February 17, 2010
A Part Is Born
Well, I was going to write about eugenics and explore "what if I had never been born" for the birthday-themed Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse this month.
TRIGGER WARNING! Some examples of dissociative outbursts and child abuse ahead. Please stay safe.
But, I had what felt like a set-back the other day. I got really triggered and reacted violently. I spent almost a whole day disparaging myself and even had some self-harm return. I tried so hard to pull myself back, but felt so out of control. I pulled out every grounding trick in the book. I did grounding exercises I haven't even thought of in years. But, it still took me about 24 hours to feel like myself again.
I was really disappointed because I allowed some behaviors to come out that I thought I had contracted against with various parts. I've discovered--and begun to work with--two new parts in the last few weeks. Maybe this is yet another new part who has no such contract with me. I'm not sure.
This got me wondering. Just how is a part "born" anyway? Mine seem to have come about for a whole plethora of reasons. Some are like full-fledged personalities and have tried to run away and start their own lives or have pushed me aside and tried to live life their own way with me out of the way, so to speak.
Some parts have very well-defined roles. Many of these roles are quite dysfunctional for my life now, so I've had to define and assign new roles to some parts. Other parts are what my T refers to as "partial splits," without much of a fleshed-out personality of their own at all. These splits seem to have come about for very specific, time-limited functions designed to keep me alive in my childhood's life-threatening situations.
For example, the first part I ever heard of by name--this was three years ago--was Nina. I was told she "comes out when we're in the shower." If you've ever read the account on my dot com site called, "A Fear Of Plastic Shower Curtains," You can understand why my helpless child self might have wanted to create a part just to take over when I need to take a shower. I haven't worked specifically with Nina via any kind of dialogue, but I have done EMDR on the shower torture incidents and I've done a lot of comforting and self-care work in therapy around this daily hygiene challenge.
In the very first chapter of The Dissociative Identity Disorder Sourcebook, Deborah Bray Haddock explains, "In systems where extreme splitting occurs, clients report a host of personality fragments created to do specific tasks, such as cooking, cleaning the house or going to school. Once the task is performed, the fragment becomes inactive."
In the book, The Haunted Self: Structural Dissociation and the Treatment of Chronic Traumatization, the authors talk about "a fragment that has only a minimal set of response patterns to stimuli, life history, and range of emotion/affect but has knowledge for a short period of time." They go on to say that the actions of some of these fragments are very specialized. "Some...have a very specific purpose during traumatization."
In my case, I have another split or fragment, that I don't have a name for, who came about for the sole purpose of helping me hold my breath for a long time when my father would try to drown me in the bath water. I don't know much about these partial splits or fragments, but it makes sense to me that they would not be very developed if their survival purpose was quite distinct and unique to specific situations that I don't repeatedly come across throughout the day as I go about the business of life.
Then, I have some parts who I have named--or labeled--to match their functions. These functions are more broad than the two I've just mentioned, but still don't lead these labeled parts to control the body for any great length of time. There's Sentry, who I first started getting cooperation with in March of 2007. He was a great help to me when some creep followed me on the streets of Chicago once. Sentry is not afraid to get in any one's face in order to protect me. Unfortunately, he was getting up in peoples faces in inappropriate ways that didn't match present-day situations. So, I had to contract with him to stay located in an internal lighthouse and only "come to the rescue" if some stranger approaches me in a dark parking lot, or something like that.
I have another part I call Serena. But, she's not so much serene as she is still. That is, literally, her role: She keeps the body still so that there can be no self-harm or suicide attempts. I haven't felt her around much lately, but I sure coulda used her the other day when I slapped myself in the face seven or eight times. Luckily, I was able to stop myself rather quickly and vowed to engage in no further self-injury, even without any obvious help from Serena.
Whether my part splits are currently helpful in my day-to-day life, or the actions of these fragments are now dysfunctional for me as an adult living in a safe environment, I'm glad I'm learning about them. For a while, I was convinced that unless I found a part who had a high degree of autonomy and emancipation, I wasn't dealing with dissociated pieces of myself. This is one of the reasons why the "Man, I must be crazy" attitude persisted with me for such a long time.
