May 16, 2011
Life Goes On...
Boy, am I missing blogging and the blogosphere! Here it is May, and I didn't think I would be giving blogging much thought at this point. May is usually one of my best months of the year, when I usually get a great respite from my therapy work, triggers and dissociative nightmares. In the merry month of May, I am usually gardening, walking & hiking, drawing flowers and enjoying the great outdoors. Well, this May the weather is crappy and we're still getting frost at night. Also, there seems to be no let up in the triggers and therapy department. As a matter of fact, I had planned on taking the entire month of May off from therapy, as I have a botanical illustration class on my regular therapy day this month. But, things came up, inner child parts got scared, and my therapist had an opening on a different day from a client who is in Australia for a month. Oh, goodie! Lucky me!
I have done a little bit of Spring cleaning and I just finished a botanical illustration piece that took me many hours to produce and I am happy with it. But, other than that, I'm still doing a lot of therapy, a lot of inner child comforting...and not much of anything that looks like summer is almost here. What I am going to do, while I'm sitting here on this chilly morning in my fluffy jammies, is get around to some of your blogs. I realize that I submitted something to last month's Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, but I haven't gotten over to read the other entries. And, I'm pretty sure I never finished coming to your blogs to say goodbye. I got kinda out of order from my blogroll and lost track of where I was. So, if I come to your blog with my goodbyes more than once, bare with me. Thinking of you all, missing you, and wishing you all the best.
Labels: appreciation, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, child parts, comfort, connection, inner child, therapy, triggers
September 13, 2010
Inner Child: My Favorite Survivor Topic
Update, Friday, September 17th: Dan has the Inner Child Edition of our blog carnival up at his blog, Thoughts Along The Road To Healing. It's a large edition, with about 30 entries. And Dan has done a wonderful job organizing it. Thanks, Dan! We have several articles on the topic of the Inner Child: Honoring our Inner Child, Grieving, and Comforting our Inner Child, to name a few. So, why not take a spin at the carnival this month and comfort your inner child? Please take some time to read the entries and leave supportive comments at the blogs of these brave and awareness-raising bloggers. Thanks for your support of our carnival!
This month, Dan L Hays will host The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. And he's chosen my favorite survivor topic as the theme for this month's edition: The Inner Child. I've always loved writing about my inner child here at my blog and I already have a few posts on the topic that I can send along for this edition.
About his theme, Dan said, "As I have moved along my journey to healing, the concept of the inner child has been extremely important. As I have shared about it, others have echoed that sentiment! We will honor our inner child, and share how they have been a part of our path to healing!
This month, Dan L Hays will host The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. And he's chosen my favorite survivor topic as the theme for this month's edition: The Inner Child. I've always loved writing about my inner child here at my blog and I already have a few posts on the topic that I can send along for this edition.
About his theme, Dan said, "As I have moved along my journey to healing, the concept of the inner child has been extremely important. As I have shared about it, others have echoed that sentiment! We will honor our inner child, and share how they have been a part of our path to healing!
Please submit anything related to inner child and child abuse. As always, you do not have to limit yourself to this month’s theme. All submissions are welcome."
Our other, regular, submission categories are: Aftermath, Advocacy & Awareness, Art Therapy, Healing & Therapy, In The News, Poetry and Survivor Stories. The deadline for this month's edition is midnight (Pacific time, U.S.) Wednesday, September 15. Dan will post the edition on Friday, September 17. So, get those submissions on your inner child and other topics in, folks! Thanks, as always, for your continued support of and participation in our carnival. You can use the handy widget you see there on my sidebar, or this submission form here.
Labels: advocacy, aftermath, awareness, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, blog carnivals, child abuse, healing, inner child, Poetry, therapy
May 26, 2010
Living In The Body: The Trade-Offs Of Life
I don't like to be a downer or complainer. And I'm afraid of being a hypochondriac like my mother. So, I don't talk about physical ailments much. But, lately, I've really been struggling physically. I don't know if it's simply part of getting older, going through perimenopause, or just getting used to being in my body, now that I don't constantly dissociate every bodily feeling away. It's probably a combination of things.
There are the on-going struggles. Some of them I find answers and solutions for. Other things, I may never figure out. In my child abuse recovery therapy, I get many body memories. I've gotten rather used to them and they seem to always pass eventually. However, I believe that I probably have some old injuries that I received during childhood torture that never received any medical attention.
There are the little, nagging things. This spring, for instance, my allergies have been driving me crazy! There are the things that I don't really want to have a doctor tell me about, because I don't want some crazy surgery suggested. Like, for instance my mysterious problem I have with swallowing sometimes. I've chalked this up to some kind of allergy reaction/flemmy thing and I simply try to control it with antihistamines and expectorants.
Here's the trade-off part: The upside is that I'm much better now at comforting and nurturing my little inner child parts who get scared whenever there is any physical feeling of pain. I don't automatically turn to dissociation and ignore what my body is trying to tell me. I used to have an extremely high tolerance for pain. Take, for example, the fact that I had my son without any drugs or pain medication whatsoever...even though he was flipped and I had back labor! I used to ignore anything my body was trying to tell me.
I take much better care of myself than I used to. I don't work myself until I literally drop any more. I hardly ever drink coffee these days. I don't overindulge in alcohol and I no longer smoke. I get outside and move my body with regular exercise. I'm not on any prescription medications and I take some really great natural supplements.
...On the other hand...
Now that I'm more consistently in my body, there are a lot of things I notice that hurt! Over the last four years, I've fallen during biking and skiing accidents and broke ribs on both sides. I had some skin cancer removed from my face. I've dealt with Thoracic Outlet Syndrome in my right shoulder and arm and avoided surgery (thank goodness).
I've been struggling with this perimenopause over about eight years now. All of my female relatives, including my twin, have had hysterectomies, so I don't know how this is supposed to go. But, I feel embarrassed to say that it has not gone smoothly for me. I've gotten the hot flashes and night sweats somewhat under control, but my periods are now very troublesome. I won't go into the gory details, but I've really had to work on my anemia and I've had a lot of monthly pain and PMS symptoms. I try to deal with it naturally, but I have gotten consultations from two different medical doctors. One just told me to take lots of Ibuprofen and the other ran some blood tests and simply stated that my hormone levels were "within normal limits."
Now, my D.O. says I have tendinitis ("tennis elbow") from the repetitive actions of my hours at the drawing table working on my botanical illustration. The pain and weakness in my right arm would get so bad sometimes, that I would go to pick something up (maybe even something as small as a coffee cup) and I'd almost drop it! I'd have to steady the object quickly with my left hand. I'm taking lots of breaks from the desk and drawing table, and I'm doing stretches and taking a supplement that all seem to be helping somewhat with that.
The nagging pain that I haven't been able to get consistent relief on is in my back, between my shoulder blades. My D.O. and my massage therapist have helped me get only fleeting relief here. After a night where I slept very little-- because of extreme discomfort and bloating feeling...and feeling like the food I had eaten that day (this was Sunday) just didn't seem to be digesting or moving in the right direction--I did a little on-line research. I think I've come to the conclusion that I've got some gall bladder problems. I'm a good candidate for it: my grandfather had his gall bladder removed. My mother is morbidly obese and has diabetes. I'm not sure if she's had her gall bladder out or not, but it wouldn't surprise me.
I'm sure it's no big news to anyone who knows about my abusive and neglected childhood that I was not taught any healthy eating habits. I have a terrible sweet tooth. I can get off smoking, drinking and coffee easier than I can get off of my addiction to sugar, carbs and fattening foods. I have been using them--eating "comfort foods"--way too much ever since I started the therapy marathon for my dissociative disorder back in October.
I was complaining recently to my D.O. that, even with the weather improving and getting out and getting a lot more exercise lately, I haven't lost any weight. (I have about 20 pounds I'd like to get rid of.) He suggested that I go out first thing in the morning, before I've had any calories, and take a brisk walk for an hour. In this way, my body has no other choice but to burn fat for its fuel. Brilliant, right? I thought so and I've started doing this three-to-five times a week. I enjoy it and it feels great, but I haven't lost anything yet. This bloaty feeling continues to bother me and I was floored to see on several sites online that gall bladder symptoms can cause this pain between the shoulder blades! Uh oh!
I've got an appointment with my D.O. next week and I'll talk to him about my suspicions. I'd like to try to get it under control with diet (and exercise) and avoid surgery if at all possible. In my research, I noticed that a lot of foods that are recommended for a healthy gall bladder and a lot of foods you are supposed to avoid are similar to the colon cleanse and diet I did three years ago when I lost 18 pounds. I don't think it can hurt, and it certainly might help. At the very least, maybe I'll lose some of that weight and not feel so bloated all the time. If you read this here post and comments from three years ago, you'll see that I enjoyed some of those results then.
I discovered that there are some specific gall bladder cleanses/flushes I can try, too. But, I'm not going to launch into any of those before I talk to a doctor.
For now, I've been shopping for lots of organic items at the health food store and I've got a diet plan. I'm going to cut out all dairy except for low-fat cottage cheese. No more butter and no more ice cream! I'm going to limit bread to only whole-sprouted grain types. No more baked goods like cookies and cinnamon rolls!
I'm going to eat lots of leafy greens and vegetables (avoiding the tooty cabbage family) with organic olive oil, apple cider vinegar and lemon on my salads for dressing. I'm eating fruits like apples, pears and apricots, with yummy berries for a treat. I'm going to severely limit my intake of meat (I never eat much anyway) and emphasize cold-water fish like salmon and trout with lots of Omega 3's. For some reason, several of the sites I looked at suggested eliminating or limiting fowl. I usually eat a lot of chicken, but I'll try this for a while.
I've switched from my black tea in the morning to green tea. I'm drinking lots of fresh-pressed carrot, apple and grape juice, as well as soothing chamomile tea. And, of course, I'm drinking lots of water. I have to admit, over the last several months, I had kinda gotten out of the habit of drinking as much water as I usually try to.
Thankfully, I'm just at the right time of the year to really be successful at this. There are so many choices of fresh fruits and vegetables coming into the stores right now. And we're signed up to receive a box every week from a local, natural grower here in Colorado. Also, I will have my organic herb and vegetable garden plot, as usual, this summer. I'm going to try to emphasize the organic choices even more than I usually do. Something I read said that herbicides and pesticides really wreak havoc on the gall bladder. That just sounds like a good idea to me.
If you've listened to/read all of this so far, I thank you for your compassion and understanding. I really don't mean to be a complainer. Being all negative and judgmental doesn't serve me well. I really am grateful, overall. Other than the IBS that I continue to work to control, I don't suffer with a lot of common ailments and disorders that many of us survivors have to live with. I don't have lupus or fibromyalgia. I get migraines from time to time, but not often. Although I'm struggling with a perimenopause that is not worry-free, I still have all my female organs intact. I'm a little chunky, but I don't have any full-blown eating disorders.
I am counting my blessings. And I hope to have even more to count and report back to you before I leave for our summer vacation at the end of June. In the meantime, I've gotten behind on a lot of things. I hope to finish my final botanical illustration plate in my Colored Pencil II class this week. After that, I'll be taking two months off from my classes. My backyard landscape project has been almost at a standstill, but I'm determined to finish it on my three-year plan--which means this summer. I've got to hurry and get some plants in the ground before it gets too hot.
I will continue to keep the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse up and running on a monthly basis. But, I am behind on many interview and guest blog requests and things of that nature. I shouldn't keep promising when I think I'll be caught up on those, so I won't right now. I even got a cute award with a meme attached from my dear friend Katie recently, and I had hoped to pass that along. I'm not sure when I'll get to it. I'm just going to try to stick to this diet and exercise routine and get to feeling physically better. That's my first priority. I hope that all of you are well and working your way over to the thriving end of the Survivors-Can-Thrive spectrum. I have the utmost compassion for all of you, to, you know. And I'll try to get around to some of your blogs soon.
There are the on-going struggles. Some of them I find answers and solutions for. Other things, I may never figure out. In my child abuse recovery therapy, I get many body memories. I've gotten rather used to them and they seem to always pass eventually. However, I believe that I probably have some old injuries that I received during childhood torture that never received any medical attention.
There are the little, nagging things. This spring, for instance, my allergies have been driving me crazy! There are the things that I don't really want to have a doctor tell me about, because I don't want some crazy surgery suggested. Like, for instance my mysterious problem I have with swallowing sometimes. I've chalked this up to some kind of allergy reaction/flemmy thing and I simply try to control it with antihistamines and expectorants.
Here's the trade-off part: The upside is that I'm much better now at comforting and nurturing my little inner child parts who get scared whenever there is any physical feeling of pain. I don't automatically turn to dissociation and ignore what my body is trying to tell me. I used to have an extremely high tolerance for pain. Take, for example, the fact that I had my son without any drugs or pain medication whatsoever...even though he was flipped and I had back labor! I used to ignore anything my body was trying to tell me.
