Survivors Can Thrive!

So, I had a request in the comments of my last post that I will try to address here. I know, I know, I still have some guest blog and interview requests that I have yet to fulfill, but those folks aren't exactly coming to my blog every day, either. This is for a reader that I know wants to hear about something specific right now.

I feel very honored, actually. This new reader is coming to my dot com site, Survivors Can Thrive! and my blog at the referral of her therapist. I had no idea anything like that was happening. I'm am touched. And like I said, I feel honored.

This reader wanted to know if I had any advice about how to help her share an abuse memory during a counseling session, but, "not go through and experience it again in my mind." I told this reader that I always hesitate to give advice and that I am aware that each person's healing experience is different.

However, this is a huge survivor healing issue. At times, I am really struck by how much it sucks that someone else did this to us--abused us and caused trauma--but we are the ones who must be responsible for our healing and do the work to recover. But, this is the ironic reality.

Another ironic reality, that I have struggled to come to terms with in my own healing, is the fact that I have not been successful at finding any way to go around the painful feelings associated with the abuse. It sounds cliche, but for me, I have found that I really have to go through it to get to the other side. For me, this "other side" is life more in the moment, feeling safe, having functional (as opposed to dysfunctional) relationships, and no longer feeling completely disabled about the prospect of living my day-to-day life.

Now, before I launch into my battle cry of "feel the feelings; it's the key to healing," and you tune my pie-in-the-sky message out, let me tell you a little bit about how I came to this point and this conclusion.

First of all, you need to know that I have had many false starts in therapy and have really floundered many, many times. One of the reasons I blog and keep my dot com site going is in the hopes that some survivors reading about my story can avoid at least some of the long, drawn out, painful detours of recovery that I've experienced. For starters, I have been working on recovery from extreme child abuse, incest, torture, PTSD and a dissociative disorder for about 15 years. I think you could call me a therapy "veteran."

Now, I didn't even find out I had PTSD until about 10 years ago. Then, it took me a while to realize that a diagnosis of a dissociative disorder was appropriate for my situation. That came about eight years ago. I finally got a really excellent therapist who has a lot of expertise (over 20 years worth) in dissociation in January of 2007. You can read about how I started really (finally) working on my dissociative disorder in this post from 1/07 here.

Back before I found my current therapist--and after my family moved to Colorado--I was given the diagnosis of PTSD. At this time, I attempted EMDR. As many of us know by now, EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. You can link to some EMDR sites on my dot com site's "Treatment & Research" page here.

My first experience with EMDR started out amazingly hopeful but almost ended in disaster. The practitioner that I went to the first time around promised me that the feelings I would experience surrounding a particular trauma memory that we would process in this way would be significantly reduced, or neutralized so to speak, at the end of a session. I want to say that there were times when I experienced this to actually be the case. Unfortunately, my first EMDR therapist neglected to get me appropriately grounded before we started doing EMDR and I became extremely re-traumatized.

I always tell folks, who ask me what I think about EMDR, how important I feel that the grounding piece is. Now, I'm not a doctor, and I would have a hard time advising anyone on exactly what they would need to do, individually, to get grounded before this type of therapy. But, I do advise that you look into the prospect of finding a T who is an expert in traumatic stress if you want to go this route. That person should know exactly what to do to help you get grounded before EMDR...and will know what this means. My second therapist here in Colorado is an expert in traumatic stress and he taught me many grounding exercises. Some of them I still do, almost on a daily basis. If you want to find one of these experts yourself, there are links to lists of therapists who are board certified experts in traumatic stress on the same Treatment page of my dot com site that I mentioned earlier.

But you know what? Reducing the feeling stress associated with my childhood trauma hasn't worked out to be the key to my healing at all. I didn't hear this battle cry of "Feel the Feelings" until I went down to the Colin Ross program down in Dallas in September of 2006. There is a link to the Colin A. Ross Institute For Psychological Trauma on my dot com Treatment page as well.

Down in Dallas, they were really big on "Feel The Feelings!" I didn't really know why at the time, but after I allowed myself to feel the buried feelings associated with my response to my childhood abuse, I would feel amazingly better. First, I would be amazed that the feelings didn't somehow kill me...then I'd feel devastated...then, slowly, I'd feel better...somehow more healed. One of the "Feel-The-Feelings" exercises I did with materials from the Ross program is talked about in this post here from December of 2006. It really gets into the feelings of grief and loss.

What I later learned is that my dissociated parts were keeping many of the feelings from me in order to protect me. A child just can't come face to face with those kinds of life-shattering feelings during the childhood abuse and still expect to be a kid, go to school, and grow up to be an adult. It was my dissociated parts who really needed to realize (and still continue this process today) that I am now not going to die when I get in touch with these feelings. Also, they need to know that they can now let go of their burden. I am the adult and I can carry it on my own now, with the help of my therapist.

One of the things my current therapist always comes back to, in regards to her training, is something called the BASK model. Unfortunately, I can never find much written about it. If I had a book on it, I would add it to my survivor-to-thriver library. I do know that it was developed by Bennett Braun as a model of dissociation. The letters in the BASK acronym stand for Behavior, Affect, Sensation and Knowledge. You can read a little bit about it using this link here.

Here's what I understand about BASK: First of all, my dissociation kept all Knowledge--the "K" in BASK-- of the sexual abuse and torture from my conscious awareness. But, I started to get clues to how my childhood abuse led to my disorder by my Behavior--the "B" in BASK. One of the classic behaviors I exhibited was gravitating toward other abusers. I had "Victim" stamped on my forehead for years. One of the "Sensation" mysteries that always astounded me was my extremely high tolerance for pain. But later, when I was diagnosed with PTSD and started therapy about my child abuse, I started having body memories of physical pain.