If you are a dissociative child abuse survivor who is uncovering less complex personality fragments and doubting your diagnosis (or your sanity), I encourage you to read the two books I've mentioned in this post. There's a reason why even your smallest, simplest parts were "born" and you very well may be alive today because of them. So, even if I don't have a name for one of these partial personality fragments, I still make it a point to thank them. They helped keep me safe, they helped me stay sane.
TRIGGER WARNING! Some examples of dissociative outbursts and child abuse ahead. Please stay safe.
But, I had what felt like a set-back the other day. I got really triggered and reacted violently. I spent almost a whole day disparaging myself and even had some self-harm return. I tried so hard to pull myself back, but felt so out of control. I pulled out every grounding trick in the book. I did grounding exercises I haven't even thought of in years. But, it still took me about 24 hours to feel like myself again.
I was really disappointed because I allowed some behaviors to come out that I thought I had contracted against with various parts. I've discovered--and begun to work with--two new parts in the last few weeks. Maybe this is yet another new part who has no such contract with me. I'm not sure.
This got me wondering. Just how is a part "born" anyway? Mine seem to have come about for a whole plethora of reasons. Some are like full-fledged personalities and have tried to run away and start their own lives or have pushed me aside and tried to live life their own way with me out of the way, so to speak.
Some parts have very well-defined roles. Many of these roles are quite dysfunctional for my life now, so I've had to define and assign new roles to some parts. Other parts are what my T refers to as "partial splits," without much of a fleshed-out personality of their own at all. These splits seem to have come about for very specific, time-limited functions designed to keep me alive in my childhood's life-threatening situations.
For example, the first part I ever heard of by name--this was three years ago--was Nina. I was told she "comes out when we're in the shower." If you've ever read the account on my dot com site called, "A Fear Of Plastic Shower Curtains," You can understand why my helpless child self might have wanted to create a part just to take over when I need to take a shower. I haven't worked specifically with Nina via any kind of dialogue, but I have done EMDR on the shower torture incidents and I've done a lot of comforting and self-care work in therapy around this daily hygiene challenge.
In the very first chapter of The Dissociative Identity Disorder Sourcebook, Deborah Bray Haddock explains, "In systems where extreme splitting occurs, clients report a host of personality fragments created to do specific tasks, such as cooking, cleaning the house or going to school. Once the task is performed, the fragment becomes inactive."
In the book, The Haunted Self: Structural Dissociation and the Treatment of Chronic Traumatization, the authors talk about "a fragment that has only a minimal set of response patterns to stimuli, life history, and range of emotion/affect but has knowledge for a short period of time." They go on to say that the actions of some of these fragments are very specialized. "Some...have a very specific purpose during traumatization."
In my case, I have another split or fragment, that I don't have a name for, who came about for the sole purpose of helping me hold my breath for a long time when my father would try to drown me in the bath water. I don't know much about these partial splits or fragments, but it makes sense to me that they would not be very developed if their survival purpose was quite distinct and unique to specific situations that I don't repeatedly come across throughout the day as I go about the business of life.
Then, I have some parts who I have named--or labeled--to match their functions. These functions are more broad than the two I've just mentioned, but still don't lead these labeled parts to control the body for any great length of time. There's Sentry, who I first started getting cooperation with in March of 2007. He was a great help to me when some creep followed me on the streets of Chicago once. Sentry is not afraid to get in any one's face in order to protect me. Unfortunately, he was getting up in peoples faces in inappropriate ways that didn't match present-day situations. So, I had to contract with him to stay located in an internal lighthouse and only "come to the rescue" if some stranger approaches me in a dark parking lot, or something like that.
I have another part I call Serena. But, she's not so much serene as she is still. That is, literally, her role: She keeps the body still so that there can be no self-harm or suicide attempts. I haven't felt her around much lately, but I sure coulda used her the other day when I slapped myself in the face seven or eight times. Luckily, I was able to stop myself rather quickly and vowed to engage in no further self-injury, even without any obvious help from Serena.