I take much better care of myself than I used to. I don't work myself until I literally drop any more. I hardly ever drink coffee these days. I don't overindulge in alcohol and I no longer smoke. I get outside and move my body with regular exercise. I'm not on any prescription medications and I take some really great natural supplements.
...On the other hand...
Now that I'm more consistently in my body, there are a lot of things I notice that hurt! Over the last four years, I've fallen during biking and skiing accidents and broke ribs on both sides. I had some skin cancer removed from my face. I've dealt with Thoracic Outlet Syndrome in my right shoulder and arm and avoided surgery (thank goodness).
I've been struggling with this perimenopause over about eight years now. All of my female relatives, including my twin, have had hysterectomies, so I don't know how this is supposed to go. But, I feel embarrassed to say that it has not gone smoothly for me. I've gotten the hot flashes and night sweats somewhat under control, but my periods are now very troublesome. I won't go into the gory details, but I've really had to work on my anemia and I've had a lot of monthly pain and PMS symptoms. I try to deal with it naturally, but I have gotten consultations from two different medical doctors. One just told me to take lots of Ibuprofen and the other ran some blood tests and simply stated that my hormone levels were "within normal limits."
Now, my D.O. says I have tendinitis ("tennis elbow") from the repetitive actions of my hours at the drawing table working on my botanical illustration. The pain and weakness in my right arm would get so bad sometimes, that I would go to pick something up (maybe even something as small as a coffee cup) and I'd almost drop it! I'd have to steady the object quickly with my left hand. I'm taking lots of breaks from the desk and drawing table, and I'm doing stretches and taking a supplement that all seem to be helping somewhat with that.
The nagging pain that I haven't been able to get consistent relief on is in my back, between my shoulder blades. My D.O. and my massage therapist have helped me get only fleeting relief here. After a night where I slept very little-- because of extreme discomfort and bloating feeling...and feeling like the food I had eaten that day (this was Sunday) just didn't seem to be digesting or moving in the right direction--I did a little on-line research. I think I've come to the conclusion that I've got some gall bladder problems. I'm a good candidate for it: my grandfather had his gall bladder removed. My mother is morbidly obese and has diabetes. I'm not sure if she's had her gall bladder out or not, but it wouldn't surprise me.
I'm sure it's no big news to anyone who knows about my abusive and neglected childhood that I was not taught any healthy eating habits. I have a terrible sweet tooth. I can get off smoking, drinking and coffee easier than I can get off of my addiction to sugar, carbs and fattening foods. I have been using them--eating "comfort foods"--way too much ever since I started the therapy marathon for my dissociative disorder back in October.
I was complaining recently to my D.O. that, even with the weather improving and getting out and getting a lot more exercise lately, I haven't lost any weight. (I have about 20 pounds I'd like to get rid of.) He suggested that I go out first thing in the morning, before I've had any calories, and take a brisk walk for an hour. In this way, my body has no other choice but to burn fat for its fuel. Brilliant, right? I thought so and I've started doing this three-to-five times a week. I enjoy it and it feels great, but I haven't lost anything yet. This bloaty feeling continues to bother me and I was floored to see on several sites online that gall bladder symptoms can cause this pain between the shoulder blades! Uh oh!
I've got an appointment with my D.O. next week and I'll talk to him about my suspicions. I'd like to try to get it under control with diet (and exercise) and avoid surgery if at all possible. In my research, I noticed that a lot of foods that are recommended for a healthy gall bladder and a lot of foods you are supposed to avoid are similar to the colon cleanse and diet I did three years ago when I lost 18 pounds. I don't think it can hurt, and it certainly might help. At the very least, maybe I'll lose some of that weight and not feel so bloated all the time. If you read this here post and comments from three years ago, you'll see that I enjoyed some of those results then.
I discovered that there are some specific gall bladder cleanses/flushes I can try, too. But, I'm not going to launch into any of those before I talk to a doctor.
For now, I've been shopping for lots of organic items at the health food store and I've got a diet plan. I'm going to cut out all dairy except for low-fat cottage cheese. No more butter and no more ice cream! I'm going to limit bread to only whole-sprouted grain types. No more baked goods like cookies and cinnamon rolls!
I'm going to eat lots of leafy greens and vegetables (avoiding the tooty cabbage family) with organic olive oil, apple cider vinegar and lemon on my salads for dressing. I'm eating fruits like apples, pears and apricots, with yummy berries for a treat. I'm going to severely limit my intake of meat (I never eat much anyway) and emphasize cold-water fish like salmon and trout with lots of Omega 3's. For some reason, several of the sites I looked at suggested eliminating or limiting fowl. I usually eat a lot of chicken, but I'll try this for a while.
I've switched from my black tea in the morning to green tea. I'm drinking lots of fresh-pressed carrot, apple and grape juice, as well as soothing chamomile tea. And, of course, I'm drinking lots of water. I have to admit, over the last several months, I had kinda gotten out of the habit of drinking as much water as I usually try to.
Thankfully, I'm just at the right time of the year to really be successful at this. There are so many choices of fresh fruits and vegetables coming into the stores right now. And we're signed up to receive a box every week from a local, natural grower here in Colorado. Also, I will have my organic herb and vegetable garden plot, as usual, this summer. I'm going to try to emphasize the organic choices even more than I usually do. Something I read said that herbicides and pesticides really wreak havoc on the gall bladder. That just sounds like a good idea to me.
If you've listened to/read all of this so far, I thank you for your compassion and understanding. I really don't mean to be a complainer. Being all negative and judgmental doesn't serve me well. I really am grateful, overall. Other than the IBS that I continue to work to control, I don't suffer with a lot of common ailments and disorders that many of us survivors have to live with. I don't have lupus or fibromyalgia. I get migraines from time to time, but not often. Although I'm struggling with a perimenopause that is not worry-free, I still have all my female organs intact. I'm a little chunky, but I don't have any full-blown eating disorders.
I am counting my blessings. And I hope to have even more to count and report back to you before I leave for our summer vacation at the end of June. In the meantime, I've gotten behind on a lot of things. I hope to finish my final botanical illustration plate in my Colored Pencil II class this week. After that, I'll be taking two months off from my classes. My backyard landscape project has been almost at a standstill, but I'm determined to finish it on my three-year plan--which means this summer. I've got to hurry and get some plants in the ground before it gets too hot.
I will continue to keep the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse up and running on a monthly basis. But, I am behind on many interview and guest blog requests and things of that nature. I shouldn't keep promising when I think I'll be caught up on those, so I won't right now. I even got a cute award with a meme attached from my dear friend Katie recently, and I had hoped to pass that along. I'm not sure when I'll get to it. I'm just going to try to stick to this diet and exercise routine and get to feeling physically better. That's my first priority. I hope that all of you are well and working your way over to the thriving end of the Survivors-Can-Thrive spectrum. I have the utmost compassion for all of you, to, you know. And I'll try to get around to some of your blogs soon.
Labels: aftermath, body connection, body memories, colon cleansing, comfort, dissociation, healing, IBS, inner child, self-care, weight-loss
March 29, 2010
Aware AND Alive: Finding Joy
Hey, folks. I'm back from Spring Break. We couldn't afford to fly anywhere this year and my husband wanted to save money by camping instead of staying in a hotel. I was afraid we were going to freeze our buns off! We had to drive all the way down to Sedona, AZ to find some sunshine and warmth, but it was worth the long road trip. We camped in Oak Creek Canyon where it was gorgeous. I've never slept so well on a camping trip. The sound of the creek was a wonderful lullaby!
Now that I'm back, I'm reading the posts in this month's Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. Mike at Child Abuse Survivor had such a wonderful idea. To help celebrate his Irish heritage and the Irish humor he so appreciates, Mike set up a theme for this edition of humor, joy and survivors finding happiness.
You know, child abuse is such a serious subject and we do need to be warriors fighting against it, raising awareness and working for prevention and recovery. But, we can also celebrate survivors finding joy, humor and a sense of wholeness and happiness. That's the whole reason I decided a long time ago to name my dot com site and my blog Survivors Can Thrive! Don't we all want to emerge from surviving and start thriving in our lives? Sometimes, while I'm down in the trenches of my own recovery, working on my healing, I forget that. Thanks for the reminder, Mike!
Yes, thanks indeed, Mike, for coming up with such an inspired theme. I am smiling reading these posts. I so appreciate our survivor solidarity where we can share our sorrows and our joys. Thanks to all for participating and thank you, in advance, for going to the carnival, reading and sharing your comments on the posts. You'll be glad you stopped by. Go get a smile! :)
Now that I'm back, I'm reading the posts in this month's Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. Mike at Child Abuse Survivor had such a wonderful idea. To help celebrate his Irish heritage and the Irish humor he so appreciates, Mike set up a theme for this edition of humor, joy and survivors finding happiness.
You know, child abuse is such a serious subject and we do need to be warriors fighting against it, raising awareness and working for prevention and recovery. But, we can also celebrate survivors finding joy, humor and a sense of wholeness and happiness. That's the whole reason I decided a long time ago to name my dot com site and my blog Survivors Can Thrive! Don't we all want to emerge from surviving and start thriving in our lives? Sometimes, while I'm down in the trenches of my own recovery, working on my healing, I forget that. Thanks for the reminder, Mike!
Yes, thanks indeed, Mike, for coming up with such an inspired theme. I am smiling reading these posts. I so appreciate our survivor solidarity where we can share our sorrows and our joys. Thanks to all for participating and thank you, in advance, for going to the carnival, reading and sharing your comments on the posts. You'll be glad you stopped by. Go get a smile! :)
Labels: appreciation, beauty, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, blog carnivals, child abuse, comfort, community, gratitude, healing, hope, inner child, journey, Poetry, thrive
February 22, 2010
New Host: 30 Posts!
Sorry for the delay in this announcement, folks. I spent the weekend with the stomach flu. Yuck! The two-year-old that I watch once a week has started going to daycare now. She picks everything up there and then passes it on to me. *sigh*
What I wanted to tell you about is how impressed I am with IK over at Issue Knitting. She's a first-time Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse host and she's done a fabulous job of organizing 30 submissions for our February edition. The theme is birthdays and it's IK's birthday, too! So, go on over and click on the links, do some reading, leave some supportive comments and say "Happy Birthday" to IK, won't you? Thanks for your support and survivor solidarity!
What I wanted to tell you about is how impressed I am with IK over at Issue Knitting. She's a first-time Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse host and she's done a fabulous job of organizing 30 submissions for our February edition. The theme is birthdays and it's IK's birthday, too! So, go on over and click on the links, do some reading, leave some supportive comments and say "Happy Birthday" to IK, won't you? Thanks for your support and survivor solidarity!
Labels: Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, blog carnivals, child abuse, community, DID, dissociation, healing, inner child, therapy
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
August 03, 2009
August Angst
Well, there it is: It is now August. 
Just saying that to myself fills me with a sense of impending doom.
Last August was a dissociative nightmare. You can read about the "dissociative detour" in this old post here.
I used to think only the official Autumn season was routinely filled with trauma terror. But, the last couple of years I've been noticing that it often starts in August, around the time we start thinking of the kids getting back to school. I saw a "Back to School" promotional banner up the other day and I just got a sinking feeling of dread.
This year, I've got to do something different. My "firefighter" and "manager" parts have already tried all kinds of far-out avoidance tactics to no avail. Let's see, I went down to the Ross trauma program in Dallas coming on three years ago. I've run away to Arizona and the wilds of the national forest in dissociative fugues. I've tried the end-of-summer family vacation and Autumn solo getaways. And, of course, there were more suicidal stays in the hospital than I'd care to mention.
I don't want to repeat any of those this year, thank you very much. I've been talking to my therapist about it on and off for weeks already. I want to be more proactive about it this year.
What we decided at my T appointment last Thursday is that I may just have to face a real whopper of a memory head on. There's probably something about my father being a teacher and the end of the summer that prompted some really bad abuse and, therefore, the dreaded memory I've been trying to avoid seemingly at all costs.
But, something happened when I faced the ultimate betrayal of remembering that my mother knew (and did nothing) about my father almost killing me. I felt the excruciating pain of it...and I didn't die or go crazy.
Maybe I can do the same with this back-to-school memory. I'm sure (duh) that it's something really bad. But, maybe I can just realize that this terrible thing really did happen to me and the hurt of it really sucks. Maybe I can finally allow the little traumatized child inside me to feel the feelings of it. Maybe I can somehow cradle that inner child of mine in my arms and let her cry. Then, of course, I can continue to really take care of myself, comfort myself and pamper myself while I grieve. That's what I've been doing lately and it's been working very well for me.
And with my son back in school, I'll have even more private time for self-care. So, I'm telling myself this will work. I can do this. This may be one of the hardest things I've ever had to face. Send out some courage and strength vibes for me, won't you? Thanks!
One thing I'm not sure I'm going to do is the August edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. If there's anybody out there who is just itching to host an August edition, please let me know. If not, I may just let it slide for a month.
