do. There are some dolls I have not liked, but that’s another story.

A few months ago, I was wandering the aisles of the Goodwill, browsing clothes and other thrifty items.  I don’t have full cognitive memory of lucidly drifting over to the children’s aisle where I found myself fully aware and staring at two dolls. They were posed in such a way that they were almost holding hands. I suddenly felt the urge to weep.  Vennie and Madge were sitting right in front of me. I picked them up, straightening their clothes, told them I was here, and they were coming home. As quickly as I felt like weeping, my emotional state turned to joy, as if I was being reunited with two of my children.  I felt that my twins had returned to me, and that even though I held them in my arms, they were representative of my soul energy.  I felt reborn through them as if I had my childhood back through them.


Here’s the thing with Madge. She doesn’t fuck around. Madge will cut you. Madge will give you a black eye. Madge will land us all in jail. Don’t let her sweet face fool you.  Madge makes rash decisions based on her rage. Madge IS our rage, in essence.  But the important thing to know about Madge is that she always acts out of defense. She is not predatory. She simply doesn’t like to be fucked with, threatened or for the sisters to be put in any situation to feel unsafe. She hates bullying and manipulation.  She’s no dummy.  She is hyper vigilant and comes to the surface if we are in a situation where we feel possibly threatened and in danger. Madge has also evolved into a woman who can display controlled, sadistic sexual tendencies who also goes by the name of Maude.  I am part time writing a junk novel about Maude. She is an interesting character with a story of her own.


Vennie is the artist. She is a primary who I consider pretty much having integrated Angie into herself. Both are comfortable with each other’s names being used and respond at will to either names. Vennie is free spirited and likes to be alone. She is confident in her creative talents and would prefer to be able to create all of the time and also be the one permanently in the forefront even though she does understand the importance of each part of me. She writes, paints, sings, writes songs and poetry, plays the guitar and piano. She loves the stage and performing. She is not shy. She has a good presence about who she is and is a night owl, always up until the wee hours writing and creating.  She is the diver, currently writing the sequel to Cult Child.  She is the Bard and the keeper of the Records.

When the twins came to me, It was as if my yin and my yang came together again. They have stood elegantly on my dresser these past few months, holding hands and smiling at me when I go into my closet to get dressed.  They make me laugh and remind me that I am whole, just as I am, and this whole of me has the capability to continue to morph into more wholeness.

I have been to the Goodwill many times since the day the twins arrived in the form of the dolls.  Never do I venture to the children’s aisle.  I’m usually browsing clothes and books. I am not aware of the children’s aisle.  My mind never thinks of it or wanders to it.


I started physically working out again, so I went to the Goodwill today to see if I could find a good pair of cheap tennis shoes. I found them. 7 dollars, and I put them in my cart.  Here I was, months later, having drifted lucidly to the children’s department where I become aware that I am gazing at two more dolls.  This time the dolls were positioned in a way the tops of their heads were touching each other. I felt stunned. Frozen. Slightly disassociated in a “is this shit fucking real?” kind of thought pattern. I was standing there looking at Knowing and Sila.

Sila Caprin

Sila began to immediately chatter to me. I could hear her voice in my head, literally, like a 5/6 year old, but intelligently speaking for her age.  It was almost as if there’d been no missing time between our last seeing one another.  She holds years of more stories to tell, but for her, she’d seen me as early as yesterday.  Completely dissociated back to her innocence is the best way to describe the feeling/sound of her voice and information being relayed.  She was excited to talk to me. She went right into letting me know she had something to tell me now. I was zoning into it in the middle of Goodwill, and I found myself making the noise in my throat.

I make a soft clicking noise when I am grounding myself into the now. It’s a self stimulating noise disguised as humming accompanied with deep breaths, something I started doing many years ago, a way to self stimulate in public without being looked at like I’m weird. Just like I’m singing and joyful, because I am, it’s just, now’s not the time, if you get my drift.  People aren’t that informed to get it. So, I picked her up and put her in the cart.  Sila is the youngest child. She is the one who experienced all of the torture first hand. She is the voice and narrator of Cult Child.  I immediately understood why Knowing stays with her. Sila would be very easily preyed upon without Knowing’s protection and guidance with her at all times.


Knowing. She is my everything. She reminds me to go to the trees, take soft soothing baths, take care of myself and be love. She has ancient wisdom. She is an Empath, and shares her voice with Vennie. She holds the cosmic knowledge and freely gives it. She is the ancient spirit guide and protector.  She is what I consider to be very integrated with Vennie and Angie.  The three of them could be considered a Counsel together.

Many things can switch my state of being.  The topic of conversation and situational surroundings play an intricate part.

