Maybe…It’s That I Contacted My Cousin…

I found a cousin on my mother’s side on FaceBook. It is interesting connecting with her. I have never been close to any family members. We always lived really far away from everyone. I would really like to add her to my friends list. Thing is…she most likely has a cult background, too. There is every indication that my family is generational…on both sides. So…do I just add her and trust that all will be OK?

My former therapist noticed something about when people break free from the cults. For some unknown reason, they find that the breaking free goes across and down…to siblings, cousins and children. So…maybe she is free. She did mention that she had been trying to figure out what issues the family had, but that she could never figure it out…that it was always a secret with them.

Could she have broken free without knowing about her past? Could it be they are just leaving her alone? I don’t know. I have no connection with family on either side. I have no real desire to connect with anyone on my father’s side. I got to meet my relatives on my mother’s side more frequently…albeit only a few times.

I don’t really know how to resolve this. I hate to bring up the SRA. Perhaps I should mention my growing up amnesia and see how she responds to that. I so want to connect with my cousins. Right now…she is pretty much it. Even she does not seem to be close to her other cousins. She was not sure where some of them are.

If it were not for my own children and grandchildren, I would just befriend her. She is being very understanding about connecting in private. I am grateful for that.

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.

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?

My Healing Art Blog…

I put my first piece of artwork up on my Healing Art Blog. Not that it is my first piece of art ever…just the first healing art piece that I am putting up. I hope to add more pieces over time.

I am uncertain whether to simply put them up and let them stand-alone. Or…to add notes to them. I could share mediums and methodology. I could share what was going on inside when I did them (if I remember, that is). I could share what I was hoping to accomplish and anything else that comes to mind. Or…I can just let them stand-alone.

I could really use some feedback on that.

In the sidebar on the right is the link to my Healing Art blog…if anyone is interested. I am thinking of starting one with poetry, too. Any thoughts on that? Any interest?

Questions and a Log House

I am going away tomorrow. I am getting nervous. I will be alone…in a rural area. Granted…just down the drive…right before the street…is a family I know. (The two properties are connected in more ways than one.) And the woman who lives with her family in that house knows I am a survivor…but she doesn’t understand what all that means.

I am nervous. I will be away from what is familiar in an unfamiliar place. Yes…I have been there before and have even helped in some of the finishing of the logs and such. BUT…it is not “home”. I am not that familiar. The root of familiar is the same as the root for family. We live with our families. We know our families. We live in our homes. We are familiar with our homes.

Even though I am not really “comfortable” in my little RV…I am comfortable. I know…that sounds contradictory…but familiarity is comforting. That is why children of alcoholics and dysfunctional parents oftentimes end up marrying spouse who are similar…even when they swear they won’t. Their spouses may manifest their dysfunction in some different way…but it is still there.

I am a cult survivor. Alone in a rural area has not exactly turned me on. Then again…sometimes I just have to adjust…and continue to trust the Creator. Yeshua has protected me in so many ways and my location is not a hindrance to Him one bit.

I have my list of things to make sure I bring. I hope I have not left anything off. The most important things, of course, are my laptop and my art pieces. That is why I am going there. But I know it won’t be the sum total of what I do there. I don’t want to be “busy”. I want to just “be”…to rest with no demands…no interruptions…whether that resting be reading, praying, napping, just sitting…whatever.

All alone in a log house…a large log house. Talk about ambiance. I should get some pictures of that, too.  I know they want some, but I am not sure what they want. I’ll try to remember to ask before they leave.

I will be bringing my comfort foods and the things I want to eat. I not only do not want to put them out for food (I am staying for free), but it is also nice to know what to expect. I don’t want to have to wonder where the boundaries are…so I am bringing my own. It is easier for me that way.

Earlier today…I started to sense hurt inside again. Could it be that my system is looking ahead to having the privacy to feel pain and express pain? No holds barred? It’s certainly possible.

I leave tomorrow evening. It is time to go to bed. I might get a little bit of reading time in. It depends on how long it takes hubby to get to bed.

Good night, everyone!

I hope I don’t forget anything.

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.

