Archive for the ‘memories’ Category

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Remembering?

September 17, 2021

I like to do jigsaw puzzles on my tablet. Just now I was doing one of a deep red rose where the rose is almost the whole picture. I like to do the edges first.

As I was doing the edges, I noticed something didn’t feel quite right. It took me a couple minutes, but I figured it out. This rose has tiny water droplets all over it. In the little pieces, the deep dark red with the moistness of the water looks like inner organs of the body. Like flesh cut open.

When seen as a whole, all you see is a rose with tiny water droplets. But when seen as tiny little pieces, you don’t see a rose. And so the imagination can run wild. And the mind can make connections with memories.

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Interesting Developments…

September 11, 2021

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.

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Been thinking about…

September 5, 2012

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”…

 

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Yours, Mine and ????…

January 2, 2011

What am I talking about? Assumptions! Regarding: Experiences! Healing journeys! Therapy! Plus any other number of things that many of us go through.

So many times I see people making assumptions based upon their own experiences. They take what has happened to them and then project it onto others.

For example, I have run into some bad therapists. Based upon that, I could make the assumption that all therapists are bad. However, I know that is not the case because I was blessed to have had some good ones first. But what if the bad ones had been my first ones? I might never have even given a good one a try.

The reverse is also true. Before I ran into a bad therapist myself, I could have made the incorrect assumption that all therapists are good. Thankfully, I  knew better than that for I had heard of bad ones before I ran into any.

Another example of assumptions has to do with what happened with my father. When I was in high school, I kept getting a gut feeling that something had happened between my father and I, but I had no memories at that time of anything specific. My life was a mess, but I refused to allow that to cause me to assume anything specific had happened (as a way of explaining why I was such a mess). I wanted proof.

For several years I battled that feeling and grew weary of it. So, I told the L-rd that, unless He gave me the memories, I was going to shove aside my gut feeling…which I did. I pushed it aside and refused to even consider it. I was actually rather successful at it.

Later, when I was trying to get help, I was confronted with that gut feeling again. So, I prayed for the truth. I wanted to either have the memories of the incidents causing the gut feeling to be revealed or, if there were no underlying incidents causing the gut feeling, to have the gut feeling go away. I refused to make assumptions about my father and I.

As it turns out, the person I went to for help…for prayer help…was a mess himself. However, there were some things in my life that stopped after being prayed for. G-d did use him in His own way to help me. I used to have “visions” of walking into my apartment and seeing my husband and sons slaughtered and blood all over the place. That stopped. I used to “see” myself driving off embankments or being “pushed” down stairs by invisible forces. That stopped.

I also had four memory flashes while working with him.  Two were of molestation. Although I did not really want to believe, I knew they were true. And even though I could not see who it was…I “knew”. In my heart of hearts I knew, but I did not want to deal with it. So, I shoved it aside. I did not want to assume it was my father…not unless I clearly saw his face.

The other two made no sense to me. They were ritual abuse in nature, but at that time I was not familiar with ritual abuse and I had no inkling that I had that background.  He interpreted the flashes as non-memory. He said they were some kind of generational thing passed down from prior generations. That did not sound right to me. So, I just set them aside for the time being. I did not assume they were non-memories. I did not assume they were memories.

Later, it kept bugging me. I suspect it was because odd things were happening between my father and I…as an adult married woman. I just kept feeling like I needed to stop shoving this under the rug. So, I went to a woman who specialized in a prayer ministry. We prayed a lot and, with the help of the Holy Spirit, I was able to see more of the memory…enough to see my father’s shirt…and his face.

As it turns out, this woman was abused herself. I think that caused her to push me to confront my father…perhaps before I was ready. It was something I felt I needed to do…even though I was really nervous about it.

When I did confront my father, with my mother by his side, he never denied a thing. He only said that he did not remember doing anything like that. I thought that was an odd response. My mother readily agreed that something had happened to me. She was just wondering “who it could have been”.

I pointed out something my father had been doing in the more recent past that was boundary crossing. It was part of the oddness that had been going on between my father and me and had to do with kissing me on the mouth against my wishes. I had been ducking and making it clear with my body language that I was not comfortable with it.

My father acknowledged that he knew I was uncomfortable with it, but said that body language  was not enough. I had to verbally say it. My mother was furious with him at first, but then got quiet.

My father, when confronted with my memories, assumed that the counselor must have suggested them to me. As she pointed out to him, I had them before I came to her. He then assumed that I must have gained them via hypnosis or psychotropic drugs. I was never hypnotized and had not taken any psychotropic drugs. Then he assumed they were planted there by satan to try and break the family apart. Mind you, my family was never close anyway. The only thing it could break apart were the manipulations going on.