Whether my part splits are currently helpful in my day-to-day life, or the actions of these fragments are now dysfunctional for me as an adult living in a safe environment, I'm glad I'm learning about them. For a while, I was convinced that unless I found a part who had a high degree of autonomy and emancipation, I wasn't dealing with dissociated pieces of myself. This is one of the reasons why the "Man, I must be crazy" attitude persisted with me for such a long time.
If you are a dissociative child abuse survivor who is uncovering less complex personality fragments and doubting your diagnosis (or your sanity), I encourage you to read the two books I've mentioned in this post. There's a reason why even your smallest, simplest parts were "born" and you very well may be alive today because of them. So, even if I don't have a name for one of these partial personality fragments, I still make it a point to thank them. They helped keep me safe, they helped me stay sane.
Labels: aftermath, alters, birthdays, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, child abuse, dissociation, mapping, memory work, parts, self-care, torture, trauma, triggers
November 05, 2009
Therapy Marathon
Well, I'm back home and I feel like my intense therapy week last week went well. In addition to the 4 1/2 hours of therapy time, I was able to indulge in some pampering and self-care, as well as time to get some extra work done. I worked on a healing-related poem, I did a ton of reading and journaling, and I worked on some self-love affirmations. The affirmations exercise is one that my sister shared with me from the WIIT program. It's supposed to defuse negative brain-washing messages. (I may share some of that sometime later.)
In addition, this time focused on my healing gave me the push I needed to admit I needed something to help me sleep. I was starting to feel very run down from lack of sleep and poor sleep with nightmares, etc. So I went into the doctor and got a prescription for Trazadone. It's helping me a lot! I hope I won't have to be on it long, but I'm glad it's there for support when I need to be at least a notch above zombie level.
Now that I'm back, things are mixed, as life always is. Today I'm home with a sick kid (again!). But, I missed my son after being away for a five days and I'm glad to spend more time with him. When he's sick is about the only time that he really lets me snuggle him and love on him anymore. He acts like he's already 15 or something! LOL ;)
The biggest thing I'm excited about at this very moment is the fact that I rebooted my computer and ran some scans on it and then got Firefox working on it again. Hooray! It's the first time I've been able to use Firefox on my computer for about a month! So, I'm able to do this new blog post easily, and maybe I'll get around to some other blogs today.
I'm feeling a little anxious about my birthday this weekend. But, I've been very assertive and have asked for exactly what I want for my birthday. We're going to a brunch on Sunday, as a family, assuming we're all healthy. Then, in the evening, my husband got us the tickets I wanted for a live comedy show. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine sometimes.
My son provides some comic relief for me quite often. He's such a little card! I'm continuing some extra therapy right now. After a tough session yesterday afternoon, I picked him up from school with tears still in my eyes. It wasn't long, however, before he had me in stitches with some silly story he was telling in his animated way. I love him so much! I'm so glad that I was able to have a child and we've been able to keep him safe...and he knows how much he's loved.
As for my inner children, I'm continuing to do double therapy weeks until further notice. I'm on the verge of uncovering some issues that need to be processed from the two-year black hole I have always had in my childhood memories. I can remember so much from Kindergarten--and then again from third grade, but I virtually remember nothing about first grade and completely nothing about second grade. I can't even say I remember my teacher, what the classroom looked like or anything. Let alone what happened with me personally. So, I'm standing on a scary precipice. But, I just keep climbing. All you survivors out there: Let's just keep climbing!
In addition, this time focused on my healing gave me the push I needed to admit I needed something to help me sleep. I was starting to feel very run down from lack of sleep and poor sleep with nightmares, etc. So I went into the doctor and got a prescription for Trazadone. It's helping me a lot! I hope I won't have to be on it long, but I'm glad it's there for support when I need to be at least a notch above zombie level.
Now that I'm back, things are mixed, as life always is. Today I'm home with a sick kid (again!). But, I missed my son after being away for a five days and I'm glad to spend more time with him. When he's sick is about the only time that he really lets me snuggle him and love on him anymore. He acts like he's already 15 or something! LOL ;)
The biggest thing I'm excited about at this very moment is the fact that I rebooted my computer and ran some scans on it and then got Firefox working on it again. Hooray! It's the first time I've been able to use Firefox on my computer for about a month! So, I'm able to do this new blog post easily, and maybe I'll get around to some other blogs today.