Pain and Helplessness

It is so hard to read about the pain of others and feel so helpless…unable to contribute anything that I feel is of any real value. I can say that I care…and I truly do. Sometimes I care to the point of tears and feeling empathetic pain for them, but I am helpless to do anything other than to say that I care…and pray for them.

I recently read about a little girl who, I believe, is multiple. Because she is deaf, it makes it a lot harder to deal with what appears (to me, anyway) to be an insider’s total meltdown. I felt I really did not have anything constructive to offer in that moment when I read it. I was deeply touched…and maybe even a little bit triggered. So I wrote a few words of support, but felt pretty helpless. Someone else came along, thankfully, who wrote openly about multiplicity and he offered some constructive counsel for the poor adoptive mom of this little girl. I hope it helps…I really do.

I went to that man’s blog to read for a wee bit. He is married to a woman who has DID. It is a bit difficult to keep track of who is who, but I think I got a basic understanding. But, as I read, questions popped up. Some of my questions were based upon concerns and some upon curiosity. Now, before I get judged on my curiosity…I am not talking about curiosity for the sake of curiosity.  I am talking about curiosity because it touches on something that I connect to. Curiosity born out of my own pain.

This is a husband who needs support in his situation. Yet, he seems to have found something that works for him and his wife and “his girls”…as he calls them. Is what he is doing “healthy”? Well, it might depend upon who you ask. It is working for him and his wife and her insiders. Isn’t that what is most important? Her system is active and engaged. Mine…what is left of it…is pretty much shut down inside…or so I am told. Actually, I am not really sure.  After so much integration and with things being fairly quiet…I am not sure how much is “shutdown” and how much is blendedness. I really miss having regular times of meeting with someone who can understand.

Another interesting thing is that this woman is using a theophostic counselor. I wonder how her experience differs from mine. But then…it would differ…if only in that we are unique individuals with differing systems. I hope the best for both of them…as well as for that little girl and her adoptive mom.

All of us need support for something…whether it involves multiplicity or not. I hope that we can all open our eyes to the pain of others…whether we understand the cause of that pain or not. People are hurting. Isn’t that really all that matters? I hope we can see the pain in others and reach out…even if all we can do is offer words of support. If we have some answers or helpful counsel…that is all the better. But it starts with seeing…and acknowledging the pain.

My Sister

My sister had a brave heart. She was beautiful and childlike. She was a fighter who would not give up. She was trapped…caught in an unseen web that was too sticky for her to break free from. They had her where they wanted her.

My sister ran away from one cult family right into the arms of another…but she didn’t know. Neither of us did. At that time, we were both amnesic to our true history.

I wonder…did she ever figure it out before she died? Did she finally remember her childhood abuse…the younger years? Did she remember “everything”…or just the minor “stuff” she used as an excuse to run away?

My sister kept trying…in recovery and out of it. I remember her telling me how she had to fight with the recovery people to get her a counselor. She kept saying she needed one, but they did not want to give it to her…not even in those fancy, high class, expensive recovery places.

Was it because it was being paid for by his parents? After all…counseling might mean that she would remember something…something important…something damning…about them. Maybe she would finally wake up to the truth about her boyfriend and his parents…the family she lived with. Or…maybe she wanted a counselor because she already had an inkling of the truth? I will never know in this life.

This is the time of year that I especially think of my sister…as her birthday approaches in a couple of days. And I wonder about her death…and sometimes, I wonder if she even really died…or if they have her holed up somewhere. It didn’t look like her. And my father would not leave me alone with her. If he had…what would I have done? I don’t know. We weren’t supposed to touch the body…but I think I would have. It did NOT look like her. I had seen her within the last year.

My father said it did, but he had not seen her in years…so far as I know. But then…it is not exactly like I came from a truthful family. Ha! “Family”. What is THAT supposed to be? Not the caricature I grew up with.

It’s funny how everything seemed to be so good…on the outside looking in. All the memories I concocted about growing up seemed so OK…yet I was so not OK.  Stories my mother told me were woven through my mind with photos from the family albums. Childhood. Sure…that was my childhood…only…it wasn’t.

I remember the day I suddenly realized that it was all a lie…a fantasy. It has been so long now that I cannot remember if it was before or after I realized that I could not remember growing up with my sister. It is as if she did not exist…yet I know for fact she was there…in the same house with me.

