More on Assumptions…and Getting Free…

I started talking about assumptions in a previous post called Yours, Mine & ????… Now I will give another bit of the story.

I left off with my parents living in our house. They had manipulated their way in and there really was no end in sight. As we found out, they were not really serious about finding another place to stay. We gave them a break by not charging anything other than a token amount for food and utilities, but they saved no money. Once we finally figured this out, my hubby confronted them about it. Still…they were there and they had no money saved. That was a tough realization.

They were on the waiting list to get into an affordable place, but they were nowhere near the top. That meant they assumed that they would get to stay. Wrong! It did not turn out that way. G-d did a miracle and got them into a place way ahead of other people. Of course, there is also the possibility that they lied to us in the first place and were closer to getting in than they had let on. They did know someone who lived there who was recommending them, so that might have helped, too.

I think it is important to share a dynamic that was taking place before they moved. Although there it a lot still buried in the depths of amnesia and dissociation, I have very good reason to believe my mother was my trainer. She could trigger me so easily…a lot of knee jerk reactions. I will give an example.

I was going nuts with my parents being there. My mother would say something like “I know it is hard on you to have us here. If you need us to move, just tell us. We will find something…somewhere…somehow.” You get the idea. The old knee jerk reaction would hit. “Oh no, Mom. It’s OK. Really.” And I would walk away wondering why that would automatically come out and I could not just stay quiet. Opposing my parents was simply a no-no. And that was one of the blatant examples. There were many more subtle ways that I was being played and manipulated…even as a married woman.  That is…until Darlene came along. She was part of the beginning of my freedom.

Assumptions. My parents assumed they would continue to be able to control me…to trigger me for their evil purposes. Again…G-d had a different plan. I could not break free on my own. They were living in my house. They were setting off all kinds of programming. I was in danger. My son was in danger. Only I did not know that at the time.

My parents moved in during the month of August right not too long after my son’s fourth birthday. Talk about a vulnerable time. My husband started traveling…something very unusual with his job. A month after they moved in, I finally went to talk with my pastor and the worship leader with whom I was close. Although I was not “suicidal”, I did keep having suicidal ideations. I wanted to die…a lot. They convinced me to talk to my doctor about giving antidepressants another try. They also talked me into seeing a therapist. G-d used all of them to help me stay alive and get through the whole thing.

The first therapist (P) I saw for only one appointment. I couldn’t afford to continue with him, but he was someone to see until I could get into a different one. This is another way that I see the hand of G-d. I had left messages with several of the therapists, but he was the first to respond. As it just so happened, he was very knowledgeable about DID and had even written an article on it.

What he saw in me really concerned him. Knowing I would not be coming back to him and being afraid that I might have a suicidal alter trying to take me out, he shared his article and said to read it and think about it. He was very upfront about what he thought might be happening. He said that he, ordinarily, would never do that, but he was afraid for my life.

I took to heart what P had said and read his article. At first, I did not really relate to any of it, but the more I read, the more the light started to go off. I saw things he described that explained some things I had noticed in my life…things I just shrugged off as being who I am. Although a bit skeptical, I tried to keep an open mind and look for truth. I also prayed for truth…a LOT! I was very cautious about being “led”, but could see more and more of myself in some parts of the article. Bear in mind that I still did not have any clear SRA memories yet. I was very cautious…not wanting to assume and not wanting to be deceived…whether in my own mind or by anything in the spiritual realm. (Yes, I do know that demons exist.)

I started seeing B the next week. I told him what P had said and that I thought I might have DID. He just said, “we’ll see.” So, I just started paying attention. It was minor stuff really, but it was there. He remained unconvinced…so he told me. I was almost upset with him because I was pretty sure I had it, but wanted some confirmation…something he refused to give. I did not want to assume anything. So, I just kept observing and sharing. Then, one day in February, something happened.

I had been struggling to hold my own in my own home. A girlfriend came over…someone who had DID and was a cult survivor (although I don’t think I knew that about her…yet). We were talking about repressed memories and how they can come up. I shared about someone I had known a few years previously who had witnessed, as a child, her father murdering his mistress…the mother of her best friend. Years later, as an adult when she was safe, she started to have memories and PTSD surfaced big time.