I'm feeling a little anxious about my birthday this weekend. But, I've been very assertive and have asked for exactly what I want for my birthday. We're going to a brunch on Sunday, as a family, assuming we're all healthy. Then, in the evening, my husband got us the tickets I wanted for a live comedy show. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine sometimes.
My son provides some comic relief for me quite often. He's such a little card! I'm continuing some extra therapy right now. After a tough session yesterday afternoon, I picked him up from school with tears still in my eyes. It wasn't long, however, before he had me in stitches with some silly story he was telling in his animated way. I love him so much! I'm so glad that I was able to have a child and we've been able to keep him safe...and he knows how much he's loved.
As for my inner children, I'm continuing to do double therapy weeks until further notice. I'm on the verge of uncovering some issues that need to be processed from the two-year black hole I have always had in my childhood memories. I can remember so much from Kindergarten--and then again from third grade, but I virtually remember nothing about first grade and completely nothing about second grade. I can't even say I remember my teacher, what the classroom looked like or anything. Let alone what happened with me personally. So, I'm standing on a scary precipice. But, I just keep climbing. All you survivors out there: Let's just keep climbing!
Labels: birthdays, breaking the cycle, healing, inner child, medication, Poetry, self-care, self-love, therapy
November 05, 2007
It's My Birthday and I'll Laze if I Want To!
Whew! Between the quickie carnival and some really intense therapy, October was an exhausting month. Now, I just don't feel like doing much of anything productive. A case of the guilts always immediately sets in when I feel like this. I used to be so focused on "earning my keep" so I could deserve to be alive. But, ya know what? I've worked my ass off and I deserve to rest a while! :P
Sometimes I remind myself that, in addition to being a sex slave and my mother's personal hand servant when I was a kid, I started working outside the home when I was only 11 years old. This is the age when I started cleaning houses and doing a lot of babysitting. I had a "real job" in a restaurant at 15. Sometimes I think, "Jeez, if I never work again, that would be my right!"
I'll be taking Thursday--my birthday--totally off, just to do fun, pampering stuff for my self(ves). Pretty soon, though, I want to do an "update" post on some of the therapy work that's been pretty darn productive in the last month.
I'm also in the process of organizing a list of blog carnival hosts for the next six months. Since most of the e-mails I've received from would-be first-time hosts have expressed a desire to wait to host until at least February or March of the new year, I'm going to go ahead and let a couple of repeat hosts repeat for November and December. If any first-time hosts would rather step in for those months (I know they are holiday months--yikes!) just let me know ASAP. If I've missed anybody's e-mail, I apologize. My dot com site e-mail was all wacko for a few days--I got blog carnival submissions in my junk mail folder and then all incoming mail was saying it was received in August--weird!
Sending safe hugs and healing vibes to all of you bloggy friends out there! Take gentle care.
Sometimes I remind myself that, in addition to being a sex slave and my mother's personal hand servant when I was a kid, I started working outside the home when I was only 11 years old. This is the age when I started cleaning houses and doing a lot of babysitting. I had a "real job" in a restaurant at 15. Sometimes I think, "Jeez, if I never work again, that would be my right!"
I'll be taking Thursday--my birthday--totally off, just to do fun, pampering stuff for my self(ves). Pretty soon, though, I want to do an "update" post on some of the therapy work that's been pretty darn productive in the last month.
I'm also in the process of organizing a list of blog carnival hosts for the next six months. Since most of the e-mails I've received from would-be first-time hosts have expressed a desire to wait to host until at least February or March of the new year, I'm going to go ahead and let a couple of repeat hosts repeat for November and December. If any first-time hosts would rather step in for those months (I know they are holiday months--yikes!) just let me know ASAP. If I've missed anybody's e-mail, I apologize. My dot com site e-mail was all wacko for a few days--I got blog carnival submissions in my junk mail folder and then all incoming mail was saying it was received in August--weird!
Sending safe hugs and healing vibes to all of you bloggy friends out there! Take gentle care.