So many things are buried in the mists of amnesia with a tiny flash of a snippet here and there that blazes through so fast that I can barely figure out what just went by. Yet…those flashes ARE there. And I do have the photographs. My sister was there. Some of the photos I took…yet, I can barely see anything beyond the photos themselves. Whatever I see is more like a surreal picture in my mind.

She died on my birthday. At least…I am told she died. I saw what was supposed to be her body…but it sometimes haunts me to this day. I know she was becoming “inconvenient”. I would not put it past them to agree behind closed doors while pretending to hate each other to me. Two families…warring for her body. It was sick. It was insane. It was my sister.

I will never get the chance to get to know her. Her living…except for the few times in the later years when I finally did meet up with her…is buried deep within. What I do remember makes me wonder if I really want to remember the rest. I don’t know. Maybe I should just create a life with her just like I created a life of my own? No…I want to honor her by remembering the truth…if I can.

Bittersweet Memories

This is a time of year when I tend to think more about my family of origin…or foo…as some refer to theirs. Thinking about foo always brings mixed feelings.

I can remember “good” times…like when we waited with great anticipation to see if it would snow by Christmas. I recall the wonderful feelings I had looking out at the falling flakes…all fluffy and white. Or the excitement of looking out the window in the morning and seeing the ground all covered with a thick layer of white.

And then, if I am not careful, the intense emotion starts to hit. For some reason…even remembering good things tends to lead to emotional overload. I don’t know why. Even the best of memories can start me on that roller coaster ride of emotions. Why?

Perhaps it is because my memories seem to be so few…so scattered. Could it be that all the good that is buried comes to the surface in those few glimpses of the past? Or could it be that painful memories are masked by that intense “good” feeling…that “good” memory. Could it be that the intensity of good emotions…an intensity so strong as to be “painful”…is just a coverup for the very real pain lying underneath? Could the intensity be a way of my system telling me not to trust that the good feelings were all there was? A way of telling me that I need to keep looking…that there are hidden painful things I need to be open to seeing? I don’t know.

I think of Christmas and the wonder of it all. There is always one particular Christmas that comes to mind. I remember the house. I remember the location…even the address. I remember looking for the snow. I remember my sister and I getting matching pj’s for Christmas. I remember getting a Mary Poppins book. I can almost smell the tree. I get an emotional “feeling” or sensation that I was feeling then. I can see the lights on the tree in the darkened room. What I cannot see…is my sister.

I know she is there, but like so much of her life…I cannot see her. I cannot remember her. We lived in the same house for 10 years and I can barely remember her a handful of times during our growing up years…at the most. I am thankful to have been able to connect with her at least a little before she died.

I cannot remember my parents on that Christmas, either; but I know/sense they are there…lurking somewhere on the edge of my “vision”…with my sister. I do remember more of my parents than I do of my sister. Then again…I guess that is not saying much, is it?

Memories are funny. You cannot select only the bad ones to “forget” or to bury. The good ones go, too.

I am starting to feel older. I know my parents are very elderly by now. Although there has been some email contact…it has not really gone anywhere. And that, too, is bittersweet. Well…maybe just bitter. There isn’t really any sweetness about it. I have done what I could. I have opened the door and allowed them to see that they can still get hold of me (should they ever decide to confess, etc. ) There are things I wish we could talk about…things I wish I could ask…but I know they are not in that place…at least not yet.

This year, I am thinking of Hanukkah more than I am of Christmas. After all, we know Yeshua was not born even in this time of year, let alone on the 25th. So, for me, it is almost a cultural/social holiday…even though I think a lot of Yeshua’s coming…then and in the future. But this is the first year that I am thinking more of Hanukkah.

My foo never celebrated Hanukkah. In fact, I have a feeling that my father would probably be very disapproving. Oh, well. There was a miracle of lights…so legend has it. I think of how the Light of the World came to dwell amongst us. I think of the miracle of the lights represented by Hanukkah. It is not hard to link them together.

I also think of how light has come to me in my healing walk. So much darkness in my past…darkness that has…over time…been slowly replaced with light. I don’t doubt that there is more darkness in there to be revealed…I am OK with that. I know that the Lord of light…the very Light of the World…is here with me to walk me through whatever more is there to be revealed. I know I can count on Him to never leave me or forsake me…to never abandon me.