Suddenly, my mother agreed with us. She said that she knew that could happen because she had memories that had come to the surface. I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping. I looked at my girlfriend who knew that my parents had denied my memories. Or, at least my father had. I had to fight to keep from saying, “Mom…how can you say that and not believe me?” But I stayed quiet. I was floored and needed to process this.

The next night, I was kneeling on the floor of the kitchen digging something out of the corner cupboard. My husband was behind me facing the other counter. My father reached over me for something. Suddenly, I felt something hit my rear end. In retrospect, I think my father had something in his pocket and his jacket, which was very large and loose, just swung forward and hit me. At the time, though, it felt like my father had patted my rear end and I reacted immediately. I was instantly triggered…seriously triggered. I was in shock at the thought that he would actually pat me like that with my husband standing right there.

Somehow, I got up and made it to my room. I had my own room for art, computer, sewing, etc. It was my sanctuary. I closed the door behind me trying to figure out what to do. I was losing it. The next day was Valentine’s Day and we had a special day planned. I did NOT want to blow the day…for my poor husband’s sake.

As I started to sink to the floor, knowing I was completely shutting down, I said something. I don’t know if I quietly said it out loud or if I said it in my mind…but I know I did say it. It was something along the lines of, “please, I don’t know if you are there or not, but if you are, I really need your help because I cannot do this.”

At that point, I slid into the background and someone came forward. It was Darlene. I just watched and listened at that point. It was a very odd sensation…as if I was in the backseat or something.  I felt no emotion. I was impassively watching and hearing everything, yet was removed from it. When I went back out of my room, I could hear “myself” talking and see everything, but Darlene was in control.

Darlene was very key to my freedom and survival. My parents assumed they could get me out of the way, but they could NOT. They assumed they could get total control over my son. But they could NOT. And the best thing…Darlene had been created during my first marriage. I still do not have the details of that event, but this I know:  she was NOT trained by my mother and was, therefore, impervious to her triggering. She was very “unimpressed” with my parents and did not like them. I came to realize later that she had also been side by side co-present with me for about 18 years by that time…all unknown to me.

I find that, even after all this time, I am affected in the telling of this. So, I will stop for now and continue again later. I hope there are no spelling or grammar errors. I need to walk away from this and not reread the whole thing right now.

Today…

…it is one foot in front of the other. I went out to get the oil changed on the van…for free! When I came back I really did not want to get out, but I did. I still have lots to do today…my checkbook, the bills, working on something for the house.

I was shaky when I got here this morning, but as I read and responded to comments, things started to calm down a bit inside. Now I am taking a few minutes to write before going outside to help with something.

People say that I am courageous. That always takes me by surprise. I guess I just don’t see anything I do as being courageous so much as it is what I need to get by. But I think I do get it. There was a time when I was afraid to put anything out here. It has taken time to get to the point where I can write what I write as openly as I do. So, yeah…maybe I get it. But I still am not sure I am all that courageous. I see other survivors doing things that I cannot imagine doing. I think THEY are courageous!

My body is flooded with emotional flashbacks. It is difficult to think straight…yet I must. It is times like these when it is the most difficult. There is no place to just go hide out for a while. Plus, when there are things that need to be done…well…they need to be done. I have already left so many things undone because I just could not do them. But I cannot leave everything there…as much as I would like to at times.

Sometimes I just wish I could go someplace safe and shut down. No responsibilities. Nobody needing me…for ANYthing! Just rest and healing. Like a retreat. I used to have a contemplative style retreat every year…just Yahweh and me. I have not had one since 2005. Oh, how I miss it.

As for mom…more on her later. Still no further word from her.

Maybe…It Is the Time of Year… (TRIGGER WARNING)

How I do during this time of year varies. But one thing seems to remain the same. At some point, I will get hit with the reality of what is happening out there. There aren’t really too many places where I can openly talk about this subject. My main FB profile is one where I cannot. I mean…I can mention it in passing…but to really share the horror of it? No way!

