Dissociative Amnesia

I am pulling from several sites to explain/describe DA and I am adding my personal commentary to explain how I experience it. I am also underlining things that relate to me, personally.

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Dissociative amnesia is a condition in which a person becomes unable to remember events from a part of their life. It affects about one percent to three percent of people in the general population and has a few main forms that have different effects. Generally, people with dissociative amnesia remember new facts and how to perform daily activities. (Today is not the problem.)

Symptoms include memory loss that can vary in severity from details to entire gaps of time. (I am partially amnesic and only remember pieces of my childhood. I also can count on one hand the memories I have of my younger sister although we lived together for 10 years and I even have photos I took of her. I only remember her clearly after I moved out.) It also can result in a struggle with one’s identity, as well as experiencing a bewildered state of wandering, called a dissociative fugue. (I have not experienced fugue.)

The specific cause of dissociative amnesia is unknown but is strongly linked with having experienced some form of psychological trauma, especially as a child. Factors contributing to the development of dissociative amnesia include:

• Having a genetic predisposition: This may lead to the development of dissociative amnesia in some people. An example of a possible genetic influence is a variant in a gene involved with the neurotransmitter serotonin, which is involved in certain psychiatric disorders such as depression and anxiety.
• Having experienced psychological trauma: This is strongly associated with developing dissociative amnesia. Examples include childhood physical or sexual abuse, adult sexual assault, military combat, experiencing a natural disaster, or being subjected to torture. Repeated episodes of trauma, trauma of a longer duration, and trauma at an earlier age are all associated with a greater risk of developing dissociative amnesia. (I can add to the list of types of traumas mentioned here. As I have shared many times, I am a walking miracle. I am not supposed to be functioning or even alive. They had other plans for me.)

People with dissociative amnesia may not always regain their memories with treatment or may regain only some of their memories. In some cases, the person may not want to regain their memories, such as if the memories are from a painful event.  (I have had enough recall to know at least some of what is behind that veil.)

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Another way to explain it:

There are three types, or patterns, of dissociative amnesia:

• Localized: Memory loss affects specific areas of knowledge or parts of a person’s life, such as a certain period during childhood, or anything about a friend or coworker. (My sister in the same house.) Often the memory loss focuses on a specific trauma. For example, a crime victim may have no memory of being robbed at gunpoint, but can recall details from the rest of that day.
• Generalized: Memory loss affects major parts of a person’s life and/or identity, such as a being unable to recognize your name, job, family and friends. (On very rare occasions, I have had moments of confusion about current self/situation. But those are rare and very momentary. I always get right back on track. It has not effected my job.)
• Fugue: With dissociative fugue, the person has generalized amnesia and adopts a new identity. For example, one middle manager was passed over for promotion. He did not come home from work and was reported as missing by his family. He was found a week later, 600 miles away, living under a different name, working as a short-order cook. When found by the police, he could not recognize any family member, friend or coworker, and he could not say who he was or explain his lack of identification. (Again, not me. I have never experienced fugue.)

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My main experience with this is being partially amnesic about my sister and about my growing up. The abuse is very buried. I have had some memory recall about it, but a whole lot of it is still behind the veil of amnesia.

To have D.I.D. or not to have it?

My former therapist informed me it is not unusual for someone who “had” D.I.D. to feel like they are totally blended or integrated (there are various terms each with its own meaning according to the user of the term) and, yet, not be. Years and even decades later one can suddenly realize there are more splits/alters.

In my own system, I could see inside and watched as everyone walked into me and blended. All but one. That one has always been a question mark. Did she go silent and hide because it was time for her to do so? Or did she blend and I simply did not see it for some reason? Because I saw everyone else blend, I tend to think it is more likely the latter. Perhaps her job is not completed, but neither was it the time for her to do it. So, she has been waiting. Maybe.