Do my parents think of me during this time? Do they even care? Does it even matter? They cannot change my healing. I cannot change them. Yet…I hope that during this Hanukkah time…they will allow the only One who can bring true deep and lasting healing to truly be a part of their lives. I hope they accept His love for them and that they, too, will be healed.

People are not born abusers. They are born with a propensity to selfishness, yes. They are born fallen creatures in a fallen world wanting their own way. But cruel abusers? No…they are made into that…not born that. Whatever my parents (and other abusers) went through…I hope they find healing. I hope they can bring all that darkness inside to the true Light of the world…Yeshua. I hope that they, too, can find healing Shalom…real peace…even in the midst of their pain.

Inner Movement and Appearances

I was sitting here trying to work on something else and my mind just kept swirling around. It was difficult to focus. So, I decided to come write here instead.

What is going on? I suspect it is mostly the recognition that there is still deep work to do. It is as if there is movement inside…just under the surface…a movement that reminds me there are still voices to listen to. There are stories to be told…missing chapters to uncover in the book of my life. I was reminded of that in a phone conversation I had yesterday with a well known (and I am sure very busy)  therapist who gave very graciously of his time. I am very grateful for the opportunity I had to talk with him and ask him questions.

My life is full…and sometimes it feels overfull…to my way of thinking. To others, it may seem to be fairly quiet and sedate, but not to me. It does not take much for me to feel a bit overwhelmed…for me to feel the weight of trying to do things…and to appear “normal” through it all. I experience the pressure of needing to either participate in things…or have a good reason to give why I am not or why I can’t. When I say a “good” reason…I mean one that others can understand and accept without me feeling vulnerable.

As I write that, I realize how that sounds. Truth is…I owe no one any kind of explanation. Yet…there are some people that I believe I do. When I take on a project (some of which are not really optional for reasons I cannot go into here), there are certain expectations. If I am unable to meet them, then someone else has to pull my weight. That creates an inner conflict. I neither want to be seen as a shirker…nor as weak. Why do I care? Integrity. A good name is valuable…so, yes, I do care about anything that I perceive could possibly effect my good name.

I also care about not looking like I am crazy or something. I guess the only real assurance of that is the fact that people see me all the time functioning fairly well. So, if I sometimes have difficulty and explain that I have PTSD, I guess I probably come across as “normal”…which I am for someone who has been through what I have been through. Still…I don’t like to stand out…especially in negative ways.

 

Being Thankful?

Years ago, I remember struggling so much with life that it was difficult to find things about it to enjoy…things to be thankful for. There were times when I had to really work at it. It seemed like life was hitting me constantly and I could barely even catch my breath…let alone truly enjoy life.

It is much easier now to find things to be thankful for…to see the blessings in my life. Still…there can be those moments when I am triggered and all I can think about is getting through the next moment. I am thankful that those days are few and far between compared to what they used to be like.

My living situation is going to change…for the better. Hopefully, it will happen before winter…but it may not. I am very thankful for the upcoming change. However…with that change I know there are going to come challenges.  I have been holding things under the surface of the pool of amnesia. I have not really had any choice in the matter due to my current living situation. But what will happen when it all changes?

Although the new situation will free me up in many ways…I am also aware that it will free up other things…things that have been hidden for a very long time and buried deep within. While I am sure that some of the “calm” that I have been experiencing is the result of hard work and healing…I cannot help but wonder how much of it is simply that I have had to stay in shut down mode. How much will start surfacing…screaming for attention…when my situation no longer forces me to keep it all inside?

Sometimes I get vague flashes of things…kind of like what another blogger wrote in his post: Opening Yourself Can Tire Most Kids.  Michael wrote, “You reach inside, focusing on a part that has rarely seen the light of day, or a memory that gets recalled only when you see a phrase or two on another’s blog and so you must go within to retrieve that just-now-remembered something from your inner Self.”

I relate to that. Thing is…it is very difficult for me to get even the flashes. It is harder still to get to whatever is behind them. Will that change when my living situation changes? It very well might. In fact, I am hoping it will.