He gave me a whole stack of articles that he “just happened” to find in people’s houses that he was cleaning. He said that G-d had led him to them. They all dealt with the false idea of False Memory Syndrome…something never proven and not in any of the DSM’s.

I don’t think he really believed any of those things caused my memories. However, I did start taking a look at them. Nothing in those articles applied to me. Nothing. Nor I did fit the typical FMS profile of that time. I did not sue my parents. I did not file a police report. I did not go public. I did not act in any kind of vindictive way.  I did not even keep my sons from visiting with my parents. It simply became the subject not talked about…until about four years or so later.

When my youngest was three, my parents started to manipulate their way into living with us. Even my pastor, when he heard about the situation, thought it was very odd. I became very unstable and started to have suicidal ideations. I prayed and fought and it got better…until they actually moved in.

Then it got really bad. With my father up early and my mother up late, I had no time alone other than in my special room. They ended up spending more and more time with my son while I was being driven further into instability…an instability they were actually causing. They created a problem and then were there to “help”. I could take a whole book to share the kinds of manipulations that were going on.

It was not until they had been out of the house about a year that I got a more complete understanding. It was all about them having access to my son. They moved in the month he turned four. They assumed that they could eliminate me…either by suicide, hospitalization or simply my shutting down…and they would have complete access to my son. But G-d had a different plan!

More to come…

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My Sister

February 16, 2010

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.

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Ramblings About Memories, Light and Darkness

April 16, 2008

It is hard to explain how I feel. It is almost as if my head has been under water and I have been strugging for air…emotionally. I feel as if my head has suddenly popped above the water and I can, again, breathe deeply. It is as if I am experiencing a respite of sorts.

Oh, how I long for this to stay and not go away. But somewhere around me, I can feel something lurking in the shadows, or looking over my shoulder. I can sense it trying to wrap itself around my heart again…almost as if it were a physical thing. What is it? “It” is the way I have been feeling and living for about the last 8 years.

That is when things really started to hit for me…about 8 years ago. My life was turned upside down and it has been an adventure ever since. Some of that adventure has felt rather dark as I have had to come to terms with a history that was suddenly making itself known. Hidden secrets coming to the surface. Gaps in history slowing being filled in as the pieces are revealed…one by one..like a puzzle without a picture to follow, leaving few clues as to what the whole thing will look like.

It has been a struggle, but a worthwhile one. Sometimes I get a few moments of “sunshine” in the “darkness”. That is what I am feeling now. Yet, I can feel the darkness still there. It feels as if it is just waiting…biding its time…until it starts to sweep back in.

I want to try and put up a wall to keep it at bay…but I cannot. A large part of that darkness is simply my life story…more details yet to be revealed. I can no more wall out my own history than I can wall out the world.

I guess there is more than one way to look at it. I see my history as darkness flowing over me. Yet, as more of my history is revealed…well, that is actually the light piercing the dark shadowy realms of buried memories. It is taking what is currently in the dark and bringing them into the light.

This whole process of revelation feels dark…with the flashbacks and memories trying to come to the surface. Emotionally, it feels as if I am being sucked into a pit. Yet, the more light that shines in that pit…the more whole I can feel…the more I can know who I really am…the more I can see the woman Yahweh/God created me to be.

On the one hand, I have the experience of the memories revealing themselves in a non-emotional way. On the other hand…more recently, it is the emotional side of those memories that are coming out. What was mostly pictures in my head in between periods of disconnected deep emotional pain is now becoming pictures with emotional pain. The emotions…the body memories…the pictures…they are all slowly coming together to make a “whole”. A whole what? I don’t know…yet.

The ongoing effects of the abuse are also part of that shadowy place…that darkness. I know that healing can come. I also know that some of those effects are from the physical results of the abuse. Physical? Emotional? Spiritual? They are all intertwined. Each part of me effects, and is effected by, every other part. None are disconnected from each other.

So, here I sit, having enjoyed a wonderful most of my day…breathing deeply. Tomorrow will bring…? I don’t know. I hope it will bring more sunshine inside.

The sleep time is coming. Will I even be able to go to sleep without some kind of flashback…no matter how mild…taking place? **shrug**

I just keep praying that the light times will become more frequent again…and last longer…like they used to. I want to stay in the lighter realm. But can I heal there? Must I walk through the darkness to heal? It sure seems like it. But I pray it is not so.

Walking in the darkness can sometimes be so scary. I really do not think I could do if it were not for Yeshua/Jesus walking through it with me. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for You are with me. This is especially true for me when death programming has been triggered. Yet…He is always there…leading me, protecting me, guiding me. His Holy Spirit lives within me and helps me. Otherwise, I would not make it. I simply would not.

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