The idea of having splits does not bother me, especially since I was not really a “time loser”. Or at least I wasn’t for the periods of my life I remember. I do know I lost time when I was accessed, but they did it in such a way that it was not obvious. There was seeming continuity, although the amount of time it took to do whatever I was doing was a bit long. When it was happening, I just wrote it off to losing track of time. Later, when I learned my true history, I began to believe I was actually losing time and it was due to being accessed.

Of course, being dissociative on lesser levels is always interesting and lends its uniqueness to the story. So, I just observe and wait to see what happens.

I see things–little things–and it makes me wonder. I will not be surprised at all if it turns out there are more. I am almost certain there are. It feels like it did in the beginning of this journey. I saw little indicators and believed it meant I was split but I did not know for sure until I had definitive proof. (I am pretty sure I described that somewhere in this blog.) Now, I am seeing indicators, but again, there is nothing definitive to be able to make me say one way or the other.

And then there is the question of Dar (Darlene). Where is she? There are times I have wished I could draw on her strength. Then again, I think I am. She was co-present and, if she is blended I have her strength. If she is not, her strength is still within me and I am sure she is helping me from behind the scenes like she did for many years before I even knew of the existence of that part of me.

It is easy to think of they and me. But really, we are all me. As someone said recently, we share the same brain. We also share the same body. Even our mind is shared, even if there are some barriers up inside. We are one. And yet that one is also a we. Or is it?

I am waiting and watching. I am sensing things and trying to interpret what I observe and what I sense. I am also now seeing a therapist who is familiar with D.I.D. and who has patients who are split. But, most importantly, although she is somewhat familiar with the concept of ritual abuse, she is not trained in it specifically. She feels safe. But I will always be watching, of course.

Interesting Developments…

Life is certainly interesting. My new job is part time, but has elements that can be rather stressful. I did not realize in what ways that might effect me. I knew, having CPTSD, that stress is felt more intensely than with regular folks, but it turns out there are other ways stress can effect me.

I have often said I am totally fine with being partially amnesic. I know enough about what is in there and I am really not interested in going there. What I did not consider is that I am putting a cap on my memory. Even though I am not “consciously” trying to do it, I AM spending energy on keeping it buried. It is happening automatically.

My job runs the gamut from very easy days to very stressful ones. Hopefully they all balance out with the average day being just right. The last couple of months I have had challenges that have made them extra stressful, especially one month in particular. There has been a huge learning curve, but I think I have managed to handle that fairly well. All things considered, I love my job and believe I am good at it.

What I did not consider is that the energy I have apparently been using to keep a cap on my memories got switched over to doing the stressful parts of my job. This allowed some things to start happening. I began to notice triggers and get flashbacks. None of them were the gut-wrenching kind, but they were noticeable nonetheless. Something is clearly happening. It did not hit me until yesterday about how the stress was causing the energy shift and how that might impact my memory burial.

For about a month I have been walking around with a knot in my gut. I felt as if I had lost my equilibrium and was struggling to get it back. Physically, I was doing fairly well. The EBV does not seem to be getting triggered, but I have been feeling tired and as if I was treading water and could not get back to swimming or back to shore. What was up with this? And then it hit me that I had been using energy to keep the memories down and now they were starting to pop up due to the energy diversion.

I very much believe in timing, that things happen when the time is best for them to happen, even when it does not feel like the best time.

This is not just about memories. It is also about whether or not I still have splits. My former therapist, D, tells me it is not unusual to feel as if one is totally integrated or blended and then discover there are more splits. This can happen even after decades. I know the level of the group most likely meant layer upon layer and level upon level of programming and, yes, splits.

For awhile now, I have had soft indicators of there possibly being more parts of me still separate. For starts, I don’t ever remember Dar blending. It is like she just went quiet. I assumed (hoped) she had blended, but did not see it happen like I did with all the others. I love all of me, but admit I miss Dar the most. For whatever reason, she was not triggered by the mom.

Then there are the buried memories. Although one can be integrated and still have buried memories (which I now question), the fact is I have not gained memories with integration. I gained memories with splits being healed and processing, but integration and blending did not bring more memories as is often the case. I have always wondered about that. Why are they still buried? Is someone holding them?