Just saying that to myself fills me with a sense of impending doom.
Last August was a dissociative nightmare. You can read about the "dissociative detour" in this old post here.
I used to think only the official Autumn season was routinely filled with trauma terror. But, the last couple of years I've been noticing that it often starts in August, around the time we start thinking of the kids getting back to school. I saw a "Back to School" promotional banner up the other day and I just got a sinking feeling of dread.
This year, I've got to do something different. My "firefighter" and "manager" parts have already tried all kinds of far-out avoidance tactics to no avail. Let's see, I went down to the Ross trauma program in Dallas coming on three years ago. I've run away to Arizona and the wilds of the national forest in dissociative fugues. I've tried the end-of-summer family vacation and Autumn solo getaways. And, of course, there were more suicidal stays in the hospital than I'd care to mention.
I don't want to repeat any of those this year, thank you very much. I've been talking to my therapist about it on and off for weeks already. I want to be more proactive about it this year.
What we decided at my T appointment last Thursday is that I may just have to face a real whopper of a memory head on. There's probably something about my father being a teacher and the end of the summer that prompted some really bad abuse and, therefore, the dreaded memory I've been trying to avoid seemingly at all costs.
But, something happened when I faced the ultimate betrayal of remembering that my mother knew (and did nothing) about my father almost killing me. I felt the excruciating pain of it...and I didn't die or go crazy.
Maybe I can do the same with this back-to-school memory. I'm sure (duh) that it's something really bad. But, maybe I can just realize that this terrible thing really did happen to me and the hurt of it really sucks. Maybe I can finally allow the little traumatized child inside me to feel the feelings of it. Maybe I can somehow cradle that inner child of mine in my arms and let her cry. Then, of course, I can continue to really take care of myself, comfort myself and pamper myself while I grieve. That's what I've been doing lately and it's been working very well for me.
And with my son back in school, I'll have even more private time for self-care. So, I'm telling myself this will work. I can do this. This may be one of the hardest things I've ever had to face. Send out some courage and strength vibes for me, won't you? Thanks!
One thing I'm not sure I'm going to do is the August edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. If there's anybody out there who is just itching to host an August edition, please let me know. If not, I may just let it slide for a month.
Labels: aftermath, anniversary, betrayal, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, comfort, denial, dissociation, feelings, grieving, inner child, memory work, therapy, triggers
July 09, 2009
Helping Your Inner Child Help You
Alice Miller in, Pictures of Childhood, refers to the "child within me." John Bradshaw, in Healing The Shame That Binds You, talks about "liberating your lost inner child."
There are entire books dedicated to "the inner child." One author, Lucia Capacchione, talks about becoming more creative, intuitive and playful by getting in touch with him/her in Recovery of Your Inner Child. This book's got great inner child exercises that are easy to do and I highly recommend it.
Even medical doctors are hopping on the "inner child" band wagon. Charles L. Whitfield, M.D. has written Healing the Child Within for adult children of dysfunctional families. Many of these books are listed at my Survivors Can Thrive! dot com site's Resources section, "Books for Survivors," with direct links to Amazon dot com.
But who is this inner child and why would we--as abuse and assault survivors--want to get to know him or her? I get asked this question a lot. I've also been asked to write about this topic for a guest post that will appear soon over at Michele's blog about healing PTSD.
Actually, this is one of my favorite "healing and therapy" topics. I love talking about my inner child!
But, this topic wasn't always so rosy for me. One of my earlier therapists back in Illinois asked me to pull out a photograph of myself as a baby. As soon as I got on my reading glasses and really looked into my tiny little face in this photo, I began to sob. Immediately, I realized that my vulnerable, precious, innocent child self was holding immense pain.
In those early days of therapy, I did not want to look at my inner child. Her pain just scared me too much. I thought that I would get lost in it; it would swallow me whole.
I can definitely relate to the idea of the inner child as the "exile" in the book, The Mosaic Mind,
as well as in the Internal Family Systems model of therapy developed by Richard Schwartz PhD. For me, my wounded inner child was long ago exiled to a land far away so that I could get things done, get good grades, be successful, appear reliable and dependable...and not look like I was "crazy" or a "loser."
I have "firefighter" parts (another IFS term) who have gone to great, dysfunctional lengths to keep these fearful, sad, lonely, abandoned exile parts quiet. I've run away in dissociative fugues, I've drank myself into a stupor, I've had sex with questionable partners, I've binged on chocolate and I've spent too much money.
But, the exiled, dissociated, cut-off inner child won't stay quiet forever. She's got a message to deliver, a debt that needs to be paid.
At first, I had no idea what it was she was trying to tell me. I was so cut off from my feelings (and my own body) that I could not listen to them, nor honor them. When I went down to the Colin Ross trauma unit in Dallas a few years ago, I was shocked and dismayed to be given a handout of "feeling words" that contained columns of emotion descriptions that I didn't even know were feelings! Now, I'm a writer and I consider myself to have a pretty strong vocabulary, but I just stared at these words at first; they meant nothing to me on any personal level.
But, the folks at the Ross program have their ways. They gave us patients hand-outs with exercises to complete as homework. And, boy, did these get the feelings going! In fact, I had to work with my assigned therapist there to come up with ways that I could pace myself, instead of being completely flooded with the new-found feelings.
If there's anything I've found that helps get in touch with that sometimes-illusive inner child it is FEEL THE FEELINGS! I recommend that you work with a qualified, experienced therapist in order to succeed at this without re-traumatizing yourself.
But, what I really want to talk about here is how to comfort your inner child. If you're like me and you never had any healthy bonding or attachment with your biological mother, there may be some real re-parenting that needs to happen to help your healing.
Some comforting strategies that I've found helpful are easy to do, quite generic and would probably work for most people. I've got an antique rocking chair that I drug out from the basement and positioned prominently in a cozy little reading nook I have in my home. I have an amazingly soft throw blanket that's stationed on the back of the rocker for soothing and warmth. Simply wrapping myself in the soft throw and rocking away works wonders some days. In the summertime, I find the same joy and sweet soothing on my porch swing.
Most folks I've consulted talk about "stuffies," stuffed animals that they find helpful. Now, I find that I'm a little shy about walking around dragging a beloved, raggedy stuffy with me. And most of the stuffed animals I've bought for myself as an adult have ended up being "adopted" by my own son. But, what I have done is reclaimed some of these cushy animals and I've recently given them an honored spot in a beautiful, old baby buggy I found at an antique doll shop. For everyday snuggling and comfort, I keep a small, spotted cat in my bedside drawer. After my husband awakes and exits the bed (he's an early riser), I'll get out my kitty and snuggle with it on days that I feel my inner children need some comfort. This is especially helpful if I've had a night that consisted of any flashbacks, night fears or nightmares.
If you spend some time thinking about how attached many kids get to their beloved stuffed animals, it can give you some hints for other ways of comforting your inner child. Just think of anything that you always wanted as a child. What were some of the things you asked Santa to bring you for Christmas? Remember how the adults in the movie, The Santa Clause, always wanted a "Dream Date" game and an Oscar Mayer wiener whistle?
Now, you don't have to wait for Santa. Go out and get yourself something kid-like that you always dreamed of when you were little. For me, it was a dollhouse. This was something I always wanted and never got when I was little. So, guess what I did? I went to the craft store and purchased an easy-assembly doll house kit and put it together and painted it. Over the past two years, I've been having a ball buying little miniature furniture pieces, potted plants, kitchen items and tiny porcelain dolls for my inner child's doll house. It's a splurge, but it's fun and my inner child is worth it and she deserves it!
Little inner child comforts, treats and pamperings don't have to cost a fortune. They can be easy to come by, but full of rewards. How 'bout getting some colorful sprinkles on that sundae the next time you treat yourself at the ice cream parlor? Why not read yourself a bedtime story while you sit in that rocking chair? Remember the lullaby songs you sang to your child when he or she was an infant? Singing them to your own inner child can be amazingly soothing when your feelings get hurt or you feel wounded or scared in some other way.
Why not buy your inner child some coloring books and some crayons? If you feel embarrassed in the check-out lane, you can always say you're buying these child-like items for a baby shower, child or grandchild. Heck, most people won't even ask, so there's no need to tell. Some friends and neighbors have given me a few curious looks about my doll house, but I just explain that it's a hobby, a creative outlet and--with some trusted others--a gift to my inner child. I've always gotten a smile and a knowing nod or look at the latter explanation.
Comfort food is a whole other category. Why do you think they call it comfort food any way? Maybe because it comforts your inner child! While I love a home-cooked meal of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, I have to be careful with comfort food, because I can have a tendency to binge and to gain too much weight. But, I've found that the simplest little things can qualify as comforting in the food category. Remember those sprinkles I spoke of earlier? I bought myself a little jar of them off the shelf in the baking goods aisle of the grocery store and I give myself a shake of them on a little dip of ice cream now and then. I also like whipped cream for a little treat that tells my inner child, "you're special, you're adorable and I love you." Try a little on your coffee in the morning for a quick, inner child pick-me-up. For a totally low fat comforter, hot herbal tea does wonders.
Some fragrances are "tasty" and comforting, but aren't taken internally at all. No calories there! I especially like honey vanilla lip balm (you can find these at health food stores) and hand lotion with the fragrance of cherry blossoms.
Every person I've ever met with DID (previously MPD) talks about their "littles," or little child parts or alters. I especially like Buffalopine's idea of carrying a small toy in her pocket to soothe her littles. In this blog post, she talks about carrying a Stuart Little key chain with her for an entire year. What inner child wouldn't like a little mouse friend to keep him company?
Speaking of Stuart Little, I've talked to lots of folks who, like myself, really enjoy the inner child treat of watching children's movies. If you're too shy to walk into a children's, G-rated movie without a kid in tow, you can always rent one to watch in the privacy of your own home.
I'm smiling right now just thinking of all these comforting, fun, playful ideas for my inner child recovery program. I can't wait to get off the computer and put some of these ideas into action for my own inner child right away. What would you like to do today to comfort and please your inner child? Don't wait! Get up and do some little thing for your little self right now. And leave me a comment with your favorite inner child comforts, play-date ideas and treats and we'll compile and even bigger list!
There are entire books dedicated to "the inner child." One author, Lucia Capacchione, talks about becoming more creative, intuitive and playful by getting in touch with him/her in Recovery of Your Inner Child. This book's got great inner child exercises that are easy to do and I highly recommend it.
Even medical doctors are hopping on the "inner child" band wagon. Charles L. Whitfield, M.D. has written Healing the Child Within for adult children of dysfunctional families. Many of these books are listed at my Survivors Can Thrive! dot com site's Resources section, "Books for Survivors," with direct links to Amazon dot com.
But who is this inner child and why would we--as abuse and assault survivors--want to get to know him or her? I get asked this question a lot. I've also been asked to write about this topic for a guest post that will appear soon over at Michele's blog about healing PTSD.
Actually, this is one of my favorite "healing and therapy" topics. I love talking about my inner child!
But, this topic wasn't always so rosy for me. One of my earlier therapists back in Illinois asked me to pull out a photograph of myself as a baby. As soon as I got on my reading glasses and really looked into my tiny little face in this photo, I began to sob. Immediately, I realized that my vulnerable, precious, innocent child self was holding immense pain.
In those early days of therapy, I did not want to look at my inner child. Her pain just scared me too much. I thought that I would get lost in it; it would swallow me whole.
I can definitely relate to the idea of the inner child as the "exile" in the book, The Mosaic Mind,
as well as in the Internal Family Systems model of therapy developed by Richard Schwartz PhD. For me, my wounded inner child was long ago exiled to a land far away so that I could get things done, get good grades, be successful, appear reliable and dependable...and not look like I was "crazy" or a "loser."
I have "firefighter" parts (another IFS term) who have gone to great, dysfunctional lengths to keep these fearful, sad, lonely, abandoned exile parts quiet. I've run away in dissociative fugues, I've drank myself into a stupor, I've had sex with questionable partners, I've binged on chocolate and I've spent too much money.
But, the exiled, dissociated, cut-off inner child won't stay quiet forever. She's got a message to deliver, a debt that needs to be paid.
At first, I had no idea what it was she was trying to tell me. I was so cut off from my feelings (and my own body) that I could not listen to them, nor honor them. When I went down to the Colin Ross trauma unit in Dallas a few years ago, I was shocked and dismayed to be given a handout of "feeling words" that contained columns of emotion descriptions that I didn't even know were feelings! Now, I'm a writer and I consider myself to have a pretty strong vocabulary, but I just stared at these words at first; they meant nothing to me on any personal level.
But, the folks at the Ross program have their ways. They gave us patients hand-outs with exercises to complete as homework. And, boy, did these get the feelings going! In fact, I had to work with my assigned therapist there to come up with ways that I could pace myself, instead of being completely flooded with the new-found feelings.