I couldn’t believe that this happened, but felt confirmed in an “it’s okay” kind of way.  Whatever is needed for us to be able to feel love. It felt so proper and right, allowing me an actual physical way through which to allow these states of being have a life of their own. Dolls. I had no clue or premonition that my alters would emerge in such a way.

After what Sila told me, I hope that the rest do not come in the form of dolls. I don’t know how pretty they will be. I must admit that there is a heaviness which settles into my chest when I know where I still have left to go.  While my head feels determined to jump in, my spirit understands that childhood ritualistic torture isn’t fully revisited without a plan.

During the ride home Sila told me about the Cave Keepers. No, I don’t “believe” dolls can talk. I just know what was running through my head, seemingly opened by finding this doll.  It was the first I had ever heard of them, but as soon as she mentioned them, I could almost see them clearly. They appear to be somewhat dormant forms sitting on either side of the cave entrances with their heads down, appearing to be sleeping. I suppose they seem to have on some type of matching sweat pants and coats that are the same color as the rocks on the caves.  They’re not blobs.  They are stout and stone. They would be awakened immediately if one of us tried to enter the cave.

The Cave Keepers being awakened in that way is a dangerous trip to make, Sila explained in her child like voice as if she was recounting a children’s book.  She said I have to just sit by them quietly so that we can become familiar with one another. She even indicated that if I, Angie, can build a relationship with them, they might even be willing to take one of us on a tour of their cave.

Then she said that there are many caves and many Cave Keepers, and that I’d have to just start with the first one, where I would gain a map to navigate to the next one after I had finished exploring that cave.  Really?  A sick game of Dungeons and Dragons came to mind.

I asked her about the doorway with the bright shining light, and she fell silent.  The energy in the car shifted, and I just said, “Okay, we’ll wait.”

I feel slightly exhausted, slightly encouraged and slightly discouraged.

Exhausted because of the event of finding two more dolls and the emotion and head spinning which emerged as a result.

Encouraged because it felt like a completing of a phase that is allowing me to move on in this journey.

Slightly discouraged because I understand there’s so much more journeying I have to do, and wonder what more I will remember. But what I do know is that I am more heavily armed than before, and so the amount of wounds acquired will be increasingly minimized.

I am a bit tired.  I am ready for winter hibernation and revitalizing, writing and seeing what’s around the bend.

The Sisters

About Vennie Kocsishttps://venniekocsis.wordpress.comI am a survivor of abuse and child trafficking in Sam Fife's Move of God cult. Writing is the way I remain sane in this world of dissection. Creativity is medicine.

8 thoughts on “The Dolls

  1. Thank you for linking this to me Angie/Vennie. We also call each other sisters. And refer to ourselves as our inside family. We all tried to read along. It was captivating from the beginning to end for us.

    I love how you saw and felt the dolls. And the story as you told it. I also notice how you, when referring to Madge said, she has evolved into a woman…that is interesting to us, as the main well four of us, we used to think three…we are at an age of 18, but act older, in maturity..we seem to not think that matters as we were mature enough at much younger to care for entire household…but I am babbling about us again.

    I want to say I so understand when you say you feel splayed open, and fear being judged or labeled as crazy. We felt and feel that way when we post. But your writing and comments do help us feel validated. That was part of what we wanted as well. But you know, we always felt crazy, I think that was always part of our abusers plan.

    Apologies if I babble too much of ourselves, but we identify so much with what you write. We want to read your entire blog and book. But, slowly, as it touches things inside, very closely. We slept all evening out of exhaustion after I realized upon listening to you that I was wrong in trying to hold back and not let others switch like I used to, and began that again. I knew it had been wrong, and had even written on it prior.

    Thank you so much for all you do to share with others, and taking time to comment. You have all worked very hard and continue to, that is so evident. Your writing is just beautiful in how you convey it as well. I am babbling and will stop, but this was a great great post. We loved it.


    • Aww, please never worry about “babbling”. I likewise appreciate being understood. I love hearing about your journey. Me sharing and connecting with others like me, helps me know that I’m not alone, and there is purpose in our discussions.

      Trying to refer to us/me sometimes varies and the truth is we do get labeled crazy when we are actually highly intelligent. To be able to even identify and articulate this fragmentation takes a deeper understanding in and of itself. Unfortunately for us (you and me and others with DID) most of the time the only non-DID individuals interested in us are narcissists/sociopaths who want to prey on us or doctors to either study us or try and fix us. When what we need is support, love and understanding in general.

      I think if they would listen to us they could learn how functional we can be just as we are and also learn to help provide the support system we require to travel back into these spaces. It does take work to get the system of us working in a way with which we can manage life on a level that THEY define. Which is another problem in and of itself. We simply cannot live in the mainstream ideal of life. It’s way too overwhelming. We have special circumstances, and while they study us and/or deny our experiences, they don’t provide the proper support for us TO thrive. Even though they, meaning the system, demands that we do in order to be re-classified as normal.