Lately, this has been on my mind a lot more. Do I have children who are holding the horror and need to be healed? I would never want to remain amnesic at the cost of some child part of me not being able to receive the love and healing so greatly deserved. So I have always been open to the possibility of there being more.

Over the last few months (since starting my job), I have been experiencing soft indicators. The sense of “coming to”, even though I was totally aware the whole time. No actual lost time, but still that sense of “coming to”. The triggers and flashbacks make me wonder if someone is remembering. And then there is the eating. I worked hard to lose the extra weight I was carrying and now I find myself eating just to eat. It feels as if I am eating emotionally, but with no real reason to. Is someone “else” eating emotionally and putting the weight back on? (That really needs to stop!)

What or who is holding the memories? I have been longing for some time for someone safe who can handle my sharing what I do remember and the bits and pieces that are also coming up with the triggers. I thought I had someone, but nope. Scared him off before we could even meet. But now things are changing and I am moving forward. Things are coming together.

I have been loosely connected to a domestic violence shelter and group. They have a sub organization that deals specifically with sexual violence, including trafficking. Through that connection, I have come to know some of the women who work there. I now have my own case manager from the sub part of the organization. She knows of a therapist who actually has clients with DID. She is not versed in ritual abuse, but did tell my case manager she believed she could be that person to help me process memories.

I have been meeting with my case manager for about a month and really appreciate it. I have my first appointment with the therapist in a couple of weeks. Yes, I have been nervous. The knot in my gut got worse when I made the appointment. I can sense something is happening inside and truly believe it is time to look at some things. I cannot ignore them any longer.

I also referred myself to a partner organization to get my own coach. I am a peer recovery coach, which is basically a life coach with an emphasis on recovery from substance issues. Although I do not feel I need one for the recovery aspect of it, I do need one for the rest of my life which is getting very chaotic, especially with the job and the soft indicators and the triggers and flashbacks. So next week, I finally have an appointment to meet with my coach and to do an intake for federal level grants. I hear that intake is pretty intensive and we will see how it goes. Can I handle it? Will I even be able to answer the questions?

On top of all that, I had a dream yesterday morning about an attempted accessing. Where that came from I don’t know. A program attempting to scare me away from getting help and moving forward? I would not be surprised in the least. I recently had a very strong program kick in designed to keep me away from support. It caused me to misinterpret people and keep me from feeling connected. It took a lot to break that one. The prior programs were easier to break.

So, it will be interesting to see what develops. Will Dar resurface? Will child parts come forward? I have had a desire to sleep with a stuffy. Where did that come from? There is a tiny little stuffy bear I used to be able to carry in my purse. I have not seen it for years. All of a sudden I keep seeing it in my mind and it is frustrating. I keep feeling as if I should be able to put my hand right on it, but I have no idea where it is. Did I give it to some child who needed one? I tend to not think so, but I cannot find it anywhere.

Since I only have soft indicators and nothing definitive of still having DID, I have decided to proceed as if I still do. I talk to my system (in case any part of me is still separate). I plan on getting another tiny stuffy. The likelihood of finding one just like the bear? No clue. I hope I can find something suitable because it seems as if it someone may need it.

I certainly did not expect to be in this place again, but here I am. It is all in Creator’s hands. I am open and willing to do the work. In the meantime, my bosses know what is going on and they know I am maxed out client wise. I am part time for a reason and they are very supportive of me. I am very grateful. And the knot in my stomach? It went away after talking with my bosses. I still feel a bit nervous, but nothing like I was. I hope it stays that way. I think being clear about the boundaries I need to have is really helping.

What Is Healing?

When I first started out on this last leg of my healing journey…the awareness of DID and the realization of some of what had happened to me (which was an “aha-now I understand” time)…I had an idea in mind of what healing looked like. For me, it meant that my hard work (with G-d’s help) was somehow going to reverse all that had been done to me and there would be a complete merging which I called “integration”. I looked at it like a broken bone or a sickness. I wanted to be restored to the condition prior to the break of illness…or to be made even better. After all, they say a broken bone that heals is stronger in the area of the break and will never break exactly there again. I wanted to be like pre-DID and trauma.

