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Hi, this is my first post on the board, and have been listening to FDR since Stef first did the Joe Rogan podcast back in September. I’ve gained a lot from it so far, but I think its been made clear to me that the road ahead is a life long ride so I’m strapped in but right now I’ve got a flat and a spare with no tire iron or jack. I’m feeling very anxious as I’m writing this, and a little nervous. WHOO, here goes nothing… My name is Louis, I’m 20 years old, currently living in northern San Diego, CA, USA. I moved here just 13 months ago from Staten Island, New York, where I was born and raised. I moved to California with my Mom, Stepdad, a mutual friend of theirs, and my girlfriend who had been living with me in my mom’s house for 2 years before the move. California was my mom and stepdad’s plan since I was little. He’s a screenplay writer so the move was a step so he can have more opportunities. Right before moving, my mom expressed she no longer felt in love with my step dad, who had been in my life since I was 3, and felt that it would not change. While making the move, we drove in an RV and currently live in it, they didn't sleep together, and upon arrival, she began sleeping in the same bed as the mutual friend. (I guess not so mutual). This drove my stepdad crazy, every night they slept in the same bed together 2 feet away from him. He expressed his discomfort and anger in this situation but it did not matter, after 2 months he had gotten his own place. This stirred me up a lot, it still does. It was clear what was going to happen the whole time, just not explicitly , and until then I just didn’t want to except it. I expressed my sadness about the situation with my mother when she had approached me while my stepdad was away before he had moved out of the RV, with the option of my girlfriend and myself moving into an apartment with her and her new bedmate. That was when it was made explicitly clear to me that my stepdad and her were over and she was indeed going to be with this guy. Who I had known since I was about 5. Obviously the move with them did not take place. But when we had that interaction, I cried as I wanted to ask her how she could be so heartless, such a monster, so wrong, but I couldn't ask her that. I said I didn't want to just abandon my stepfather in the RV, especially where we are living is very far from anything. I can’t remember what I said but I tried to express how I felt, and I can only remember her yelling and tearing, “What about how I feel?!” I went silent, I didn't realize at the time but the whole interaction was all too familiar. She had said that she felt not in love with him for nearly 5 years, but didn't know it herself, and once she realized she did what she wanted to “feel happy” cause thats all she’s ever wanted, and yeah maybe it wasn't pretty but now she’s happy. She has since gotten a DUI and is without a license and probably the most miserable I’ve ever seen her. But I can never tell, she’s impossible to read, every time I see her I feel like she is mad at me, or she’s got something to say and just won’t. Thats one half, maybe the smaller half in my mind for now. But not irrelevant, as the big one is around my Bio-Dad. Before I moved out here, I worked with him doing construction for 2 years after I graduated high school. He knew my mom and step dad were moving but not that I was planning to go with them, I put off telling him for 6 months, and then a month before, I told him, with my girlfriend present. I could not initiate the conversation towards that topic, so we sat at the table awkwardly, until late when I gave the okay for my girlfriend to start. She went with “Mr.B, we have something we would like to talk with you about.” My heart was pounding the entire time, and I was fighting back sweat, and shaking. He took it okay. If it was what I wanted to do then he was happy, I suppose. It was all there but I didn't want to see it then, but I wanted so desperately to take this chance to move to California so I can get away from him. I see it now. All of it for what it is, abuse. My dad has always been a yeller, some would call it short-fuzed, others just an asshole. He's always been one for violence. He always told me stories of him getting into fights at school, or into trouble in school, and then my grandfather beating the shit out of him all the time; always with the caveat that he was BAD. My grandma would call it “Fresh”. I don't know who told me but I was once told that my dad once drowned kittens in a sewer. And boy oh boy does he love his beer. My parents married young, had me at 19(both of them), and separated when I was young, (about a year), but didn't get divorced until right before my mom remarried, some 7-8 years later. My mom had full custody of me but I always went back and forth until I was 16, then I stayed only at my mom’s. I’m my mother’s only child, but my dad, had a girl with a woman he was dating and proposed to, but turned him down, when I was 6. My sister’s mom was no longer living with us about 2 years later, and when I was 11 my dad introduced me to, lets call her Rita, a woman he once dated in high school and left for my mom. Rita had a son (9 at the time) from a man who ran out on her and denied paternity when she was 18. My dad moved them in with me and my sister about 2 months after the meeting, and married her all alone in Jamaica 4 months after that. They would go on to build a custom house together, and when I was 15 they had a baby girl, and my dad legally adapted her son, then when I was 17 they had another girl. After Rita lost her job after having the first child, they started to struggle, so after the second child was born, they were looking to sell the house they just built. It sold and we moved the