      I am immediately wary of anyone who gangstalks and calls me “crazy”. If the ability to compartmentalize is so crazy, why have they spent so much time allowing it to happen? I think deeply on this cycle.

      1. Child trauma and mind control is de-fragmenting children.
      2. They become adults who go to psychiatrists who label and/or medicate them.
      3. Someone is profiting greatly on it all, and it certainly is not us.

      But no one seems to figure out how to create stricter child trauma laws to end the cycle of creating what they call craziness. Feels like a pretty sick and fucked up manipulative game to me.


    • Yes, the MC is the parts that scare us yet anger us as we want to write posts, but when our own therapist would just sort of sit…as if she had no idea. We took her proof of one thing. That we do…we know is done and she just never would bring it up again, because why? she did not know about it…but claimed to be an expert in cults. I believe in the Monarch Programming and what you talked about, and have briefly spoken to some others, you seem to be the most well versed in it, as to a knowing and understanding, but then they don’t want us to be. I can’t say we have an understanding of it..I only know our memories so far, and what they seem to add up to. Sometimes a pile or series of seemingly unrelated things. But if you look at the links…Vanessa and Darkness are good at that, you can see them come together…but looking at them is traumatic at times. I can’t for instance or could not for the longest time. I think writing would help that. But then do we start to look crazy? Right now we just look like a DID/MPD whatever person…but it is much more horrific than that. How I mean by that is we were not just in a bad home molested by our father for years with a cruel mother. But that is so horrible please do not understand me.

      However, we are confusing to ourselves, in the way that we were not in a commune cult like you…so our memories are diluted with the abuse at home, and then what led to this cult in our town, and so much more..but we remember also crime and oh senators…somehow it all connects. We have programming that is how we refer to mind control. We try not to read too much until Darkness says it is ok, to look it up, because we want to know our memories are ours. If that makes sense. And every time we remember and our ready and look something up…it is right there. And we are always shocked. But also feel alone, like how could this be.

      I do believe at this point that it is all manipulative and controlled for the most part, and even the good willed mental health professionals are pawns. How I even type that I don’t know because I worked as a social worker. But when you write it is so resonating with us. I do not think you sound crazy at all.


      • I want to say that there is ritual abuse going on in homes all across america and the world. It’s not just on communes in the back woods like the propaganda machine tries to play it. No, it is in households like the one you grew up in. Then if a doctrine is added on to of it the physical and sexual abuse, it is a buildup of complete split offs as we, the children try to survive it all both spiritually and physically.

        One thing my therapist is very insistent on, is self care, that of all things, it be put first; including health, self soothing and grounding. Here are her thoughts when it comes to ritual abuse specifically, that to require us to force the memories up is extremely dangerous. She reminds me to be patient, that I have to allow myself to be led on this journey, not to try and rush through it. The reason being is that it literally could put us in physical harm such as catatonic states, shock and re-traumatizing.

        I believe we all are definitely victims of programming, and that programming is purposeful and calculated. Couple that with any type of doctrine and/or narcissistic, twisted mental illness and they get to keep their broken society of people.

        This is where I say that Madge used to be the one to talk about this type of stuff and she was angry. Now “The Counsel” speaks instead, with clarity and knowledge, facts and history. Because that is where truth lives.

        When we begin to speak out and know our truth, the gangstalking can become brutal. Anything from old naked photos to pulling up incidences to perceive us a crazy to coming to our blogs/channels to discount us. I suppose that I don’t so much have fear of that, more that I just frankly don’t want to deal with the bullshit. So my tactic is to not engage. Ignore or counter explain for anyone else reading.

        I believe there are some amazing therapists out there who get it. and way too many assholes whose egos are pumped because they have PhD or MA after their name and no one can tell them anything, including the fact that they CEASE being intelligent the minute their minds become closed to any other perspective. 🙂


        • OK yes, thank you very much for that advice. We fear the ones from our hometown. When we realized how easy it would still be to find our blog even though it is anonymous. We had already gotten some odd messages from one or two people on FB. So I think I understand what you mean by the gangstalking. Some of us go into great fear as if a child again. So thank you for that.
          And the reminder again about the taking it slow. We may have gotten too frustrated with out therapist but then again i don’t think so, as it was the deeper ones who felt she was not right and dangerous with her methods. But I do agree completely with what you said and your advice. Thank you so much for that.
          Agree completely. 🙂


          • These abusive individuals, while definitely capable of physical harm obviously as they did us, love to spin their illusion of fear, fear of hell, heaven, death – whatever other fear based illusions they can use to control us.

            Yet I remember I am having a human experience and I have to consider that I will have human reactions. And some things, frankly, are just too sick for my movie screen mind to handle.


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