If there's anything I've found that helps get in touch with that sometimes-illusive inner child it is FEEL THE FEELINGS! I recommend that you work with a qualified, experienced therapist in order to succeed at this without re-traumatizing yourself.
But, what I really want to talk about here is how to comfort your inner child. If you're like me and you never had any healthy bonding or attachment with your biological mother, there may be some real re-parenting that needs to happen to help your healing.
Some comforting strategies that I've found helpful are easy to do, quite generic and would probably work for most people. I've got an antique rocking chair that I drug out from the basement and positioned prominently in a cozy little reading nook I have in my home. I have an amazingly soft throw blanket that's stationed on the back of the rocker for soothing and warmth. Simply wrapping myself in the soft throw and rocking away works wonders some days. In the summertime, I find the same joy and sweet soothing on my porch swing.
Most folks I've consulted talk about "stuffies," stuffed animals that they find helpful. Now, I find that I'm a little shy about walking around dragging a beloved, raggedy stuffy with me. And most of the stuffed animals I've bought for myself as an adult have ended up being "adopted" by my own son. But, what I have done is reclaimed some of these cushy animals and I've recently given them an honored spot in a beautiful, old baby buggy I found at an antique doll shop. For everyday snuggling and comfort, I keep a small, spotted cat in my bedside drawer. After my husband awakes and exits the bed (he's an early riser), I'll get out my kitty and snuggle with it on days that I feel my inner children need some comfort. This is especially helpful if I've had a night that consisted of any flashbacks, night fears or nightmares.
If you spend some time thinking about how attached many kids get to their beloved stuffed animals, it can give you some hints for other ways of comforting your inner child. Just think of anything that you always wanted as a child. What were some of the things you asked Santa to bring you for Christmas? Remember how the adults in the movie, The Santa Clause, always wanted a "Dream Date" game and an Oscar Mayer wiener whistle?
Now, you don't have to wait for Santa. Go out and get yourself something kid-like that you always dreamed of when you were little. For me, it was a dollhouse. This was something I always wanted and never got when I was little. So, guess what I did? I went to the craft store and purchased an easy-assembly doll house kit and put it together and painted it. Over the past two years, I've been having a ball buying little miniature furniture pieces, potted plants, kitchen items and tiny porcelain dolls for my inner child's doll house. It's a splurge, but it's fun and my inner child is worth it and she deserves it!
Little inner child comforts, treats and pamperings don't have to cost a fortune. They can be easy to come by, but full of rewards. How 'bout getting some colorful sprinkles on that sundae the next time you treat yourself at the ice cream parlor? Why not read yourself a bedtime story while you sit in that rocking chair? Remember the lullaby songs you sang to your child when he or she was an infant? Singing them to your own inner child can be amazingly soothing when your feelings get hurt or you feel wounded or scared in some other way.
Why not buy your inner child some coloring books and some crayons? If you feel embarrassed in the check-out lane, you can always say you're buying these child-like items for a baby shower, child or grandchild. Heck, most people won't even ask, so there's no need to tell. Some friends and neighbors have given me a few curious looks about my doll house, but I just explain that it's a hobby, a creative outlet and--with some trusted others--a gift to my inner child. I've always gotten a smile and a knowing nod or look at the latter explanation.
Comfort food is a whole other category. Why do you think they call it comfort food any way? Maybe because it comforts your inner child! While I love a home-cooked meal of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, I have to be careful with comfort food, because I can have a tendency to binge and to gain too much weight. But, I've found that the simplest little things can qualify as comforting in the food category. Remember those sprinkles I spoke of earlier? I bought myself a little jar of them off the shelf in the baking goods aisle of the grocery store and I give myself a shake of them on a little dip of ice cream now and then. I also like whipped cream for a little treat that tells my inner child, "you're special, you're adorable and I love you." Try a little on your coffee in the morning for a quick, inner child pick-me-up. For a totally low fat comforter, hot herbal tea does wonders.
Some fragrances are "tasty" and comforting, but aren't taken internally at all. No calories there! I especially like honey vanilla lip balm (you can find these at health food stores) and hand lotion with the fragrance of cherry blossoms.
Every person I've ever met with DID (previously MPD) talks about their "littles," or little child parts or alters. I especially like Buffalopine's idea of carrying a small toy in her pocket to soothe her littles. In this blog post, she talks about carrying a Stuart Little key chain with her for an entire year. What inner child wouldn't like a little mouse friend to keep him company?
Speaking of Stuart Little, I've talked to lots of folks who, like myself, really enjoy the inner child treat of watching children's movies. If you're too shy to walk into a children's, G-rated movie without a kid in tow, you can always rent one to watch in the privacy of your own home.
I'm smiling right now just thinking of all these comforting, fun, playful ideas for my inner child recovery program. I can't wait to get off the computer and put some of these ideas into action for my own inner child right away. What would you like to do today to comfort and please your inner child? Don't wait! Get up and do some little thing for your little self right now. And leave me a comment with your favorite inner child comforts, play-date ideas and treats and we'll compile and even bigger list!
Labels: abuse, alters, attachment, bonding, child abuse, child parts, DID, dissociation, inner child, PTSD
February 21, 2009
Up and Down, In and Out
Whew! The last week has been a roller coaster ride. Up and down. In (as in closed in) and out (as in reaching out) again. As you may have seen from my last quicky post, my computer crashed. (I'm temporarily using a very, old and slow laptop my husband dug out for me--sure am glad he didn't donate or recycle it!)
My desk-top computer started acting really weird and then I think it got a virus. I noticed the weird activity, so asked my husband to put a bunch of my files on a flash drive. I also printed out hard copies of a lot of my poetry and writing for my some-day book. I guess I'm just old fashioned; I like having a nice, secure hard copy of things that may be irreplaceable.
Getting my files saved before my computer crashed was a mixed blessing. One of the things I found on my hard drive was a dissociative rant. It occurred around the end of August, beginning of September, last year. It was before I wrote about the dissociative period in this post here, and later, in this post here. I found new files that had been opened, with strange file names I could not recall. I also found some rants and incongruous writings within some of my existing files of poetry, quotes, book draft, etc. The ranting just went on and on and didn't seem to have any organization to it. I don't remember writing any of it.
Creepy feeling. Damn! I hate the feeling I get when I am forced to stand face-to-face with evidence of my extreme dissociation. It leaves me feeling like a freak, an outcast, a laughing stock, etc. etc. Stinkin' Thinkin' blah!
Then another incident occurred that was also a mixed blessing. I had thought I had found a group of people to meditate with and it turned out to be an unhealthy group (I won't go into the details). I went to a Sunday brunch event outside of the regular meditation time, and it turned out to be a big sales pitch for something affiliated with this group.
Wait just one cotton-pickin' minute! Don't sell to me, don't try to manipulate me, don't misrepresent things or lie to me. I don't like it! And, now--after years of therapy--I will tell you just that!
I then did some research and found out that this group is definitely my definition of unhealthy. I was on the Internet right when the "sales rep" called me up to follow up on the Sunday event. I saw his name and number on my caller i.d. I almost blew it off because I didn't want to confront. Then I started laughing out loud. What a coincidence--or serendipity, or synchronicity--just when I was reading some unpleasant things about this group and making my mind up to stay away from these people, I get a call from one of them! Ha! I decided that, not only was it funny, it was an opportunity to practice my assertiveness skills and keep myself safe.
I got on the phone and the caller asked if I had a few minutes to talk. "Sure," I said, "But, I don't think you're going to like what I'm going to say." I then went on to tell this man that I felt manipulated, sold to, etc. and that I did not like it. I also told him that I would no longer be meditating with the group and to take me off of their call list.
Yay, me! I was very disappointed to find out that something that I had found that I thought would be healthy for me was not, but I managed to confront, be assertive, take care of myself and keep myself safe. I guess there has been progress with all my therapy after all.
So, what does all this mean? I means motivation for another poem, of course! I wrote about my inner child coming out of exile on my dot com site under the Healing Moments page. It existed in prose form until I made a poem out of it. With my computer not working, I had to sketch it out on paper. But, I like the results.
Out of Exile
No crying myself back to sleep
from this nightmare
peace, opening
vast landscapes, possibilities
crisply, now in view.
Vulnerable energy
open, alive
frees a child from exile;
her battened-down isolation
left behind.
So trusting she was
it frightened me,
but I reached in to touch
her curdled scars;
beautiful as her dimpled smile.
She's all of it;
she's joy and pain,
gain, loss, hate and love.
They tell me
she's my inner child,
not someone
my parents could ever recognize.
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Now that I have use of at least some slow sort of computer, I'll try to get around to some blogs and the Child Abuse Survivor Network and say hello. See ya around the blogosphere!
My desk-top computer started acting really weird and then I think it got a virus. I noticed the weird activity, so asked my husband to put a bunch of my files on a flash drive. I also printed out hard copies of a lot of my poetry and writing for my some-day book. I guess I'm just old fashioned; I like having a nice, secure hard copy of things that may be irreplaceable.
Getting my files saved before my computer crashed was a mixed blessing. One of the things I found on my hard drive was a dissociative rant. It occurred around the end of August, beginning of September, last year. It was before I wrote about the dissociative period in this post here, and later, in this post here. I found new files that had been opened, with strange file names I could not recall. I also found some rants and incongruous writings within some of my existing files of poetry, quotes, book draft, etc. The ranting just went on and on and didn't seem to have any organization to it. I don't remember writing any of it.
Creepy feeling. Damn! I hate the feeling I get when I am forced to stand face-to-face with evidence of my extreme dissociation. It leaves me feeling like a freak, an outcast, a laughing stock, etc. etc. Stinkin' Thinkin' blah!
Then another incident occurred that was also a mixed blessing. I had thought I had found a group of people to meditate with and it turned out to be an unhealthy group (I won't go into the details). I went to a Sunday brunch event outside of the regular meditation time, and it turned out to be a big sales pitch for something affiliated with this group.
Wait just one cotton-pickin' minute! Don't sell to me, don't try to manipulate me, don't misrepresent things or lie to me. I don't like it! And, now--after years of therapy--I will tell you just that!
I then did some research and found out that this group is definitely my definition of unhealthy. I was on the Internet right when the "sales rep" called me up to follow up on the Sunday event. I saw his name and number on my caller i.d. I almost blew it off because I didn't want to confront. Then I started laughing out loud. What a coincidence--or serendipity, or synchronicity--just when I was reading some unpleasant things about this group and making my mind up to stay away from these people, I get a call from one of them! Ha! I decided that, not only was it funny, it was an opportunity to practice my assertiveness skills and keep myself safe.
I got on the phone and the caller asked if I had a few minutes to talk. "Sure," I said, "But, I don't think you're going to like what I'm going to say." I then went on to tell this man that I felt manipulated, sold to, etc. and that I did not like it. I also told him that I would no longer be meditating with the group and to take me off of their call list.
Yay, me! I was very disappointed to find out that something that I had found that I thought would be healthy for me was not, but I managed to confront, be assertive, take care of myself and keep myself safe. I guess there has been progress with all my therapy after all.
So, what does all this mean? I means motivation for another poem, of course! I wrote about my inner child coming out of exile on my dot com site under the Healing Moments page. It existed in prose form until I made a poem out of it. With my computer not working, I had to sketch it out on paper. But, I like the results.
Out of Exile
No crying myself back to sleep
from this nightmare
peace, opening
vast landscapes, possibilities
crisply, now in view.
Vulnerable energy
open, alive
frees a child from exile;
her battened-down isolation
left behind.
So trusting she was
it frightened me,
but I reached in to touch
her curdled scars;
beautiful as her dimpled smile.
She's all of it;
she's joy and pain,
gain, loss, hate and love.
They tell me
she's my inner child,
not someone
my parents could ever recognize.
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Now that I have use of at least some slow sort of computer, I'll try to get around to some blogs and the Child Abuse Survivor Network and say hello. See ya around the blogosphere!
Labels: abuse, advocacy, aftermath, alters, assertiveness, awareness, child abuse, community, dissociation, embarrassment, inner child, network, ning, poem, Poetry, survivors
January 10, 2009
I Resolve to Comfort my Inner Child
After having a much better Christmas than usual or expected--okay, here's the whiny-wiener bad news--I fell while cross-country skiing and injured a few ribs. Then, I got a bad cold. While I was sitting around feeling pain and feeling sorry for myself, I realized that physical illness and injury are big trauma triggers for me.
At my therapist appointment on Thursday, my T said, "You know the actual physical trauma of child abuse gets overlooked and neglected in therapy quite a bit. We focus so much on the emotional trauma and working on feelings, that we don't spend much time on the physical part. As a little girl, you were very, very hurt physically. And most of the time your physical injuries were ignored and received no medical attention."
After she said that, I realized the childhood memory that my recent injury was reminding me of. It wasn't an abuse injury, but the incident reminds me of how many times my childhood injuries and/or illnesses were ignored, overlooked and not attended to in any appropriate, parenting sort of way.