Looking back, I would have to say that I was pretty naive, but not in a bad way. I believed what I needed to believe in order to start the journey and do what needed to be done. There were things I did not yet understand about DID and how abuse affects the brain. There were also implications in my view of healing that I did not fully think through…implications that would later change my view of healing…and again…not in a bad way.

Initially, my goal was simply to work on whatever needed to be worked. If I needed to face a memory…so be it. If I needed to reach out to an insider…so be it. Whether it was writing, listening, sharing, art…I did it. I believed that if I just kept doing what I was doing that integration/merging would occur naturally. It would not have to be forced. And it pretty much did happen that way. As I focused on healing, integration and merging seemed to happen almost seamlessly and without any real effort. Some of it happened in huge chunks during several days I spent with a counselor at her home. I stayed with her twice and through days of prayer and working with insiders massive amounts of integration/merging happened.

Over time, I came to realize that not all of healing is as simple as that. Now, I believe that a huge part of healing is to simply live my life…enjoying it as best I can…and seeing the beauty around me in addition to seeing what is evil in the world. I walk in the Spirit of the Creator, trusting Him to show me whatever I need to see and to help me with whatever I need help with. He has always been my greatest Healer…my best therapist. And He has helped me see that my idea of what healing looks like was very faulty.

I know the Creator can do anything and I believe He could even make it like nothing had happened…but that is not real. Like so many others, I had to come to terms with a childhood I simply never had. It was not just a matter of putting the brain back to how it was originally created. All my childhood experiences shaped and affected my brain. Removing the effects of the negative experiences does not replace them with the positive effects of the good things that never happened!

I also realized that all those things that did happen a part of what make who I am today. And even with all my foibles and what I perceive as “weakness” and “brokenness”, I am a pretty awesome person. I am a walking miracle and I am doing pretty darn good considering all I have been through. So, part of healing is also accepting imperfect functionality.

So…maybe…healing is not about restoration (like a broken leg). Maybe it is more about learning to live as I am and celebrating the me I have become and the me I am becoming. Maybe it is more about giving myself the freedom to enjoy life now…without guilt and with less and less impact coming from the past. It is about accepting imperfect functionality. (What is “perfect”, anyway?) It is about learning not to compare myself to others…not my abilities, my weaknesses or my strengths. Every one of us has abilities of some kind; we just don’t all have the same ones. We all have weaknesses and we all have strengths, regardless of how healed or broken we are. It is about not comparing my healing journey to another’s. We all walk on different paths.

I know I still have more to learn, but I carry one thing with me on my learning/healing journey…one very important thing. I know the Creator of all things and I know who I am in my Creator. I know I can trust Him to continue to lead me. Whatever is ahead, He will help me to face it.

What is healing…

I am not really sure what healing looks like. I think it is different for each person. After years of looking at it, I still don’t have a solid definition, but I can share with you some things that sure look like healing for me.

Healing Is

Healing is being able to laugh…even in the midst of pain.

Healing is being able to cry…even when others are around.

Healing is being able to somewhat identify what I am feeling,
and hopefully…even being able to have an idea of WHY I am feeling it.

Healing is knowing when I need to decompress,
being able to identify safe places to decompress,
and then…doing it.

Healing is being able to sense whether a person or place is safe
And then being able to keep myself safe.

Healing is being able to find joy in life.

Healing is being able to see good things…even when bad things are happening.

Healing is being able to have gratitude for what I do have
rather than bemoaning what I don’t.

Healing is being able to be productive in some way every day
even if I am the only one who recognizes it.

Healing is being able to take a step forward,
no matter how tiny
and even if it is only in my heart.

Healing is being able to face some aspect of my past…without completely crumbling.

Healing is being able to recognize that some part of my history,
no matter how small or big,
no longer has a hold on me.