Labels: birthdays, blog carnivals, child abuse, child labor, self-care, therapy
March 01, 2006
Sexual Abuse Survivors--Today is Self-Injury Awareness Day
Today, March 1st, is Self-Injury Awareness Day (SIAD). It is one of the major projects of the ASHIC, American Self-Harm Information Clearinghouse, www.selfinjury.org. The clearinghouse website debunks many of the myths surrounding self-injury (SI), also known as self-harm or self-mutilation. I've got some more SI links for you after my story.
I'm writing a new section of my survivor story. What a journey it has been. "What a long, strange trip it's been," the Grateful Dead sang. Indeed, it has been. I've started a new page on my website, www.survivorscanthrive.com, called "Strange Trip." You can find it under "My Story."
Since today is Self-Injury Awareness Day, I guess it's time to come clean about my own experience with SI. I have only indulged in this particular form of harming myself a handful of times. It's been the same every time. Always on the alert for any visible sign that might prove to others that I'm crazy, I've kept it well-hidden. I've always been afraid that someone's going to find out that I'm just as whacko as my father and lock me away. Therefore, I have never cut. I have always scratched and I've always done it somewhere that would not be very noticeable.
Hell, while we're discussing things that I'm ashamed of, I might as well weave my SI story into the time when I felt like I was abandoning my son. You see, during the most intense phases of my recovery work--when I was doing trauma processing with my therapist twice a week--I needed to have a safe place to get away and stay. I was sleeping at an extended stay suite at the time. I had my reasons for doing this.
My son, who has always been a very intense child, has sensory integration dysfunction. This leads to a lot of discomfort with strong reactions such as loud crying, screeching and yelling. During this period, this type of behavior from my son would launch me into full-blown flashbacks where I was witnessing the horror of my beloved, little twin sister being tortured and there was nothing I could do about it. At this time, my son's screams became the pleading, begging and whimpering of my sister. I just had to have a place of escape, where I could get grounded and keep safe.
During my time in the suite, I got a lot of therapy homework and exercises done, as well as much reading, research and writing of my book. (It will be published some day.) It was a productive time. It was also an excruciatingly lonely time for me.
One day, I felt particularly lonely and unloved. It happened to be my birthday. I was going to go to the house for a visit later on in the evening of my birthday anyway, so I decided to drive down a bit early. I remembered that my husband and my son had a play to go to or some such event. But, I reasoned, I could visit and play with my son and while they'd be gone, I could hang out, use the Internet access and celebrate when they returned.
When I arrived, I let myself into the house and announced, "Hey, I'm here!" No response. The house was very quiet, but I knew somebody was home. I peered into the kitchen. There were my husband and son sitting at the kitchen table. David appeared to be giving our son another lecture. They both looked up at me, but neither offered a greeting or got up to meet me. I could almost hear my heart drop, "Clunk!"
I glanced around the kitchen. There were no flowers, wrapped presents, balloons, or cute, little hand-made things from my young son. Nothing. I pretended I needed to go to the bathroom. I looked further around the house. I feigned thirst. I looked in the fridge. Nope. No cake in there either. There were no signs to indicate that they had any birthday celebrating planned. What?! Had they forgotten that it was my birthday? I felt lower than low. I felt completely unloved, alone and unlovable.
I went and hid in the bathroom (I did this a lot in my heavy dissociation days). I stayed there while the guys left for their event. Maybe they would grab some flowers and a little cake from the grocery store while they were out. No! I decided that would be too little, too late. I began to scream at myself while I hit myself in the head with the heel of my hand (another form of SI). "Stupid!" I yelled. "I am stupid and nobody loves me!" I decided I didn't want my son to see me go psycho. I also felt sure that he was better off without me.
I ran for the car and sped away. Luckily, this time, I did not run away; I didn't have to (my husband was paying for the hotel, my safe place). I went straight back to my little lonely suite. I did not bother to turn on any lights. I went into the bedroom and flung myself onto the floor in a dark, safe corner. There I stayed for a long time, curled up in the fetal position and rocking myself. I didn't want to feel anything. I wanted to disappear.
But, the negative self-talk that went on in my head was ruthless. The dark, the rocking, the safe corner, nothing could keep it at bay. It kept repeating mean things like, "Nobody loves you. You're not worth loving. You don't deserve to be happy."