My parents had divorced and, being the upstanding, attentive, appropriate, sane father that he was, dear old "Dad" got full visitation rights with us kids. He had his old, red, two-door jalopy parked in our driveway, waiting to take us to his place for our "visit." I remember that it was winter and there was snow on the ground. My older brother was already seated in the front seat, and my twin sister and I were scooting into the back seat when it happened.
I remember we were all in a hurry to get out of there (even if it was to be with our monster father) because our parents were yelling across the yard at each other: It was the same old topic of, "Where's the child support money?" I got into the back seat first. In her haste to get in after me and close the door behind her, my sister accidentally slammed one of my hands in the heavy car door. I immediately began to wail in pain, while my sister and brother scrambled to get the door back open and release my hand.
My father was oblivious to all this commotion. Instead, he chose this exact moment to zero in and focus on a tiny hole in the knee of my pants, about the size of a dime. Immediately he began to rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing, dressing like this for your visit with me?! Of all the hard-earned money I send to your mother every month, she can't dress you any better than this?! You both have a lot of nerve! Go in and change your clothes immediately! We're not going anywhere with you dressed in rags!" I remember his words and the look of disbelief and outrage on his face. The details of what happened next, however, are rather a blur.
I know my hand hurt like hell. I know all three of us kids did go back inside the house. I know my parents kept on yelling until my father finally drove away alone. I know I did not receive any medical attention--parental attention of any kind--for my smashed hand. There was no emergency room, no doctor's call, no ice pack, nothing. I think I went into the bathroom and ran some cold water in the sink to soothe my throbbing hand.
Now, with a broken rib, all you can do is wait for it to heal. You're not put into a cast. About all you can do is ice it down and take pain meds. It takes about six to eight weeks--and you wait and wait--to get back to normal activity while your ribs heal. That's about all I can do.
There's not much else to be done on this rib issue, when it comes to my healthy, present day self care. But, I started thinking that there are so many ways I can nurture and heal my inner child. This remembrance is an opportunity for me to mourn my lost and neglected childhood and to grieve for the emotional and physical pain that I, as a little girl, had to endure alone. What types of nurturing and basic care did you not receive from the people who were supposed to be your parents?
Hhmmm...let's start a list. Mothering we didn’t get: reassurance, warmth, comfort, empathy, compassion, protection, optimism, confidence, faith, songs, rocking, attachment, holding, gentleness, patience, allowance, acceptance, guidance, safety, reliability, consistency, TLC, caring, attention, medical attention, adoration, play, wisdom, tenderness, joy, trust, LOVE, unconditional love, nurturing, delight...
You are beautiful
At my therapist appointment on Thursday, my T said, "You know the actual physical trauma of child abuse gets overlooked and neglected in therapy quite a bit. We focus so much on the emotional trauma and working on feelings, that we don't spend much time on the physical part. As a little girl, you were very, very hurt physically. And most of the time your physical injuries were ignored and received no medical attention."
After she said that, I realized the childhood memory that my recent injury was reminding me of. It wasn't an abuse injury, but the incident reminds me of how many times my childhood injuries and/or illnesses were ignored, overlooked and not attended to in any appropriate, parenting sort of way.
My parents had divorced and, being the upstanding, attentive, appropriate, sane father that he was, dear old "Dad" got full visitation rights with us kids. He had his old, red, two-door jalopy parked in our driveway, waiting to take us to his place for our "visit." I remember that it was winter and there was snow on the ground. My older brother was already seated in the front seat, and my twin sister and I were scooting into the back seat when it happened.
I remember we were all in a hurry to get out of there (even if it was to be with our monster father) because our parents were yelling across the yard at each other: It was the same old topic of, "Where's the child support money?" I got into the back seat first. In her haste to get in after me and close the door behind her, my sister accidentally slammed one of my hands in the heavy car door. I immediately began to wail in pain, while my sister and brother scrambled to get the door back open and release my hand.
My father was oblivious to all this commotion. Instead, he chose this exact moment to zero in and focus on a tiny hole in the knee of my pants, about the size of a dime. Immediately he began to rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing, dressing like this for your visit with me?! Of all the hard-earned money I send to your mother every month, she can't dress you any better than this?! You both have a lot of nerve! Go in and change your clothes immediately! We're not going anywhere with you dressed in rags!" I remember his words and the look of disbelief and outrage on his face. The details of what happened next, however, are rather a blur.
I know my hand hurt like hell. I know all three of us kids did go back inside the house. I know my parents kept on yelling until my father finally drove away alone. I know I did not receive any medical attention--parental attention of any kind--for my smashed hand. There was no emergency room, no doctor's call, no ice pack, nothing. I think I went into the bathroom and ran some cold water in the sink to soothe my throbbing hand.
Now, with a broken rib, all you can do is wait for it to heal. You're not put into a cast. About all you can do is ice it down and take pain meds. It takes about six to eight weeks--and you wait and wait--to get back to normal activity while your ribs heal. That's about all I can do.
There's not much else to be done on this rib issue, when it comes to my healthy, present day self care. But, I started thinking that there are so many ways I can nurture and heal my inner child. This remembrance is an opportunity for me to mourn my lost and neglected childhood and to grieve for the emotional and physical pain that I, as a little girl, had to endure alone. What types of nurturing and basic care did you not receive from the people who were supposed to be your parents?
Hhmmm...let's start a list. Mothering we didn’t get: reassurance, warmth, comfort, empathy, compassion, protection, optimism, confidence, faith, songs, rocking, attachment, holding, gentleness, patience, allowance, acceptance, guidance, safety, reliability, consistency, TLC, caring, attention, medical attention, adoration, play, wisdom, tenderness, joy, trust, LOVE, unconditional love, nurturing, delight...
Delight. Yes. Don't you like that one? Is it so much to ask that a mother actually take delight in her precious child? It comes so easily for me with my own beautiful son. The day I brought my tiny newborn home from the hospital was about the most elated I've ever been in my life. I was so delighted with my new child. Why was it such an overwhelming burden and impossibility for my own mother?
This is one of the reasons why I did what many may consider an odd thing--I bought a baby doll and I sing to her. In a mindful and sincere way, I sing to my inner child: "You're my beautiful baby girl. You're an angel in this world. You're adorable. My beautiful baby girl."
Using my motherly list I started above, I wrote a poem, which I can also put to music in my head and sing to my inner child. Here it is:
Nurture My Soul
I love you
There, there
Let me comfort you
I care
It’s Okay
It’s okay to cry
I’ll protect you
I’m here
It’s safe now for you to rest
Lay your head down
Here’s my shoulder
I will stroke your hair
It’s okay
You can show me
I will dress your wounds
Sleep now
Close your eyes
I will stay with you
No need to hide
It’s safe for you now
You can be you with me
Run to me
When you’re scared
I will protect you
You can feel
Even your rage
It is safe with me
You are beautiful
The way you are
I find great joy in you
I am patient
With your not knowing
And I will show you how
My arms are open
Fall into them
I will gently rock you
You’re frightened
It’s dark
Be still; I’ll sing to you
Everyone has fears
But the world can be a wonderful place
I’ll help you to see that It’ll be okay.
Copyright 2009 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Labels: child abuse, child parts, comfort, inner child, needs, nurturing, pain, Poetry, self-care, therapy, trauma, triggers
February 12, 2008
Heart-Felt Reminder
Don't forget, folks! The deadline for the February BLOG CARNIVAL AGAINST CHILD ABUSE is Wednesday, February 13, for the Friday, February 15 post. That's tomorrow, so hurry! We're talking about love--love of your inner child and/or child parts, love of our awesome survivor community, etc. By the way, we still have all of our regularly-occurring post categories as well: Aftermath, Survivor Stories, Advocacy & Awareness, In-The-News, Poetry, and Healing & Therapy. You can click this link and submit here. I haven't hosted the carnival for a while and I'm excited to do it! I love you guys! xoxoxo ((((safe hugs))))
Labels: Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, blog carnivals, inner child, love, survivors
February 08, 2008
Inner Child Rescue, Care & Love
This is one of the first poems I ever wrote. It was one of those things that just came to me when I awoke in the middle of the night. Back then, I had been doing a lot of "inner child" work with a very good therapist and I had just started therapy for PTSD.
Now that my T and I are working with my parts, I've found that I have to do a "rescue" for each child part. What I do is a visualization where I go back to my childhood house (sometimes with a SWAT team to immobilize the monsters who were supposed to be my parents). I'm always with an angel. We scoop up the terrorized little girl and we fly her away to safety. My poem is called, Child Fly Away.
Child Fly Away
I love and cherish you
And I know you love me too
Come now and we will dance and play
And then we’ll simply fly away
I can feel your pain
I know they tried to break you
You’re helpless, sad, alone
No peace within
I can tell you’re tired
I see a child who’s tortured
With trying to atone
For unknown sin
Hey, let’s fly away
We’ve struggled with chains too long
Let’s grab this chance so we can see
If we are ever to be free
Why wait here in the dark?
All it can ever show you
Is pain and it’s the pain
That you still fear
I can see the light
In my heart faith remains
And I know that this is it
Our chance is here
I love and cherish you
And now I know you feel love too
Now we can dance and run and play
Then we just simply fly away
Away
Away
Come let’s fly away
We’ll fly away
Copyright 2002 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Below is a music video I received from a fellow survivor who is also a musician. He is a child abuse advocate and he found me through The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. His name is Mike Skinner and he has his own website at: www.mskinnermusic.com.
Now that my T and I are working with my parts, I've found that I have to do a "rescue" for each child part. What I do is a visualization where I go back to my childhood house (sometimes with a SWAT team to immobilize the monsters who were supposed to be my parents). I'm always with an angel. We scoop up the terrorized little girl and we fly her away to safety. My poem is called, Child Fly Away.
Child Fly Away
I love and cherish you
And I know you love me too
Come now and we will dance and play
And then we’ll simply fly away
I can feel your pain
I know they tried to break you
You’re helpless, sad, alone
No peace within
I can tell you’re tired
I see a child who’s tortured
With trying to atone
For unknown sin
Hey, let’s fly away
We’ve struggled with chains too long
Let’s grab this chance so we can see
If we are ever to be free
Why wait here in the dark?
All it can ever show you
Is pain and it’s the pain
That you still fear
I can see the light
In my heart faith remains
And I know that this is it
Our chance is here
I love and cherish you
And now I know you feel love too
Now we can dance and run and play
Then we just simply fly away
Away
Away
Come let’s fly away
We’ll fly away
Copyright 2002 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Below is a music video I received from a fellow survivor who is also a musician. He is a child abuse advocate and he found me through The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. His name is Mike Skinner and he has his own website at: www.mskinnermusic.com.
Labels: advocacy, child abuse, healing music, inner child, Mike Skinner, Poetry, rescue, self-care, self-love, YouTube
February 05, 2008
Spread the Love at the February Blog Carnival
I swear, I'm going to put up a post called, "Meme Madness." In it, I will update the "linky love" I've been trying to keep up on and spread for those bloggers playing my Survivor Needs & Wants meme. Then, I'll try to make sure I put up my own lists for the memes I've been tagged with lately.
Right now, however, I've got to let you all know what's going on with the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. I've decided just to take February myself. Since February is Valentine's Day month here in the US, let's do a "love theme" for this edition. Submit posts about learning to love and trust again after abuse, loving and forgiving yourself, loving your inner child or alter parts, etc. Let's spread the love, y'all!
I've set the submission deadline as Wednesday, Feb 13 for a Friday, Feb 15 edition post. You can submit here.
Now, as for future hosts, I'm a little mixed up. Me, mixed up? Never, right? I know I had several would-be first-time hosts who told me they wanted to wait until spring to be in charge of an edition. One blogger, unfortunately, had to pull her blog down. I'm pretty sure Enola and S'onnie told me they were looking at the possibility of hosting in March. Mike, at Child Abuse Survivor said he'd be willing to host again anytime. Then, I think April at Thriver's Toolbox told me she may be able to host in the not-too-distant future, but I can't remember when.
I know I'm forgetting at least a couple of people who showed interest. I'd like to give the first-time carnival hosts a chance before we go back again to repeat hosties. If you're interested, would you please comment here and let me know a possible month you may be able to host? I'd like to get a host list compiled to get us through to at least June. Thanks. I'd sure appreciate it.
Right now, however, I've got to let you all know what's going on with the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. I've decided just to take February myself. Since February is Valentine's Day month here in the US, let's do a "love theme" for this edition. Submit posts about learning to love and trust again after abuse, loving and forgiving yourself, loving your inner child or alter parts, etc. Let's spread the love, y'all!
I've set the submission deadline as Wednesday, Feb 13 for a Friday, Feb 15 edition post. You can submit here.