Part of that is because there are actually rather young people in my friends list and because there are people I don’t know well enough to be that open. Another part of it is how do you explain to people the things I have seen? The things I have experienced? I don’t even write that much about it here. How do you explain child sacrifices? How do you explain cannibalism? How do you explain ceremonial daggers with blood dripping from them? How do you explain seeing your father plunge a dagger into the heart of an infant after smiling at you? How do you explain having to choose who lives and who dies? How do you explain a bigger hand over your hand holding a dagger? How do you explain looking down at your own hands and finding they look so much like your mother’s? How do you explain emotional flashbacks that cause you to fight to keep from doubling over…to keep looking “normal” and “OK” to those around you? How do you explain being out and about and suddenly needing to be home…or some other safe place? HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN??????

I find that I don’t. I just keep on hiding it…inside. Maybe THAT is why I am feeling so emotional right now. Well…I KNOW there is more to it than that…but that IS at least part of it. I shove aside the things I know. In so doing, I think I am also shoving aside the things I don’t yet remember. There is a time…if we are on this earth long enough…when those things will have to come to the surface. A time when the hidden things buried deep within will have to be made known.

So…maybe it is the time of year…when all that is buried is touched upon by the knowledge I have of what is going on.

More Art Up…

I put more art up on my art blog. Although I enjoy sharing my art…especially if it will encourage someone else to do healing hard…the work of uploading and posting is a bit tedious. I think, though, that perhaps the harder part…the more tiring part…is revisiting all the art pieces.

Some of the art pieces are joyful. Some are processing. Some are uplifting. Some are just plain hard work. I don’t really have time to reflect on the joyful ones. Nor do I have time to really reprocess the hard work ones. It is a mixed bag…a bit of an emotional roller coaster. So, I do them in batches.

I just published several art pieces…adding notes as I went. I also uploaded several more pieces into drafts. Later I will put notes on them and publish them. They don’t all need notes, but I do want to get tags and categories on them. Speaking of which, I don’t do a very good job of making a distinction between categories and tags. So, I just duplicate one for the other. Whatever tags I use…those are the categories I use. I guess that works.

I like being somewhat organized…and maybe even too much so. This living situation has definitely taken its toll on that part of my life. I cannot keep track of much of anything living like this. I am anticipating moving into the house almost with bated breath. But not quite. I do need to breathe. Our prayer is to get in before the cold weather really hits. It has been unseasonably warm here due to drought. I appreciate the rain we are having tonight, but don’t want to lose the warmer weather…not just yet.

My heavenly Abba is holding me together…as usual. Even when I am in my lowest points and going through my greatest struggles, He is here with me. My Rock. The Holder of my heart. I just could not do this life any other way. Once we get into the house…I know there will be other struggles and issues. In fact, it is going to be interesting to see what happens system-wise.

I have not been able to visit and keep up with my friends blogs and such…but I do hold each of you in my heart. I think of you. I pray for you all (hope you don’t mind – I pray for your well-being and strength and comfort and healing and whatever else comes to mind). I hope the best for you all. Sending love and hugs to all who want!

How a Webinar Is Done…

A webinar is an online seminar. Instead of going to a physical place, you sign in to an online site…from the comfort of your own home. That is nice because you don’t have to be concerned about traffic or getting there on time. You also get to have handy whatever you need to help you keep grounded…or to get grounded if something in the webinar triggers you. All those who are signed up will receive an email with the site address and the log in. Via that site, you get to watch the slides used by the presenter.

A second email invites everyone to the webinar conference call. The email includes a phone number with a sign in code. That connects everyone in a single call. Those listening mute their phones while the presenter is speaking to cut down on background noise. There are times given for feedback or questions. Most presenting sites also have call in or microphone capability. Not each site is equal in its quality or features, though. Therefore, Survivorship has chosen to use one site’s call-in software and another site’s presenting software.

So, you receive two emails…one with the call-in information and one with the link for the log-in to see the slides. It is a very interesting experience. Oh…and another thing. There is a side chat window for those who have difficult with speaking on the phone. It is possible to ask the presenter questions there.