So…what does have to do with being thankful? Well…I guess I am pondering if I will still be thankful when the good changes also allow a lot of pain to come to the surface…when the relative calm inside that I have been experiencing more and more gets disrupted by the storms of healing.  Will I still be thankful?

I think I will. I want to move forward…no matter how hard it is. One foot in front of the other. I want to understand more about who I am and what I have been through. I want to know whatever it is that I need to know in order to move forward.

I have relied upon my Creator for my healing. I have trusted Him to show me the truth…in the right time and in the best way. He has never failed me. My heavenly Abba has been holding my heart all along. For that…I am very thankful.

My husband…what can I say about him? He has been so patient…even when I know he has been extremely frustrated with me. The change will effect us, too…how we are able to relate to one another. Huge changes are on the way. While I look forward to them…I am also terrified of them…if I get really honest with myself. I have hope…and I have trepidation. The potential taps into some very deep things.

Yet…I am determined to be thankful. I have learned that being thankful is not something I feel…it is something I choose to do. I decide. I have choice. And this choice no one can take away from me. My abusers took a lot of my choices away…but they can never take this one.

Fighting? Quitting? Choices!

OK…there are choices to be made…especially when life is hitting really hard. I can give up…or I can fight. I have to almost laugh because I have never really quite figured out what “giving up” looks like. The only thing I really know how to do is fight. I might be fighting on my hands and knees. I might be fighting curled up in a ball. I might be fighting simply by getting out of bed in the morning. I might be fighting by choosing to live life to the fullest that I can.

Fighting might mean making a phone call. Fighting might mean taking SamE. Fighting might mean writing or praying or studying or listening or any of the other things I might try to do to cope. It might mean sitting quietly. It might mean talking about the abuse and trying to educate others. It might mean just riding things out. It might mean never giving up my trust in my Creator.

Whatever form it takes…I know how to fight. I just don’t know how to quit.

I do know to walk away from things. It is especially important to walk away from unhealthy things…or things that make it worse. I also know how to run away…in the positive sense that I should run as fast and as far as I can from those people and things that drag me down. Walking away and running away (in this sense) are not quitting. So, what exactly IS quitting? I really don’t know.

Is it going catatonic? Can’t imagine going there. Well, let me correct that…I CAN imagine it. Thing is…I don’t like what I imagine about it. I don’t like giving up control. Nope…not for me. Is it not getting up in the morning? Well, having a son to teach makes that not workable. He means too much to me. He means enough to get me out of bed in the morning…even when I am tired and my back is aching.

Perhaps it means becoming a grumpus who snaps at everyone around me. Well…I cannot honestly say that I have not been that at times. Thing is…I love my guys too much to remain that way. I also love myself too much to remain that way. And then there is another aspect to that, too. If I stay in that mode of thinking, I start to spiral down into hopelessness and helplessness…which is a dangerous place for me to be.

So…I will fight…and I will continue to fight for as long as it takes. I will not quit. I will not give up. I might have to give up some of my desires in life…but I will not give up on life itself. Nor will I give up on healing or on myself. I will not give up on the Creator, either.

I will fight!

Whoopi Goldberg…Sheesh!

Well…Whoopi just keeps on stepping in it. This woman needs to either shut up or truly be the child advocate she proclaims herself to be. Then again…Whoopi is Hollywood. Perhaps, she is unable to speak the truth because the truth hurts too much. Was she, perhaps, raped as a child? If so…and if she had not faced it…it would certainly explain her backing up Polanski. Pershaps, her own daughter or granddaughter have been raped and she does not want to face it. Who knows?

I know that the cult runs a lot of Hollywood. What place does Whoopi have with that? I have no idea. I am just trying to understand why a woman like her passed over the opportunity to speak up and defend the rights of all children everywhere…millions of children…to not be raped.

I have two articles to share with you. The first one blows holes in some of the common arguments for people accepting behaviors like rape as being “normal” or “moral”. Whoopi Goldberg was Right…Sort of

The other is Wendy Murphy’s second letter to Whoopi. It’s Time to Apologize, Whoopi

Both letters have excellent points and are well worth reading.

Sometimes…

Sometimes…I just want to scream…or cry…or curl up in a ball…or…something!

Sometimes…I don’t know what I am feeling…sad…mad…resigned…hurt…wounded…apathetic…or…something.