Now, as for future hosts, I'm a little mixed up. Me, mixed up? Never, right? I know I had several would-be first-time hosts who told me they wanted to wait until spring to be in charge of an edition. One blogger, unfortunately, had to pull her blog down. I'm pretty sure Enola and S'onnie told me they were looking at the possibility of hosting in March. Mike, at Child Abuse Survivor said he'd be willing to host again anytime. Then, I think April at Thriver's Toolbox told me she may be able to host in the not-too-distant future, but I can't remember when.
I know I'm forgetting at least a couple of people who showed interest. I'd like to give the first-time carnival hosts a chance before we go back again to repeat hosties. If you're interested, would you please comment here and let me know a possible month you may be able to host? I'd like to get a host list compiled to get us through to at least June. Thanks. I'd sure appreciate it.
Labels: Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, blog carnivals, inner child, links, love, meme, parts, survivor, survivor needs, trust
December 13, 2007
Mourning that Abused, Dissociated Child
So, for those of you who were wondering: I did go to the Christmas party Saturday night. I even wore something kinda sexy. But, I went with a girlfriend. Yes, I had a very nice time. No, I did not get rip-roaring drunk. I actually enjoyed some meaningful conversations with some other women there.
Unfortunately, that night I got home and the wine I had did not help me sleep. Neither did it keep the nightmares away. I had one of those dreams that goes on and on, like you're watching a three-hour movie. A new twist on my torture-themed dreams is that this time my husband and I were both being tortured. It reminded me of watching my sister suffer as a child. It was a dream that took place in some third-world country and we kept being detained; weren't allowed to cross the border into safe territory. Both of us were abused, even tortured, by our captors while we were being detained. Aaaaaacccckkkkk!
I wish there was some kind of pill one could take to never have a nightmare again!
But, Monday I had my therapy appointment. (Ya know, I have 'em twice a week, so they come up pretty often :P ) I even brought in a print-out of some of the comments I got on my blog for our discussion. I got a lot of good work done with my therapist and then I came home and sobbed my eyes out. It's painful and it sucks, but the grieving--the feeling of the feelings--is healing for me. Of this I am sure.
There are two major developments that I'm really mourning over right now: First, there's the ongoing facing of the "mom-was-involved" betrayal. It is huge! It's one of the toughest realities that I've ever had to face. I guess, since I'm now a mother myself, I just can't seem to wrap my brain around the fact that this woman facilitated and shamed me for my abuse after carrying me inside her. I was once part of her own body! How does such betrayal, abandonment and inhumanity work? I'll never figure it out, of course. That's one of the things I have to keep working on--the urge to try to "figure it out." Even when it's obviously impossible.
The second thing--and this is huge, too--is that my sister and I have both discovered recently that our abuse did NOT end when our father left the house after my parents divorced. This just shakes my world, I gotta tell ya. So much of what I'd assumed for years is now proven false. I'll have to get into this one later. I've just scratched the surface of it.
What I am delving more deeply into is an issue that ties both of these recent recovery developments together: After the divorce, my mother allowed us full, overnight, unsupervised visitation with the monster who was our father. She did not fight the visitation one iota. Their divorce was solely for my mother's personal preservation and selfish reasons. It had nothing to do with finally protecting her offspring.
To say that I'm feeling enormous amounts of anguish is a vast understatement. When I had my huge crying jag Monday, I kept hearing this little girl wail, "She didn't see me. She never saw me. She didn't see me!" (Talking about the egg donor who we called "Mom.") I kept trying to reach in, but didn't feel very successful. I kept saying aloud, "I see you. I see you." But, I'm not sure anybody heard. To say that I'm feeling guilty and conflicted about not being able to reach in, scoop up and comfort the littlest of my child parts doesn't come close to what I'm feeling either.
I guess I've achieved a little bit more empathy for myself after getting in touch with what I wrote about in my December 7 post. So that's a good thing. But, after being in touch with--and being able to describe--the horror that I wrote about in that post, I realize that I'm seeing this reaching-in challenge as almost a physical impossibility. Trying to scoop up these little girls is like grasping at shadows. They keep slipping through my arms. Their charred little souls have turned to ash. They've been reduced to dust and have blown hither and yon. I'm running in every direction trying to find them, but there seems to be nothing to hold onto.
How does one return the ethereal to viable flesh and bone?
Unfortunately, that night I got home and the wine I had did not help me sleep. Neither did it keep the nightmares away. I had one of those dreams that goes on and on, like you're watching a three-hour movie. A new twist on my torture-themed dreams is that this time my husband and I were both being tortured. It reminded me of watching my sister suffer as a child. It was a dream that took place in some third-world country and we kept being detained; weren't allowed to cross the border into safe territory. Both of us were abused, even tortured, by our captors while we were being detained. Aaaaaacccckkkkk!
I wish there was some kind of pill one could take to never have a nightmare again!
But, Monday I had my therapy appointment. (Ya know, I have 'em twice a week, so they come up pretty often :P ) I even brought in a print-out of some of the comments I got on my blog for our discussion. I got a lot of good work done with my therapist and then I came home and sobbed my eyes out. It's painful and it sucks, but the grieving--the feeling of the feelings--is healing for me. Of this I am sure.
There are two major developments that I'm really mourning over right now: First, there's the ongoing facing of the "mom-was-involved" betrayal. It is huge! It's one of the toughest realities that I've ever had to face. I guess, since I'm now a mother myself, I just can't seem to wrap my brain around the fact that this woman facilitated and shamed me for my abuse after carrying me inside her. I was once part of her own body! How does such betrayal, abandonment and inhumanity work? I'll never figure it out, of course. That's one of the things I have to keep working on--the urge to try to "figure it out." Even when it's obviously impossible.
The second thing--and this is huge, too--is that my sister and I have both discovered recently that our abuse did NOT end when our father left the house after my parents divorced. This just shakes my world, I gotta tell ya. So much of what I'd assumed for years is now proven false. I'll have to get into this one later. I've just scratched the surface of it.
What I am delving more deeply into is an issue that ties both of these recent recovery developments together: After the divorce, my mother allowed us full, overnight, unsupervised visitation with the monster who was our father. She did not fight the visitation one iota. Their divorce was solely for my mother's personal preservation and selfish reasons. It had nothing to do with finally protecting her offspring.
To say that I'm feeling enormous amounts of anguish is a vast understatement. When I had my huge crying jag Monday, I kept hearing this little girl wail, "She didn't see me. She never saw me. She didn't see me!" (Talking about the egg donor who we called "Mom.") I kept trying to reach in, but didn't feel very successful. I kept saying aloud, "I see you. I see you." But, I'm not sure anybody heard. To say that I'm feeling guilty and conflicted about not being able to reach in, scoop up and comfort the littlest of my child parts doesn't come close to what I'm feeling either.
I guess I've achieved a little bit more empathy for myself after getting in touch with what I wrote about in my December 7 post. So that's a good thing. But, after being in touch with--and being able to describe--the horror that I wrote about in that post, I realize that I'm seeing this reaching-in challenge as almost a physical impossibility. Trying to scoop up these little girls is like grasping at shadows. They keep slipping through my arms. Their charred little souls have turned to ash. They've been reduced to dust and have blown hither and yon. I'm running in every direction trying to find them, but there seems to be nothing to hold onto.
How does one return the ethereal to viable flesh and bone?
Labels: abandonment, betrayal, child abuse, child parts, grieving, inhumanity, inner child, mourning, nightmares, therapy, torture, trauma
November 20, 2007
Gratitude & Beauty
Thanksgiving. Hhmmmmm...the word and the idea of this treasured American holiday bring up mixed emotions for me. I am one of those abuse survivors who tends to freak out around the holidays. Holidays during my childhood were a ridiculous farce, brimming with hypocrisy.
It was only a year ago, last Thanksgiving, that I ran away...again. Although I saw my husband and my son everyday while I was gone, I was away for over a month and I still feel guilty about it. Soon after that, I started intense, twice-a-week therapy for my severe dissociative disorder.
This turkey day, my husband decided our little family needed to get far away. We're going on a Disney cruise to the Bahamas! Whoo hooooo! We really need a vacation, and mom and dad need some alone time as well. I'm told a Disney cruise is the best of both worlds. We leave on Thanksgiving Day (that's Thursday here in the US) and we'll be gone for a week. I'll probably only get to a computer once while I'm away.
While flying to Florida, Thursday probably won't even feel like Thanksgiving to me. This could be a very good thing.
On the flip side of my Thanksgiving emotions, I do have a great sense of gratitude. I'm grateful that we can afford this trip in the first place (even though my hubby has been working nights and weekends for it). I'm grateful for my supportive husband and my son. I'm grateful that God, somehow, gave me the strength to break the cycle of abuse in my family. I'm thankful for The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse (see reminder below, folks!)
And last, but certainly not least, I'm grateful for this blogging community of survivors. Hearing your stories and getting to know you online has strengthened my sense of compassion and empathy, for myself, other survivors and children around the world. Seeing that every child abuse survivor was a precious, innocent, adorable child--a beautiful shining soul, connected to the source of love and light--reminds me that I was a beautiful child and I am a divine soul myself.
I am grateful for the beauty. The beauty inherent in each survivor. We are all beautiful, divine souls. I wrote the poem below for a fellow survivor of childhood abuse and neglect. I offer it out to all survivors, and also say these words to my own inner children and my adult self. The poem is called, Your Beauty.
Some of my long-time readers may have seen this poem before. I think we need reminders of our beauty. We are beautiful. Let's remember that. Let's celebrate that. Let's be thankful for that. Let's stop letting anyone (from our present or past) convince us that we're anything but beautiful. This is for you:
Your Beauty
I see the beauty you can't see
You're unaware of what it does for me
It's the light shining in your eyes
Lifting me up to brighter skies
Still you walk around
And you hang your head
Sometimes wishing
You were dead
But if you could see
What I see in you
There'd be nothing, love,
That you could not do.
Copyright 2003 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
REMINDER: The November edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse will debut at CerebralMum the day I get back from my trip: Friday, November 30, 2007. Please get your submissions in. You can use the Blog Carnival Submission Form here. Hurry! The deadline for submissions is Wednesday, November 28.
It was only a year ago, last Thanksgiving, that I ran away...again. Although I saw my husband and my son everyday while I was gone, I was away for over a month and I still feel guilty about it. Soon after that, I started intense, twice-a-week therapy for my severe dissociative disorder.
This turkey day, my husband decided our little family needed to get far away. We're going on a Disney cruise to the Bahamas! Whoo hooooo! We really need a vacation, and mom and dad need some alone time as well. I'm told a Disney cruise is the best of both worlds. We leave on Thanksgiving Day (that's Thursday here in the US) and we'll be gone for a week. I'll probably only get to a computer once while I'm away.
While flying to Florida, Thursday probably won't even feel like Thanksgiving to me. This could be a very good thing.
On the flip side of my Thanksgiving emotions, I do have a great sense of gratitude. I'm grateful that we can afford this trip in the first place (even though my hubby has been working nights and weekends for it). I'm grateful for my supportive husband and my son. I'm grateful that God, somehow, gave me the strength to break the cycle of abuse in my family. I'm thankful for The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse (see reminder below, folks!)
And last, but certainly not least, I'm grateful for this blogging community of survivors. Hearing your stories and getting to know you online has strengthened my sense of compassion and empathy, for myself, other survivors and children around the world. Seeing that every child abuse survivor was a precious, innocent, adorable child--a beautiful shining soul, connected to the source of love and light--reminds me that I was a beautiful child and I am a divine soul myself.
I am grateful for the beauty. The beauty inherent in each survivor. We are all beautiful, divine souls. I wrote the poem below for a fellow survivor of childhood abuse and neglect. I offer it out to all survivors, and also say these words to my own inner children and my adult self. The poem is called, Your Beauty.
Some of my long-time readers may have seen this poem before. I think we need reminders of our beauty. We are beautiful. Let's remember that. Let's celebrate that. Let's be thankful for that. Let's stop letting anyone (from our present or past) convince us that we're anything but beautiful. This is for you:
Your Beauty
I see the beauty you can't see
You're unaware of what it does for me
It's the light shining in your eyes
Lifting me up to brighter skies
Still you walk around
And you hang your head
Sometimes wishing
You were dead
But if you could see
What I see in you
There'd be nothing, love,
That you could not do.
Copyright 2003 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
REMINDER: The November edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse will debut at CerebralMum the day I get back from my trip: Friday, November 30, 2007. Please get your submissions in. You can use the Blog Carnival Submission Form here. Hurry! The deadline for submissions is Wednesday, November 28.
Labels: beauty, blog carnivals, child abuse, gratitude, holidays, inner child, poem, Poetry, Thanksgiving
October 25, 2007
Facing Fears & Demons
Facing Demons
You're a part of me that's walled off
Still I feel your fear
You need my attention
It's painful staying here
Facing demons I thought were dead
Retraining the chaos in my head
So, you speak to me in nightmares
Try and get out of my own way
And, I attempt to hear you
You've got secrets you must say
If I look at anymore of this
Will I come completely apart?