Blogs and Bookmarks and Other Stuff…

The last time I changed laptops, I lost the tabs on some blogs I was following. I forgot to bookmark them. I tried to do some searches, but cannot locate the blogs…and I don’t remember where I first found them.

I have been so on edge lately…even more forgetful and overwhelmed. It is difficult to keep track of more than I absolutely have to. I have been pulling back from some things and taking care of myself.

The other day, I got to speak with my former therapist from across the country. I sure wish I could speak with her more frequently. I miss having someone with whom to regularly debrief…someone who understands me and knows me very well…someone who knows my issues and my history…someone who is level-headed and of the same belief system as me. She is really good and I know I can trust her.

What I really wish for, though, is the ability to talk with someone face to face…in person…every week. I so miss that. When I feel edgy, it can be difficult to open up to anyone…but I can often write…or do art. I am going to try to work on both.

Part of what I am dealing with right now is the realization that there are certain things in my life that may never change. There are things I have no control over…and those things affect me. I must work on accepting them…somehow working around them and with them.

Expressive Arts Carnival No. 2

I just had to pop in and share the Expressive Arts Carnival No. 2 that Paul is hosting on his blog. There are some amazing pieces of art there. I highly recommend following the link and checking it out!

Injury?…

Paul recently wrote about injury in the context of DID. My mind is swirling so much that I found it challenging to focus on what he wrote. I wish I had copied my reply before kicking it off.

I was injured…methodically…repeatedly…starting when I was a little girl…although I don’t think I ever thought of using the word “injure”. Perhaps that was because it was mostly non-physical. My injuries were mostly in the “heart” and mind…the internal stuff that no one really sees.

Although I feel very injured…I don’t remember ever putting that word to it. No…I used words like “defective”, “less than”, “not good enough”, “failing” and “broken” and phrases like “what’s wrong with me?” Injured…hm.

So…now I have a question:  Was the DID that resulted from the injury also an injury in itself? I don’t know. It was a coping mechanism…self-defense…a way to survive otherwise unsurvivable horrors.

These are just some thoughts rambling through my brain today.

EDITING IN:

Here is some of I wrote at Paul’s post. It gives an idea of how what he wrote first hit me:

Good vs bad. Helpful vs. hurtful. Needed vs. needing to be discarded. What is DID? As I read your post here I think of how I was so injured
growing up…injured to the point of developing DID in order to “survive”. I still feel injured.

Injury causing DID in the beginning. DID causing further injury later in life as it no longer fully helps and starts to actually hinder real functionality.

Seriously…my brain feels very non-functioning right now. DID? I don’t know. I want to cry. I think the idea of injury touches me deeply. I
have never…that I know of…ever used the word “injury” to describe anything that happened to me in regard to DID or even PTSD. Wow!

Injury. I was injured. It caused DID. Is the DID actually an injury in itself? I don’t know. It seems more like it was the bandage that was applied to try to keep the injury from getting worse.

Sorry…I don’t even know if I am making sense. I want to understand what you wrote, but all I can offer is how it effected me…what I internalized and am trying to share back. I want to cry. What else is new lately?

Flashbacks…

I have been reading a novel about a woman who loses her sight due to conversion disorder (which some would call “hysterical blindness”. The disorder basically covers any physical limitation that comes with no apparent physical cause…but typically following a traumatic event. The book tells of her witnessing an accident that killed her husband, young son and unborn child. Her young daughter survived.

As the images of the accident (for which she blames herself) keep intruding upon her mind she willfully pushes them away and her sight slowly starts to go, too. On some level, even she recognizes the connection. During the two-part novel, she willfully starts seeking her sight again two years later. She has now found a desire to see…a reason to want to see again…and she knows that one key to that is being willing to embrace the memories. So she opens herself to the flashbacks and, in spite of tremendous headaches and heartaches, wills herself to “look”.

On some level…I think what she was to dissociate the memory of the accident out of her mind. That is not exactly uncommon. Many people do not remember accidents they have been in…although, in this case, it was the witnessing of it…not the actual being in it.