Healing is being able to make plans…and know that they might actually happen!

Healing is being able to say that I made it through
another minute,
another day,
another hour,
another week,
another month,
another year,
another anniversary,
another flashback,
another body memory,

Healing is having the freedom to fully unleash my creativity and
sing again,
play music again,
write again,
talk again,
share again.

Healing is being able to give without manipulation
and receive without manipulation
even more importantly… recognizing the difference.

Healing is being to allow myself to truly love
and open myself to the potential for heartache without fear,
knowing that I can rise above anything that happens.

Healing is allowing myself to trust others
and being trustworthy myself.

Healing is giving myself permission to live life to the fullest
without thinking much about healing or hurting or my history.
It is allowing myself to temporarily “forget” that I even have an abusive history.

Healing is knowing that I was a victim who dared to survive
and am now a survivor who dares to thrive.

Healing is being able to put words to my experiences,
words like
“rape”
and “sexual abuse”
and “incest”
and “satanic ritual abuse”.
And healing is to put them without capital letters because
I am bigger and taller and stronger than they are
and I refuse to give them capital letter power in my life.

Healing is being able to cry and know that I am OK
and everything will be alright.

Healing is being able to see my Creator’s love for me
even when I know I don’t deserve it.

Healing is being able to see His hand in my life…even during the most awful of experiences.

Healing is being able to see His protection and how He got me through.

I may think of more things to add to that list. As I do, I may edit

Been thinking about…

One of my sons has been creating a list of the places he has lived. He wants to write a “tell all”, which he tells me he will redact before he lets anyone else read it. In the process of helping him to pinpoint exact addresses, I did some Google searching.

Wow! Talk about being able to see the houses, up front and close. You can see overhead and you can see from the street. I was able to get all the addresses, but one. That one I nailed down to one or two possibilities, though.

The places we lived hold a lot of emotions and memories for me. So, to say it was a bit difficult at times is a bit of an understatement. As I “went” to place after place, I thought of people and events that happened in those place. Of all the places I “visited”, though, one really holds a mystery.

We used to live in an apartment. Someone took me for a drive one late afternoon up into the hills behind the house. I remember going through the trees and on the windy road for a while. I think I remember him asking me about going somewhere. I believe he also asked me if I was thirsty. Bingo! I suspect I was slipped one of those drugs that causes you to forget…a date rape drug.

The next thing I remember is that, all of a sudden, it was dark and I had no idea where we were. We were still (?) in the car and I remember commenting on the fact that it was dark and wondering when it got dark. I asked where we were and he told me. We were a lot farther from home than I had intended to go. He said he wanted to go on to a town I knew for dinner, but I just wanted to go home. He told me that we were not far from the freeway and I told him to take me home. All I could think of was getting home to my children ASAP.

He did take me home. My children were OK, although they were wondering where I had been. I had said something to them about going for a drive, but I did NOT expect to be gone so long and I certainly did not know that “dinner” was part of the drive. Nor did I know about whatever it was that happened during the blackout time.

The next day, I received a huge bouquet of red roses at work. It came with a note that said something about being sorry. And that was it. We never spoke again. The upside is that, when I heard there were roses for me at the front desk, I thought they came from someone else. The disappointment I felt when they did not, woke me up to the fact that I had grown to love the man who later became my husband. So sweet came out of oddity and blessing out of the weirdness.

My focus switched so much away from the drive that I never really did put things together until years later. It finally became obvious that something had happened and that I must have been slipped something. Either that, or he knew programming. He was an alcoholic, which means the cult could easily manipulate him. But I know he really did like me. He even wanted to marry me. So, I think the apology was sincere. It is just that he never told me what it was for…naturally.

Was it date rape? Was it a cult accessing and he was the one to get me there? Was he in the cult (although I do doubt that)? I don’t know and, at this late date (almost 20 years later), I suppose it does not really matter. It was just the last couple of days of  “been thinking about”…

 

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.

Edit: Next post on this subject is here.

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.