How can you destroy your child
And crucify her heart?
Facing demons I thought were dead
Want to feel safe in my own bed
I am reaching in for
A frightened child inside
Who longs and cries for comfort
Then runs away to hide
Yet, I can't forget the children
They're teaching me to feel
Each one of them I'll rescue
As their secrets are revealed
Facing demons I thought were dead
Retraining the chaos in my head.
Copyright 2007 Marj McCabe ~ All Rights Reserved
Labels: child abuse, child parts, comfort, dissociation, inner child, poem, Poetry, sexual abuse survivors, therapy
July 19, 2007
Can I Re-parent My Wounded Children?
My T and I have been talking about how I recreate situations in my life now where I set myself up for not getting the never-to-be-obtained approval of my mother. I wrote this post after returning from the trauma program in Dallas last fall, that told about how I had asked the group there for what I needed to hear: "It wasn't your fault. You didn't deserve it. You're not a bad person." I'm forever looking for this repeal.
When another woman in the Dallas group started sobbing, the facilitator left me hanging, pulled her chair in real close to her and said--almost word-for-word--what I had asked for, to the other woman instead! I guess, as with my mother, I was asking for something from someone who I knew couldn't give me what I needed.
That's probably why I get so excited about awards that other bloggers just blow off--I'm still so desperate for approval.
I've decided I really need to up my efforts at re-parenting my wounded inner child parts. I'm sure I never bonded or had healthy attachment with my birth "mother." (My twin and I were an unwanted pregnancy that was discovered after my mother had already attempted to leave my father. We were huge twins--over eight pounds apiece. And when some gushing passer-by would enthusiastically ask, "What's it like to have twins?" my mother would always reply, "I wouldn't wish it on anybody." Thanks, dear old Mom!) I certainly never got her protection, support or approval. I need to quit chasing that fantasy and mother myself(ves).
There's lots of stuff I'm working on in my therapy, but right now I want to share a poem I wrote. I call my parts "my beautifuls." That's the name of the poem. I hope some of the sentiments in the poem might carry over to your parts, alters, or inner children in a comforting way.
My Beautifuls
Dears, I want you to know this
To know I'm glad you came around
For a while I was unsure and afraid
But, now I know that our reasons were sound
When I first got to know you
I wanted to just turn away
I saw you alone with such deep pain
Then I knew that I needed to stay
So, now we've got to feel this
All the pain that we used to shove down
We'll swim through dark waters together
No, I won't let one of us drown
I want to hold you
Rock you in my arms
And tell you that you're beautiful
I want to soothe you
Comfort and love you
The way that you so deserve
I'll always love you
The way that a parent
Should cherish their child
My beautifuls
My sweet beautifuls.
Copyright 2007 Marj McCabe~All Rights Reserved
When another woman in the Dallas group started sobbing, the facilitator left me hanging, pulled her chair in real close to her and said--almost word-for-word--what I had asked for, to the other woman instead! I guess, as with my mother, I was asking for something from someone who I knew couldn't give me what I needed.
That's probably why I get so excited about awards that other bloggers just blow off--I'm still so desperate for approval.
I've decided I really need to up my efforts at re-parenting my wounded inner child parts. I'm sure I never bonded or had healthy attachment with my birth "mother." (My twin and I were an unwanted pregnancy that was discovered after my mother had already attempted to leave my father. We were huge twins--over eight pounds apiece. And when some gushing passer-by would enthusiastically ask, "What's it like to have twins?" my mother would always reply, "I wouldn't wish it on anybody." Thanks, dear old Mom!) I certainly never got her protection, support or approval. I need to quit chasing that fantasy and mother myself(ves).
There's lots of stuff I'm working on in my therapy, but right now I want to share a poem I wrote. I call my parts "my beautifuls." That's the name of the poem. I hope some of the sentiments in the poem might carry over to your parts, alters, or inner children in a comforting way.
My Beautifuls
Dears, I want you to know this
To know I'm glad you came around
For a while I was unsure and afraid
But, now I know that our reasons were sound
When I first got to know you
I wanted to just turn away
I saw you alone with such deep pain
Then I knew that I needed to stay
So, now we've got to feel this
All the pain that we used to shove down
We'll swim through dark waters together
No, I won't let one of us drown
I want to hold you
Rock you in my arms
And tell you that you're beautiful
I want to soothe you
Comfort and love you
The way that you so deserve
I'll always love you
The way that a parent
Should cherish their child
My beautifuls
My sweet beautifuls.
Copyright 2007 Marj McCabe~All Rights Reserved
Labels: alters, child parts, dissociation, inner child, parts, poem, Poetry, re-parenting, self-love, therapy
March 20, 2007
Broken to Pieces
So much has been going on during this intense phase of therapy and recovery that I can't keep up. I haven't even been able to keep it all up to date in my paper journal, let alone here on my blog.
I'm going to be out of town for Spring Break next week. I had a new part emerge that scares me to my core (way more than Sentry did in the beginning). I think she's very identified with my perpetrator parents. I decided to put working with her and my therapist on hold until I get back into town. I just don't want to be left hanging in the middle of something huge and scary while I'm out of town and away from my therapist.
So, yesterday, at my T appointment, I ran this past my T and we moved on to "lighter" topics (are there really any light topics?). I decided to run a few physical complaints by her. I've mentioned these to mental health providors in the past and never really gotten anywhere with it. I think I've mentioned these trouble makers on my blog. One is the annoying problem of not being able to swallow food sometimes (unfortunatley, this has not led me to become thin).
My other physical problem is really causing me to lose sleep lately. When I sought advice from a medical doc about it, he wanted to do surgery so I walked out of his office. It's the old complaint about my arms falling asleep and going dead on me again. When I think about the assaults where my arms were pinned down, I can't help but think that this complaint has a trauma component. I seemed to get some relief from this for about two years when I was going to another therapist twice a week and doing a lot of trauma processing. My current T suggested that I inquire within myself as to what this symptom was trying to tell me.
So, this morning after about the millionth time that the rest of me was awake because my arms were asleep, I asked for the message. What came to me was loads of grief--not fear as I would have suspected.
We've all had our hearts broken at least once, right? I know I've been through that kind of "lost love" grief more than once. But, how do you mend the broken heart of a child? How do you pick up the pieces after the ultimate betrayal by the parents who were supposed to love and care for you?
I feel like the proverbial Humpty Dumpty. My heart is broken to pieces, as well as my mind. And all the king's therapists and all the king's doctors will never be able to put all my pieces back together again.
I'm going to be out of town for Spring Break next week. I had a new part emerge that scares me to my core (way more than Sentry did in the beginning). I think she's very identified with my perpetrator parents. I decided to put working with her and my therapist on hold until I get back into town. I just don't want to be left hanging in the middle of something huge and scary while I'm out of town and away from my therapist.
So, yesterday, at my T appointment, I ran this past my T and we moved on to "lighter" topics (are there really any light topics?). I decided to run a few physical complaints by her. I've mentioned these to mental health providors in the past and never really gotten anywhere with it. I think I've mentioned these trouble makers on my blog. One is the annoying problem of not being able to swallow food sometimes (unfortunatley, this has not led me to become thin).
My other physical problem is really causing me to lose sleep lately. When I sought advice from a medical doc about it, he wanted to do surgery so I walked out of his office. It's the old complaint about my arms falling asleep and going dead on me again. When I think about the assaults where my arms were pinned down, I can't help but think that this complaint has a trauma component. I seemed to get some relief from this for about two years when I was going to another therapist twice a week and doing a lot of trauma processing. My current T suggested that I inquire within myself as to what this symptom was trying to tell me.
So, this morning after about the millionth time that the rest of me was awake because my arms were asleep, I asked for the message. What came to me was loads of grief--not fear as I would have suspected.
We've all had our hearts broken at least once, right? I know I've been through that kind of "lost love" grief more than once. But, how do you mend the broken heart of a child? How do you pick up the pieces after the ultimate betrayal by the parents who were supposed to love and care for you?
I feel like the proverbial Humpty Dumpty. My heart is broken to pieces, as well as my mind. And all the king's therapists and all the king's doctors will never be able to put all my pieces back together again.
Labels: abuse, body connection, body memories, child abuse, child parts, dissociation, grieving, healing, inner child, recovery, therapy
January 10, 2007
Happy New Year & What's Happening
Hey there and Happy New Year. Yeah, I'm still alive, in some form or another. I went to stay at a hotel when I freaked out on Thanksgiving. Holidays during the past few years have gone quite well. Now, this year, I'm back to "holidays=crisis."
As I was still between therapists, I thought working with some of my survivor workbooks might help me. I dug out my old The Courage To Heal. After doing a few exercises, I decided to take another flip through the whole book. I then decided to put it down, because I didn't see enough stuff on dissociation in there. (I don't think they talked about the subject much back when the book was published.) I've come to the conclusion that dissociation is a key issue for me...and I need to look at it.
It's an issue I feel I finally need to really face and look at honestly. (That's the main reason I've come to feel that it was a blessing in disguise that I lost my therapist--he really had very little experience in dissociative issues and we never really addressed it in therapy).
So, I put good ole TCTH down and looked into The Stranger In The Mirror instead. I realized I had barely skimmed the book since I've owned it. This time, I dove into it with my highlighter marker. I decided to take the dissociation scale "tests" in each chapter...and be very honest with my answers. When I did the interview developed by Colin A. Ross and got the DDNOS diagnosis, I wasn't as honest as I needed to be. Anything that seemed too "out there" I flatly denied. I've been in denial about a lot of things for a long time.
I still may end up with the vague DDNOS--the ever-popular Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified-- but I want all the issues to come out so I can get help with them. I've been wanting to get as much info as I can, because I was (am) really starting to fear I might have full-blown DID.
I still have never found any items in my possession that I have not known where they came from. And, as an adult anyway, there is not a lot of amnesia.
I called my twin sister to talk about it. I was afraid she would freak out and just not want to discuss such a thing. She surprised me by being very calm and open. She admitted that she had greeting cards and florists cards in her memento box from a man named, um, let's say Phil, who she didn't know. I had never heard of Phil either. WHOA!!
And my sister said that when she met me down in Arizona that time (during one of my dissociative fugue periods) she really didn't know me. HA! I could say the same for her on numerous occasions. I wonder if dissociation has a lot to do with her extreme volatile behavior that I've witnessed at times. Hhhmmmmmmm...
My dissociative fugues do seem quite severe and disturbing to me. Probably the scariest one was when I ended up lost and had to spend the night in the mountains of the National Forest with no food or water...not even a jacket. I'm sure at some points I was just running blind--a storm came up, the lightning scared the hell out of me, and I was soaked to the skin with the rain--but I think there were other points when I thought I'd just make it over that next pass and start a new life there. I also have other brief snippets where I think I was convinced my father was chasing me and was going to kill me. Whew, I feel weird admitting these details.
The amnesia I have in between the time I was soaking wet (I do recall the sound of water squishing in my shoes) and then completely dry is amazing to me. I mean, by the time I had any awareness of where I was, I was totally dry--no dampness at all! And by noon the next day, it was obvious that I had completely underestimated how long it would take me to get out and find the road. I must have really wandered a long way before I stopped when it got dark. The Search And Rescue team that was looking for me must have really underestimated the distance as well. They never even came close to finding me (in the end, I found the road myself).
Then there are the trips to Arizona. I assumed new identities both times (I've never admitted that to anyone before). The first time I was Ellen Hopkins, then Ellen Murphy. I was really sure--or at least there was some part of me that was certain, at least most of the time--that I was going to start a new life down there. I think I oscillated between this plan and thinking that being away from home, where nobody I knew could find me, was a good place to commit suicide.
My twin said she didn't even know who I was down there. I don't know why she never told me that before. I wonder how many times my husband hasn't known who the hell I am...and he's never told me.
I still carry so much shame about those Arizona trips. You see, I stayed in domestic violence ("battered women") shelters for at least part of the time on both occasions. I'm so afraid they're gonna come and arrest me for using those services when that wasn't really my situation. I can't remember which trip it was, but one of those times I vaguely remember crying on the phone to some kind intake person. It's so freaky: It was like I could hear myself crying and talking, but it wasn't really me, and I wasn't in control.
I've always said I'm a terrible liar and I'm no actress. But, I cried those tears and I think I really was very scared and freaked out. I was really running from something--it just wasn't some husband or boyfriend who was beating me up.
My sister explained some details that occurred in Arizona during the trip that she witnessed. I have no memory of some of the stuff. So, I guess there's some amnesia there as well.
The point is, the dissociative fugues have been major for me. And it feels like there's been more than one "part" of me involved--definitely things that I don't think I felt in control of. And here's the thing that I've needed to admit: I'm still doing it!
Shit! I've got to take a deep breath here. I'm going to have to admit this next part to my new therapist (I start with someone new tomorrow. I'm scared as hell but trying to remain hopeful). I don't know if I can admit this to my husband.
