Posts Tagged ‘survivor’

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It’s All About Trust…

January 14, 2013

Trusting that the Creator has a plan and that it is for our ultimate good.

Trusting that there is something better for us than this life.

Trusting that the Messiah’s love will continue to carry me through every storm of life.

Trusting that the Creator’s teachings are true and good…no matter how hard they may be or how my “self” chafes against them.

Trusting that He is G-d and I am not.

Trusting that my understanding is not infinite…that I am NOT all-knowing.

Trusting that I do not have to understand everything.

Trusting that my human sense of righteousness is not necessarily my Creator’s…mine is imperfect, while His is perfect.

Trusting that, like a child, I can trust my heavenly Abba/Father/Daddy…even when I do not understand.

Trusting that my Creator’s provision truly is enough for me.

Trusting that, when my Abba says “no”, it is for good reasons…even though I may not see those reasons now.

As I look at the list above, I see that trust is really tied a lot into understanding…or lack of understanding. There have been many times in my life when I thought and lived as a child. I wanted to understand like G-d (my Abba/Daddy) and I wanted to understand NOW. Just like the impetuous child who does not want to obey unless she fully understands (and agrees with) the why of the parent, I wanted to act and live on my own understanding and beliefs about how I thought life should be lived.

It took time, but I eventually outgrew my childishness…mostly. I still have my days, but they are much fewer and farther between…thankfully. Now I am better able to trust when I am walking through the mist…when I cannot see tomorrow. I am no longer afraid when things seem dark and I cannot see my way.

I am better able to remain calm and serene in the face of what appears to be “impending doom” because I have learned that things are not what they seem to be with the human eye and heart. I know that Abba has a bigger plan and that the ‘powers that be’ are going to crumble. I know things are going to get tougher in the world and in our country, but I am not afraid, for I know He walks with me.

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Being a Warrior and a Survivor…

November 29, 2012

I am a fighter…and I recognize that it is my Creator who gave me that ability to fight.

I am a survivor…and it is my Creator who brought me through all the hell to get to the wonderful place I am today.

I am filled with the Shalom of my Messiah Yeshua and it is His Ruach/Spirit that has helped me all along my healing journey.

I am a warrior, too. So, what is the difference between a fighter and a warrior? I think there is a lot. I started out as a fighter, fighting my way through what was going on in order to survive. I fought to be “sane” (whatever that means). I fought to make it through the day. I fought to stay alive. I fought to hide my true self from everyone around me. I fought to look “normal” so no one would know the truth. I fought and I fought and I fought, but it was a fighting that was based more upon instinctively swinging my “arms” to fend off an enemy.

Over time, though, I became a warrior. I went on the offensive. And that is when things really started to change. That is when the evil I was fighting really started to show itself for what it was…dark and malevolent. It was not that I did not see that before. It was not that I was not doing some warrior fighting before. But there came a time in my life when I had no choice but to come out swinging on the offensive. I had to for the safety of my youngest.

My battle to survive and just make it through life slowly transformed into a battle of fighting back until the fighting back became the main thing. After years of feeling as if I were struggling just to keep my head above water so I could breath, I slipped into years of taking ground. I started to fight for real healing.

There are some who decry the term “survivor”, as if that is somehow less than or as if it somehow holds us back. We must never use that term, but must instead call ourselves “thrivers”…or some other term to define who we are.

But I AM a survivor! I have survived horrendous things and made it out the end! I am PROUD of that. Being a survivor means they did not win! A cancer survivor is one who has conquered cancer. No one would ever think of telling him or her not to use that term! So, why is it not OK for us who have survived extreme abuse?

I am a survivor! I am alive! I am “sane”…well, I guess that may depend upon your definition of “sane”. I am smiling as I write that. I am HERE! I did not die. I did not end up in a mental ward. I did not end up in jail. I did not end up dead. I have a good marriage. I made it out of all the abuse. Yes, it took years to do. Yes, I am still partially amnesic. Yes, I have a lot of healing left to do. But I am ALIVE! I no longer answer to my abusers. Hallelu Yah!

I am both a survivor AND a thriver. You see, I don’t see it as an either/or kind of thing. I am both! And I am grateful. I can see the beauty in life and share it with others. Here is some of that beauty now.

 

 

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Life Is Good…

August 4, 2012

Life is good…I cannot complain. I am growing spiritually and some mighty big changes might be around the corner. Right now I am pretty tired and is late, but I just wanted to check in. I talking to my former therapist once a month. That feels good. It isn’t really therapy. In fact, I don’t know that it ever really has been. She was always an amazing, understanding support to me. It is nice to just be able to check in with her. I do still miss being able to see her. It always felt more like visiting with a mentor than it did seeing a therapist.

Life is good…I am slowly getting into a bit of a routine even though hubby works a really odd schedule that is practically no schedule at all. I pretty much get up around the same time every day…regardless of when I go to bed. That is a step in the right direction. Every once in a while I oversleep, but I think I am just catching up on my sleep from the nights when I don’t quite get enough.

Life is good…I am loved by my husband and children. I am loved by the L-rd G-d of Heaven and earth. I know who I am…even if I am still a bit amnesic. The amnesia does not really bother me. I know who I am. I know enough about what I have been through that the rest does not matter. I do admit that it still feels kind of weird not remembering living with my sister. But what I do remember does not encourage me to want to remember any more.

Life is good…my body seems to be healing. (I will claim that it is.) I am at peace with my G-d, with myself and with my fellow-man. Although there are some who have issue with me…I am OK with that. I am OK with seeing things differently. I am OK with agreeing to disagree. For me, disagreeing does not mean being disagreeable. It just means being different.

Life is good…my world may be changing in a big way again…soon. Although I am not a huge fan of change, there are changes that are very good. If this one happens…it will be very good.

Life is good…I feel my creativity is sparking up again. I like that. It is fun. I am being challenged in some areas and I am holding my own. That feels good. I am doing OK. Yay!

Life is good…I feel SAFE! I hope you do, too.

I hope that life is good for you, too.

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A New Study on Dissociative Identity Disorder

July 4, 2012

Scientists Are Beginning to Understand What Causes Multiple Personality Disorder

Fact or Factitious? A Psychobiological Study of Authentic and Simulated Dissociative Identity States

 

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More on Assumptions…and Getting Free…

February 6, 2011

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.

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As I Lay Me Down to Sleep

June 29, 2010

As I Lay Me Down to Sleep

As I lay me down to sleep
flashbacks in the mind release.
Pushing forward, images come
as I fight to not come undone.
My body tenses; I cannot breathe,
overwhelmed by what I “see”.
Morphing one image into another,
with silent screams of “no” in my head,
I try to be open to history’s unveiling,
fighting the urge to let the mists return.
But slowly it slips away from me again.
And in the morning I awake
with a new reality like a distant dream.
Is anything ever what it seems?

June 28, 2010

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