I get tired of this life. I get tired of being wounded. I get tired of struggling…of feeling alone…of others just not getting it and me being unable to help them get it…or fearful to even try because they might think I am as weird as I sometimes feel.

Yet…in all of this…I do know who I am…well, in the big picture anyway. I am kind of clueless at times as to all of my inner workings in the here and now. But in eternity…in the big picture…I know I am the Creator’s. I know He loves me and will take me Home someday. Oh, how I sometimes long to go there.

No more PTSD. No more tears. No more sickness. No more dying. No more abuse. A place of peace and wonder and real, genuine, honest-to-goodness love between people…perfect love. No more wondering where I stand with anyone. No more wondering if my parents even desire any kind of relationship with me…or if they are even able to have one. No more wondering if they…or anyone else…is really safe.

I will continue to hope…even when it feels as if there is nothing to hope for. My emotions can lie to me. I know the truth and I choose to live in it…even when it is hard…or difficult. Life all comes down to choices. Will I live for the One who created me? Or will I live for myself? Will I love others? Or only myself? Will I give? Or will I only take?

I will continue to put one foot in front of another. I will take each day as it comes. I will life on the Creator’s terms…not on my own.

Am I Strong…Enough?…or When a Therapist is Evil

I have been reminded of some things lately…things from almost four years ago. I tried to do something about it then, but the regulations in place at that time didn’t really allow for that. I was encouraged to go ahead and send in my story, but I was moving and shelved it for the time being. Now, it is all coming up again.

Actually, it has been coming up again. A few months ago, a friend pointed me to a site that just kind of threw it all in my face again. I know that was not her intent. She wanted me to see what was being written that had to do with what I went through. She wanted me to see what was being shared.

Talk about being triggered. As I read what others wrote…about ME…it was like being hit all over again. I know the truth. There are others who know the truth…including the real perps who did it all…or who took advantage of things that would have happened anyway and blamed me for them. However, I have friends (former?) out there who still think I tried to do serious harm to them…all because of someone impersonating me.

As I sit here, I want to cry…again…for the God only knows (literally) how manieth time. Life is hard enough without having this come up again. Yet…it needs to be done.

I have been working lately on reclaiming my online system name. I am tired of wondering if people will hear it and wonder if I am THAT **** who they had heard about and did all those horrible things. I am tired of being afraid. Those who have gotten to know me…know, when they hear the stories, that it could not possibly be me. They have seen my heart…and that kind of evil just isn’t there.

Oh, I know…there are those who try to say that anyone who is dissociative is capable of great evil. However, there are always indicators…signs of something else being there. I have none…have had none. My therapist at the time this all came down had been keeping a watchful eye over me for a few years…reading TONS of journaling. Nope…no indicators. She had been looking for them all that time and could find none.

There are therapists out there who lie and manipulate to get what they want. What is ironic is when they accuse others of doing what they, themselves do. Or…better yet, when their own clients write articles all about how perps work…and they are either too blind to see that they are describing their own therapist…or else…maybe they are a part of it.

I know it can rock your world to find out that your therapist is evil. My heart goes out to those still associated with her.  More and more I hear about the hurts this woman has caused and is causing. And some of  her clients, too. I guess it stands to reason that this woman is teaching her clients, especially her forum moderators, well. They are being just like her.

I know we live in a sin filled fallen world…yet it never ceases to amaze me just how hateful, spiteful, uncaring and downright mean some people can be. They need to get a life…a REAL life! One that is filled with unselfish purpose and joy. Even in the midst of my pain, I can still experience some joy and some peace.

Anyway…reclaiming my system name is a huge thing for me.  It is mine and reflects something about who I am. A good name is worth more than silver or gold. This is my reputation. I just wish that O would fess up to her part in all this. That would sure make the rest a lot easier. I also wish those who were behind the scenes at that time would open up and be willing to share.

So what timing. I am working on reclaiming my system name and others are actually filing complaints against this woman…and, from what I hear…not just clients. I am being asked to tell my story. I am sick of this woman hurting people. It really needs to stop. I need to do this. Am I strong enough? I know my strength can only come from Adonai. I will do this. I must do this. If not for myself…then for the others.

Abba, please help me!