When I left on Thanksgiving, it was a plan to leave my husband. I think it was another version--some long, drawn out form--of some kind of fugue. It was my plan, again, to start a new life. I had made up my mind that, if I couldn't find a job, I would just try to get on disability.
The thing is, though, that I've promised--we have a deal--that I will no longer try to kill myself, and I don't self-harm/scratch anymore, and I don't run away anymore. I can go away to a hotel or trauma program, but we need to tell my husband where so he doesn't worry. Then there's the worry and the promise never to do anything again that's like abandoning my son. God, I have so much guilt and shame about these things from the past! Aaahhh! Anyway, so the move-out plan was a way to start a new life but get around all these conditions.
As I was still between therapists, I thought working with some of my survivor workbooks might help me. I dug out my old The Courage To Heal. After doing a few exercises, I decided to take another flip through the whole book. I then decided to put it down, because I didn't see enough stuff on dissociation in there. (I don't think they talked about the subject much back when the book was published.) I've come to the conclusion that dissociation is a key issue for me...and I need to look at it.
It's an issue I feel I finally need to really face and look at honestly. (That's the main reason I've come to feel that it was a blessing in disguise that I lost my therapist--he really had very little experience in dissociative issues and we never really addressed it in therapy).
So, I put good ole TCTH down and looked into The Stranger In The Mirror instead. I realized I had barely skimmed the book since I've owned it. This time, I dove into it with my highlighter marker. I decided to take the dissociation scale "tests" in each chapter...and be very honest with my answers. When I did the interview developed by Colin A. Ross and got the DDNOS diagnosis, I wasn't as honest as I needed to be. Anything that seemed too "out there" I flatly denied. I've been in denial about a lot of things for a long time.
I still may end up with the vague DDNOS--the ever-popular Dissociative Disorder Not Otherwise Specified-- but I want all the issues to come out so I can get help with them. I've been wanting to get as much info as I can, because I was (am) really starting to fear I might have full-blown DID.
I still have never found any items in my possession that I have not known where they came from. And, as an adult anyway, there is not a lot of amnesia.
I called my twin sister to talk about it. I was afraid she would freak out and just not want to discuss such a thing. She surprised me by being very calm and open. She admitted that she had greeting cards and florists cards in her memento box from a man named, um, let's say Phil, who she didn't know. I had never heard of Phil either. WHOA!!
And my sister said that when she met me down in Arizona that time (during one of my dissociative fugue periods) she really didn't know me. HA! I could say the same for her on numerous occasions. I wonder if dissociation has a lot to do with her extreme volatile behavior that I've witnessed at times. Hhhmmmmmmm...
My dissociative fugues do seem quite severe and disturbing to me. Probably the scariest one was when I ended up lost and had to spend the night in the mountains of the National Forest with no food or water...not even a jacket. I'm sure at some points I was just running blind--a storm came up, the lightning scared the hell out of me, and I was soaked to the skin with the rain--but I think there were other points when I thought I'd just make it over that next pass and start a new life there. I also have other brief snippets where I think I was convinced my father was chasing me and was going to kill me. Whew, I feel weird admitting these details.
The amnesia I have in between the time I was soaking wet (I do recall the sound of water squishing in my shoes) and then completely dry is amazing to me. I mean, by the time I had any awareness of where I was, I was totally dry--no dampness at all! And by noon the next day, it was obvious that I had completely underestimated how long it would take me to get out and find the road. I must have really wandered a long way before I stopped when it got dark. The Search And Rescue team that was looking for me must have really underestimated the distance as well. They never even came close to finding me (in the end, I found the road myself).
Then there are the trips to Arizona. I assumed new identities both times (I've never admitted that to anyone before). The first time I was Ellen Hopkins, then Ellen Murphy. I was really sure--or at least there was some part of me that was certain, at least most of the time--that I was going to start a new life down there. I think I oscillated between this plan and thinking that being away from home, where nobody I knew could find me, was a good place to commit suicide.
My twin said she didn't even know who I was down there. I don't know why she never told me that before. I wonder how many times my husband hasn't known who the hell I am...and he's never told me.
I still carry so much shame about those Arizona trips. You see, I stayed in domestic violence ("battered women") shelters for at least part of the time on both occasions. I'm so afraid they're gonna come and arrest me for using those services when that wasn't really my situation. I can't remember which trip it was, but one of those times I vaguely remember crying on the phone to some kind intake person. It's so freaky: It was like I could hear myself crying and talking, but it wasn't really me, and I wasn't in control.
I've always said I'm a terrible liar and I'm no actress. But, I cried those tears and I think I really was very scared and freaked out. I was really running from something--it just wasn't some husband or boyfriend who was beating me up.
My sister explained some details that occurred in Arizona during the trip that she witnessed. I have no memory of some of the stuff. So, I guess there's some amnesia there as well.
The point is, the dissociative fugues have been major for me. And it feels like there's been more than one "part" of me involved--definitely things that I don't think I felt in control of. And here's the thing that I've needed to admit: I'm still doing it!
Shit! I've got to take a deep breath here. I'm going to have to admit this next part to my new therapist (I start with someone new tomorrow. I'm scared as hell but trying to remain hopeful). I don't know if I can admit this to my husband.
When I left on Thanksgiving, it was a plan to leave my husband. I think it was another version--some long, drawn out form--of some kind of fugue. It was my plan, again, to start a new life. I had made up my mind that, if I couldn't find a job, I would just try to get on disability.
The thing is, though, that I've promised--we have a deal--that I will no longer try to kill myself, and I don't self-harm/scratch anymore, and I don't run away anymore. I can go away to a hotel or trauma program, but we need to tell my husband where so he doesn't worry. Then there's the worry and the promise never to do anything again that's like abandoning my son. God, I have so much guilt and shame about these things from the past! Aaahhh! Anyway, so the move-out plan was a way to start a new life but get around all these conditions.
I think it might be "derealization", I'm not sure, but I noticed a couple of times while I was in the hotel over the holiday season, that I just kinda "woke up" a few times and looked around confused. I would ask myself, "How did I get here? What am I doing here?"
Before I forget, I want to write about the paranoia. (This entry is lifted, pretty much straight out of my paper journal--sorry if it's rambly.) My sister said I was acting really paranoid in Arizona. I remember being surprised at how paranoid I felt a few times just recently down in Dallas, too.
I think the paranoia was one of the things that scared the shit out of me that I may actually be paranoid schizophrenic. Being "schizo" or "crazy" scares me way more than being DID...as much as that scares me.
I know that's why I wasn't totally honest on the Ross dissociative interview before. I've always been on the lookout for anything that would alert others that I'm crazy. That's why, when I used to self-harm, I never cut. I only scratched and I always did it in a hidden place, like under my hair. That's why, when I get my "fillers" going, repeating a phrase over and over in my head, if I'm reinforcing it by tapping out an accompanying beat with my finger or thumb, I always hide my hand.
I've been in such denial about my dissociation because I was so afraid I was just crazy (just like my homeless father). I so distinctly remember--about 12 years ago--first getting The Courage To Heal and reading some account of a survivor who floated out of her body and witnessed her molestation from the safe distance of her bedroom's ceiling light. At the time, I actually read that and said to myself, "Now that's crazy! I've never done anything like that!" Of course, that was way before I retrieved so many CSA memories--like the fact that I used to dissociate as a young child by pretending I was a turtle safe in my shell, and I would "go to the light" of the bathroom window during the extreme trauma of the abuse and near-death in the shower.
I guess I've been so afraid that my mother could be right: I just have some "chemical imbalance" (as she calls it) like my father. That evil woman! That would be so convenient for her! I don't want it to be anything "organic!" I want my diagnosis to be the result of human-inflicted trauma. YOU DID THIS TO ME!
But, the dissociation does scare me a lot. The voices are especially freaky. I guess that's another reason I thought I was schizo. (I mean no disrespect to individuals who have this disorder. I just have a hard time spelling the entire, correct term.) When I first noticed the voices, I downplayed them. (That's called "minimization," right?) "Oh, yes," I told myself, "this is just an example of those "old tapes" everyone talks about; those mean things my parents told me as a kid." I certainly do have these, like so many survivors do. If it's, "You're too sensitive," then it's my mother. "You're a piece of shit," is my father.
But this voice--these voices--are different. For one thing, they say things that my mother and father didn't say. Also, I don't hear my father's voice, or my mother's. Who is it? One voice is very mean, cruel and nasty, that's for sure.
And the thing that I've finally had to admit is that sometimes...someone answers back! And it's not always the same type of response or the same "person" answering back, either. Sometimes it's a scared little girl who is all apologetic: "Okay. I'm sorry." Other times, it's an in-your-face, angry teenager: "Just shut up!" Other times (I've noticed more recently) it's a wise, calm voice of someone aware: "Now, that's not helpful. We're not going to talk like that."
Then there are the regressions. I've noticed these for a long time (six or seven years). It's one of the reasons I feel compelled to run away sometimes--I don't want my son to see me in that state. I used to think of them all as strictly flashbacks. But, I'm coming to realize that some of the regressions don't seem to be related to any memory at all.
When I was reading "Stranger," one regression caught me by surprise. I was sitting on the bed in the hotel and my butt started getting numb, so I decided to take a break and get something to drink. Of course, to be honest, there was a fear factor. I was just about to take the "Identity Confusion" test in the book. I was standing in my hotel room's kitchenette and I started to unravel.
Sometimes, I can almost, literally, feel myself getting small. I quickly ran back to the bed and grabbed my cozy blanket and stuffed animal. I began to rock. This is not unusual. What happened next most definitely was.
I could hear someone saying, "I no bad girl. I good girl. Please, no. No hurt. No, no, no!" I could feel my lips moving, but it wasn't really me.
Just as I was trying to be present in some way and wrap my brain around what was happening, I heard another voice. This one was inside my head. My lips weren't moving this time and the voice was new to me. It was a young woman's voice. She very calmly and clearly stated, "Nina comes out when we're in the shower."
Whoa!! What?! Who the hell is Nina? I don't know who that is.
To tell the truth, on and off now for a while, I've half expected to discover "personalities" and expected them to have the inner child names I "came up with" when I was doing inner child work with a therapist back in Illinois. There's Tina. She's tiny--maybe two or three. There's Marsha; a little bit older, I think. Then, there's Sarah. She's about eight and is starting to get very cynical and mistrusting. She's always on guard. I think Rena is a rebellious teenager, and then there's Samantha who is older--a young woman. I've never let myself get to know Rena or Samantha much. Honestly, Rena scares the crap out of me.
But, this Nina? I have no idea who she is at all. I can, however, guess why her name ends in "A" like all the others. My twin sister's name ends in "A." She got the pretty goddess name and I got stuck with the old lady name, Marjorie. I've always hated that name. Marj is better, but I've never really liked it either.
Then there's the "person" who absolutely hates my husband. I feel so guilty about it. He's been so loyal and good to me. I hate to admit any part hates him. But, it's important. I just know this person had a major role in the "leaving my husband" plan. It was very frightening the other night. Back here at home now, I woke up about four in the morning. This in itself is not unusual when I'm going through a period of not sleeping well. What was freaky was that I awoke and immediately felt like someone else. I've never been aware of anything like this before. It's a weird thing to wake up to/with.
This person who I was realized she was lying next to my husband. She hates him! She doesn't want to be here. Here's what kinda went on in my head following: "OK. Get a grip. I'm not going to fly out of this bed and run away at 4:00 a.m. Shit! This is why I was in the hotel. I'm trapped in this place! OK. Calm down. Who is this?" It wasn't like I was asking anyone. I was just thinking, and trying to figure it out, right?
My answer came when I had a thought: "It's Lisa." I didn't hear any voice this time. It was just me coming up with a logical choice of who it could be. But, Lisa? Who the hell is she? Well, I don't know at the moment. But, thankfully, I think I've found a skilled therapist who knows about dissociation. With her help, I feel hopeful. I feel hopeful that, whoever Lisa (or Nina) is, she can help me more than hurt me.
I'm not going to turn away this time. I'm not going to turn on my brain "fillers" and say, "La, La, La! I can't hear you!" I'm going to listen and find out, finally, who I really am, what I'm dealing with, and where I'm going. I hope there are still some blogger friends out there, hanging on, and willing to be with me for what is probably going to be a very long, strange trip.
My new therapist does not seem afraid, freaked out, or intimidated at all by any of this. I've had a few phone conversations and two face-to-face interviews with her. She seems up to the task. That's why I've chosen her. She also seems very understanding, compassionate and optimistic. I really need that type of help right now. She says that I've always had help and I'm lucky that way. She says I've created my own help...and that's a good thing. I'm gonna try my best to start seeing it that way.
Labels: alters, awareness, child abuse, child parts, DID, dissociation, grounding, holidays, inner child, safety, self-help books, self-injury, system, therapy, trauma processing, triggers