After an unknown amount of time passed, I began to scratch. I found a place on my neck, under my hair and just below the hairline. I scratched rhythmically as I continued to rock myself. I scratched and scratched until I felt the warm, wet blood on my fingertips. "There, see?" I told myself. "I do bleed. I am alive. I matter...at least this much." This seemed to make the ruthless chatter subside.
After a while, I got up out of my corner to go to the bathroom. I turned on the light and saw the dried blood crusted under my fingernails. I immediately felt ashamed and shitty about myself. But, it was still better than how I had felt before I drew blood from my neck.
This was my last SI incident. It was over two years ago. This is my first detailed communication about it. I tried to tell someone about the SI once when I was hospitalized for my PTSD, but the person didn't take the time to listen. I looked at the note in my chart. It said, "Breaks her fingernails." I wanted to scream at this imbecile, "No! I use my fingernails to scratch my skin until I bleed!" I felt unheard and invalidated. I never attempted to broach the SI subject again.
Fortunately, the trauma processing I've done over the last couple of years seems to have targeted some of the old feelings of being worthless and invisible. I think that has carried over to my SI because I've had no temptation at all to do it. I hope that temptation never comes back.
Here are those SI links I promised. Two of the largest SI resources on the web are from the UK. The Self-Injury International Internet Service, www.siari.com.uk, says its the "largest self-injury resource on the web." Life SIGNS, www.lifesigns.org.uk, offers self-injury guidance and network support.
At the website www.psyke.org, you can find an SI forum with over 4,000 registered users. You can also post personal stories and poetry there. Recover Your Life, www.recoveryourlife.com, has an even larger forum, with over 7,000 members. This site offers live chat and live assistance and a first aid guide. You can also post biographies, artwork, photos, poetry and lyrics there.
I do not see self-injury as being the same thing as attempts at suicide. This suicide prevention site, however, has a large SI resource area. The organization is called Befrienders at www.befrienders.org. Their motto: "Reduce suicide worldwide with 31,000 volunteers in 40 countries." Suicide is an issue for survivors, whether they self-harm or not. So, I post this site here.
Copyright 2006 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
I'm writing a new section of my survivor story. What a journey it has been. "What a long, strange trip it's been," the Grateful Dead sang. Indeed, it has been. I've started a new page on my website, www.survivorscanthrive.com, called "Strange Trip." You can find it under "My Story."
Since today is Self-Injury Awareness Day, I guess it's time to come clean about my own experience with SI. I have only indulged in this particular form of harming myself a handful of times. It's been the same every time. Always on the alert for any visible sign that might prove to others that I'm crazy, I've kept it well-hidden. I've always been afraid that someone's going to find out that I'm just as whacko as my father and lock me away. Therefore, I have never cut. I have always scratched and I've always done it somewhere that would not be very noticeable.
Hell, while we're discussing things that I'm ashamed of, I might as well weave my SI story into the time when I felt like I was abandoning my son. You see, during the most intense phases of my recovery work--when I was doing trauma processing with my therapist twice a week--I needed to have a safe place to get away and stay. I was sleeping at an extended stay suite at the time. I had my reasons for doing this.
My son, who has always been a very intense child, has sensory integration dysfunction. This leads to a lot of discomfort with strong reactions such as loud crying, screeching and yelling. During this period, this type of behavior from my son would launch me into full-blown flashbacks where I was witnessing the horror of my beloved, little twin sister being tortured and there was nothing I could do about it. At this time, my son's screams became the pleading, begging and whimpering of my sister. I just had to have a place of escape, where I could get grounded and keep safe.
During my time in the suite, I got a lot of therapy homework and exercises done, as well as much reading, research and writing of my book. (It will be published some day.) It was a productive time. It was also an excruciatingly lonely time for me.
One day, I felt particularly lonely and unloved. It happened to be my birthday. I was going to go to the house for a visit later on in the evening of my birthday anyway, so I decided to drive down a bit early. I remembered that my husband and my son had a play to go to or some such event. But, I reasoned, I could visit and play with my son and while they'd be gone, I could hang out, use the Internet access and celebrate when they returned.