last of their stuff out of that house and into the new one, the morning before Hurricane Sandy hit Staten Island. My dad would sometimes brag about his power over us by saying things like ‘when me and my sister would start to get out of line all he had to do was look at us and we knew’. I have many vivid memories of my dad hitting my first little sister and beating our dog. I always remember there being a hole in the wall somewhere that my dad made with his fist, even before my sister was born. Before I moved and knew better, I know he was doing the same to my 2 youngest sisters, then 4 and 2. But I know it has been going on as since they were less than a year. This caused me look at my early childhood where there’s really not a lot of memory before 5-6, so I talked with my mom. She left him because of the way he is, with his temper, so I asked about being spanked, she says he spanked me as early as 8 months old, but she insisted that she wasn't as worried about that as she was his verbal abuse, and rages. She admitted that she also spanked me but she said specifically 8 times. When I asked her, ‘You won in the legal system, 100%, why did you not take me away from him if you left because he was violent?’ Her response haunts me, “Well you really looked up to him at the time this was going on, and wanted to still see him, he was your dad, and when I grew up hating everyone who took me away from my parents, I just knew whatever I experienced I wanted to be opposite for you.” Now the older girl just turned 5 yesterday, and the other turned 3, 2 months before. And I know they are experiencing all the same kind of trauma that I have, living with my dad, they might have it worse considering the mother. I recently asked my oldest sister about how often has she seen my dad, hit, push, grab, slap, spank, or anything violent towards, either of the 2 youngest, her response was about twice a day. And I already know that the verbal aggression and abuse is constant. I also asked my stepbrother but in the context of, my sister says twice a day, would you agree? He said “at least from what I SEE.” I desperately want to confront my father on this issue but the fear level for me is so overwhelming. Ive spoken to him all of maybe 6 times in the year that I've been living in CA, but the last time, I tried to RTR him but couldn't speak it and I needed to get it out, so I texted him, explaining that I have fear around talking with him honestly and openly. Needless to say he didn't get it, but left with the good old, “You know I love you, when you're ready, I’ll be here.” I know this is long, so to anyone who’s read this far, I am truly thankful, and if anyone can offer up any comments, questions, advise, or criticisms, would all be helpful here. I would also like to acknowledge that this post as my very first may come on as very strong, but that would be why it is so lengthy. Thank You anyone and everyone, Louis

Can there be a sibling in my IFS, when I'm an only child? There were times in my youth when I often wished I'd had a brother. As a spindly and shy girl growing up, I rarely felt confident in myself. I spent a lot of time thinking, and would ponder how much better my life would be, if only I had a brother to give me advice, to protect me, and to share in the authority of my parents. A number of years later, my mom and I were sitting alone at the dining room table having a conversation. I think I was in my 30's at the time. Though I'm not sure how the topic came up, nor do I recall having mentioned it to her before, I admitted to her that I had always wished I'd had a sibling. It felt like I was confiding a big secret. Then, I asked her why she and dad had decided not to have any more children. She grew sad and her answer was not one I had expected. She told me that she got pregnant again within weeks after I was born. She went on to tell me that she had lost the baby in a miscarriage and it had been due to an error made by the doctor who had delivered me. (Alert for any men who get queasy at the mention of the birth process, be forewarned.) She said the doctor had neglected to remove the afterbirth after I was born and that it had caused the miscarriage of the pregnancy that followed. She said she was never able to get pregnant again afterwards. She began crying and I recall telling her how sorry I was. I got up and hugged her until she regained her composure. After the conversation, I had an overwhelming feeling that I was at fault somehow for the miscarriage. I'm not sure why I felt responsible, but I did. It was obviously the incompetence of an ill-trained doctor, but was it something in the way she had told me or was it something in the way I processed her answer to my question that made me feel otherwise? Though I didn't mention it to my mom (and we've never discussed it since), I went through a period of grief after that conversation. Grief for the loss of my sibling. Grief that I had somehow caused it. It was a deep sense of bereavement. To console myself through the grief, in my mind, I created the brother I never had. I mourned him. I embraced him. I visualized him. I imagined what it would have been like to grow up together. Did I answer the very question I began with? Do I carry him with me still? Upon reflection, I'd say yes, there can be a sibling in my IFS. Though I'm an only child, I feel I have a sibling and he lives in me. I'm not sure what role he plays yet. Perhaps he's been there all along as the one who helps me find answers to life's unknowns and the place to hide when I feel threatened. It seems time to pay him a visit and to get to know him better. I welcome any input from others who have experience with the IFS and can advise me if this is indeed possible. And also any input as to why I would have felt responsible for the loss.