It sounds a lot like dissociation to me. Only, in this case, physical blindness also comes. Can something physical like that come with dissociation? I know that when multiples switch there is often complete separation of the outside world to the one who “goes inside”. But that is different…isn’t it? This woman is not split…just dissociative of the memories. My curiosity is where the blindness comes in.

Flashbacks can include the physical sensations of the original event…even to the point of bruising, welts and even bleeding.  Some alters can be blind…or deaf. Is there a connection? I don’t know.

The reason I even bring this up is not because of the blindness…but because of the flashbacks. Flashbacks have been very minimal for me for quite a while. I suspect it is due to the living situation because there really is no “safe”, private place in which to process anything. That is something that is going to change most likely within the next month or two. Life could get really interesting when that happens…which can also be a bit unnerving to think about…so…I won’t.

I was almost finished with the novel when I went to bed the other night. As I lay there…one of the best times for visual flashbacks…I suddenly saw an infant’s toes. The whole infant was there, but my focus was on the toes. I won’t go into the rest of what I saw…but like that woman…I had to fight to “see”. There is this battle whenever visuals come up. Part of me wants to embrace them…to see the truth. Part of me wants to push them away…to leave the mists of amnesia in place.

It is not just the visuals…but the accompanying sense of horror at what I am seeing. Everything in me goes into battle mode…fighting to embrace…fighting to push back. The veil of amnesia is not so bad. Thing is…whatever is in there will eventually just keep pushing out. The next day I experienced emotional flashbacks…the kind I typically will have when I have flashbacks. No visual to explain it…just intense emotional pain.

This morning…I am seeing some visuals here and there. But…again…I am not in a situation where I can invite them to come. Someday…and I wonder what will happen then.

I wrote a poem about this. It will be in the next post.

The Reality of DID…Make a Difference in South Africa!

There are many countries in the world where DID is not acknowledged. Those who have it are either misdiagnosed, told they have demons (depending upon who they turn to for help)…or they are vilified as making things up…playacting for attention. I don’t know which of these things is the most harmful…or the most hurtful. They are all bad…wrong.

There is a LOT of evidence…concrete evidence…for DID aka Dissociative Identity Disorder, formerly called MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder). The reality of the disorder and the reality of the symptoms is very evident. Yet, there are places…like South Africa…where they persist in denying its existence.

Regarding the demons…can there be a spiritual side to DID? Yes…most definitely…especially when the abusers use spirituality as an element of their abuse. You see this especially with RA (Ritual Abuse) and SRA (Satanic Ritual Abuse). Can a person have demons? Yes. I know this for fact. HOWEVER…demons are NOT the cause of DID! They may be a factor in the system…they may influence…but demons are NOT alters. I knew a leader in a Christian congregation whose wife worked with multiples as a therapist. He used to tell me there is a saying. It goes something like this: too many times pastors are trying to exorcise alters while therapists are trying to work with or integrate demons. All aspects need to be looked at to see what fits and what does not.

Then there is the play acting for attention. I think, of all the possibilities, that this one is the most ridiculous I have ever heard of. The kind of attention multiples tend to get when they are switching is NOT positive! In fact, it can be downright embarrassing and humiliating.  I know so many who have been treated so badly by those who did not understand DID. They were judged and rejected when they most needed love and understanding.

What is worse is when someone tries to explain what is going on and the others refuse to believe. It does not matter whether it is someone in ministry, a therapist, an insurance company or just a neighbor or friend who witnesses the switching. When they refuse to accept the reality of DID, they do the person having it a huge disservice.

Oftentimes, education is the key. Many don’t know simply because they have not heard. Or…having heard…they think of Hollywood images like The Three Faces of Eve or some other rather “extreme” case. There are many “flavors” of DID and people need to have a way to learn about them.

So…how can YOU help? There is a blog that has been started by multiplegifted. She is trying to help bring the reality of the existence of DID to South Africa. I figure she can tell you best what she is looking for. Here is the link:

DID – change the law…together we can!

Please check it out and help…if you can.

Best Friends – For My Little Friends!

I made this with my little friends in mind. I hope it makes you smile.