When I arrived, I let myself into the house and announced, "Hey, I'm here!" No response. The house was very quiet, but I knew somebody was home. I peered into the kitchen. There were my husband and son sitting at the kitchen table. David appeared to be giving our son another lecture. They both looked up at me, but neither offered a greeting or got up to meet me. I could almost hear my heart drop, "Clunk!"
I glanced around the kitchen. There were no flowers, wrapped presents, balloons, or cute, little hand-made things from my young son. Nothing. I pretended I needed to go to the bathroom. I looked further around the house. I feigned thirst. I looked in the fridge. Nope. No cake in there either. There were no signs to indicate that they had any birthday celebrating planned. What?! Had they forgotten that it was my birthday? I felt lower than low. I felt completely unloved, alone and unlovable.
I went and hid in the bathroom (I did this a lot in my heavy dissociation days). I stayed there while the guys left for their event. Maybe they would grab some flowers and a little cake from the grocery store while they were out. No! I decided that would be too little, too late. I began to scream at myself while I hit myself in the head with the heel of my hand (another form of SI). "Stupid!" I yelled. "I am stupid and nobody loves me!" I decided I didn't want my son to see me go psycho. I also felt sure that he was better off without me.
I ran for the car and sped away. Luckily, this time, I did not run away; I didn't have to (my husband was paying for the hotel, my safe place). I went straight back to my little lonely suite. I did not bother to turn on any lights. I went into the bedroom and flung myself onto the floor in a dark, safe corner. There I stayed for a long time, curled up in the fetal position and rocking myself. I didn't want to feel anything. I wanted to disappear.
But, the negative self-talk that went on in my head was ruthless. The dark, the rocking, the safe corner, nothing could keep it at bay. It kept repeating mean things like, "Nobody loves you. You're not worth loving. You don't deserve to be happy."
After an unknown amount of time passed, I began to scratch. I found a place on my neck, under my hair and just below the hairline. I scratched rhythmically as I continued to rock myself. I scratched and scratched until I felt the warm, wet blood on my fingertips. "There, see?" I told myself. "I do bleed. I am alive. I matter...at least this much." This seemed to make the ruthless chatter subside.
After a while, I got up out of my corner to go to the bathroom. I turned on the light and saw the dried blood crusted under my fingernails. I immediately felt ashamed and shitty about myself. But, it was still better than how I had felt before I drew blood from my neck.
This was my last SI incident. It was over two years ago. This is my first detailed communication about it. I tried to tell someone about the SI once when I was hospitalized for my PTSD, but the person didn't take the time to listen. I looked at the note in my chart. It said, "Breaks her fingernails." I wanted to scream at this imbecile, "No! I use my fingernails to scratch my skin until I bleed!" I felt unheard and invalidated. I never attempted to broach the SI subject again.
Fortunately, the trauma processing I've done over the last couple of years seems to have targeted some of the old feelings of being worthless and invisible. I think that has carried over to my SI because I've had no temptation at all to do it. I hope that temptation never comes back.
Here are those SI links I promised. Two of the largest SI resources on the web are from the UK. The Self-Injury International Internet Service, www.siari.com.uk, says its the "largest self-injury resource on the web." Life SIGNS, www.lifesigns.org.uk, offers self-injury guidance and network support.
At the website www.psyke.org, you can find an SI forum with over 4,000 registered users. You can also post personal stories and poetry there. Recover Your Life, www.recoveryourlife.com, has an even larger forum, with over 7,000 members. This site offers live chat and live assistance and a first aid guide. You can also post biographies, artwork, photos, poetry and lyrics there.
I do not see self-injury as being the same thing as attempts at suicide. This suicide prevention site, however, has a large SI resource area. The organization is called Befrienders at www.befrienders.org. Their motto: "Reduce suicide worldwide with 31,000 volunteers in 40 countries." Suicide is an issue for survivors, whether they self-harm or not. So, I post this site here.
Copyright 2006 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Labels: aftermath, awareness, birthdays, comfort, dissociation, PTSD, self-esteem, self-injury, therapy, trance states