EEG Test on a Multiple

The Woman With 15 Personalities This woman was given an EEG test to see if there would be any physiological differences between alters. It is an ineresting video.

Of course, there are those who would say that the changes noted could be controlled by Paula.  There will always be naysayers.  It took a lot of guts to go through this. She found a validation for herself.

What to Do With Anger?

I am writing. I have a poem I have been working on that I hope to finish in the next day or two at most. Tomorrow I am busy, but on Wednesday at least, I hope to finish it and give it to the one I need to communicate with. I think a poem might help get the message across in a somewhat neutral way. I hope. It is a “group” effort and I will post it here on the blog when I am done.

For me, I try to use anger as a catalyst. I try to find creative ways to express it…even when I find myself limited by my situation. I can only go so long feeling as if I am trapped in someone else’s schedule…forced to live in an environment that is so not suited to what I have been created to need. It is only my Abba who sustains me/us.

I will keep on hoping for change…and for it to be fairly soon. Right now, there are no signs of anything happening and we have no control over it. We have to trust our heavenly Abba. I know that a few of you readers know who I really am and you can see from what I write in other places what is going on…or not going on as the case may be.

Trust…it is all about trust. A lot of that trust has to do with knowing that my Abba will bring me through this…all of me. I hope to write more tomorrow or Wednesday.

What Do You Do With Anger?

I feel like saying something. I feel like wagging a finger in someone’s face. I feel like getting a bit loud. I feel like yelling. I feel like…what??? I don’t know. I don’t do anger very well. I try to be very understanding, very forgiving. I try to let go of my wants for the sake of others. We give…for their sakes…but they don’t even have a clue how much we give. And for one of them…that is OK. But the other. I need some acknowledgment. When you work so hard to present as “normal”…whatever the heck that is…it is so easy for the other one to forget who you really are…what you really are…who ALL you really are. It has been building up for some time.

So…what, exactly, DO you do with anger? With frustration? With an inability to get to what you feel you need? An inability to do what you feel you need to do? To process all the stuff you have had to put on hold for the last few years. Talk about healing interrupted! I know it is not totally interrupted, but in so many ways it HAS been.

I have grown in the sense that I have actually been holding it together through all of this. Well…I believe it is my Abba who has really been holding me together. Many times I have reached the end of my proverbial rope and it is my Abba who has kept me going…who is holding me together.

I am human. I have feelings…sometimes very conflicting feelings…depending upon the who and the what. Again…something that tends to be forgotten by the very one I most need to remember that. I am OK…but that does not mean that I do not have those feelings to battle at times. He does, too, and even from some of the same things. We each have our stuff. And then…I have stuff for more than one.

I think it is time to remind someone. I am praying about the how and the when. Do I write it?  Do I speak it? And then there is who should write it or speak it? What “voice” do I use? What will be best heard? Best received? I am not talking about manipulation here…I am talking about practicality. Know your audience. Speak accordingly.

Is it hopeless? Sometimes it feels like it is. Some times…it feels as if things will never change.  It feels as if I will always have to hide a lot of myself. I have to accept that life might just be that way. Can I do that? Can I trust enough for that?

Our living situation is going to change…most likely during this summer/fall…maybe sooner. That will bring a lot of challenges of its own…while also opening up some things for me. How will I handle that? I don’t know yet. I am trying to get prepared for both change…and for no change. I really hope that I do not have to face no change.

I Feel – Poem

In Triggers and Blow-ups and Talking About Things, I wrote about feeling like I have to hide. The following poem, written in February of 2009, reflects some of that feeling.

I Feel

Trapped. Trapped. Deep inside.
It feels like I have to hide.

The very truest part of me
is tied into a box you see,
always remaining on the shelf,
always covering my core self.

Some are living their lives outside
in a world so vast and wide.
There are others who are caught
in space internal – the land of naught.

A puzzle with pieces you can’t see,
you’ll never meet the whole of me.
With pieces not allowed to show,
I’ve pieces with no place to go.

It feels like I have to hide.
Trapped. Trapped. Deep inside.

copyrighted 2009