What was missing for such a long time was the "Affect" piece. These are my feelings and how I express them. If you--like me at one time--are walking around like a robot with a smile plastered on your face that doesn't seem sincere, I'm going to guess you are also not yet dealing with the feelings, and have little affect showing at this time.

My therapist firmly believes that I need to join all four of these BASK pieces--Behavior, Sensation, Knowledge and Affect--as they relate to my trauma memories, in order to stop relying on dissociation in order to cope...and to recover and heal. I have to say that I've come to the point where I agree with her.

It's an on-going process. I am continuing the journey. But, I am amazed and truly pleased that I am now finding myself much further down along the path than I ever thought I would be!

Labels: body memories, child abuse, dissociation, feelings, healing, journey, parts, PTSD, recovery, Survivors Can Thrive, therapy, torture, trauma processing

Well, I was going to write about eugenics and explore "what if I had never been born" for the birthday-themed Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse this month.

TRIGGER WARNING! Some examples of dissociative outbursts and child abuse ahead. Please stay safe.

But, I had what felt like a set-back the other day. I got really triggered and reacted violently. I spent almost a whole day disparaging myself and even had some self-harm return. I tried so hard to pull myself back, but felt so out of control. I pulled out every grounding trick in the book. I did grounding exercises I haven't even thought of in years. But, it still took me about 24 hours to feel like myself again.

I was really disappointed because I allowed some behaviors to come out that I thought I had contracted against with various parts. I've discovered--and begun to work with--two new parts in the last few weeks. Maybe this is yet another new part who has no such contract with me. I'm not sure.

This got me wondering. Just how is a part "born" anyway? Mine seem to have come about for a whole plethora of reasons. Some are like full-fledged personalities and have tried to run away and start their own lives or have pushed me aside and tried to live life their own way with me out of the way, so to speak.

Some parts have very well-defined roles. Many of these roles are quite dysfunctional for my life now, so I've had to define and assign new roles to some parts. Other parts are what my T refers to as "partial splits," without much of a fleshed-out personality of their own at all. These splits seem to have come about for very specific, time-limited functions designed to keep me alive in my childhood's life-threatening situations.

For example, the first part I ever heard of by name--this was three years ago--was Nina. I was told she "comes out when we're in the shower." If you've ever read the account on my dot com site called, "A Fear Of Plastic Shower Curtains," You can understand why my helpless child self might have wanted to create a part just to take over when I need to take a shower. I haven't worked specifically with Nina via any kind of dialogue, but I have done EMDR on the shower torture incidents and I've done a lot of comforting and self-care work in therapy around this daily hygiene challenge.

In the very first chapter of The Dissociative Identity Disorder Sourcebook, Deborah Bray Haddock explains, "In systems where extreme splitting occurs, clients report a host of personality fragments created to do specific tasks, such as cooking, cleaning the house or going to school. Once the task is performed, the fragment becomes inactive."

In the book, The Haunted Self: Structural Dissociation and the Treatment of Chronic Traumatization, the authors talk about "a fragment that has only a minimal set of response patterns to stimuli, life history, and range of emotion/affect but has knowledge for a short period of time." They go on to say that the actions of some of these fragments are very specialized. "Some...have a very specific purpose during traumatization."

In my case, I have another split or fragment, that I don't have a name for, who came about for the sole purpose of helping me hold my breath for a long time when my father would try to drown me in the bath water. I don't know much about these partial splits or fragments, but it makes sense to me that they would not be very developed if their survival purpose was quite distinct and unique to specific situations that I don't repeatedly come across throughout the day as I go about the business of life.

Then, I have some parts who I have named--or labeled--to match their functions. These functions are more broad than the two I've just mentioned, but still don't lead these labeled parts to control the body for any great length of time. There's Sentry, who I first started getting cooperation with in March of 2007. He was a great help to me when some creep followed me on the streets of Chicago once. Sentry is not afraid to get in any one's face in order to protect me. Unfortunately, he was getting up in peoples faces in inappropriate ways that didn't match present-day situations. So, I had to contract with him to stay located in an internal lighthouse and only "come to the rescue" if some stranger approaches me in a dark parking lot, or something like that.

I have another part I call Serena. But, she's not so much serene as she is still. That is, literally, her role: She keeps the body still so that there can be no self-harm or suicide attempts. I haven't felt her around much lately, but I sure coulda used her the other day when I slapped myself in the face seven or eight times. Luckily, I was able to stop myself rather quickly and vowed to engage in no further self-injury, even without any obvious help from Serena.

Whether my part splits are currently helpful in my day-to-day life, or the actions of these fragments are now dysfunctional for me as an adult living in a safe environment, I'm glad I'm learning about them. For a while, I was convinced that unless I found a part who had a high degree of autonomy and emancipation, I wasn't dealing with dissociated pieces of myself. This is one of the reasons why the "Man, I must be crazy" attitude persisted with me for such a long time.

If you are a dissociative child abuse survivor who is uncovering less complex personality fragments and doubting your diagnosis (or your sanity), I encourage you to read the two books I've mentioned in this post. There's a reason why even your smallest, simplest parts were "born" and you very well may be alive today because of them. So, even if I don't have a name for one of these partial personality fragments, I still make it a point to thank them. They helped keep me safe, they helped me stay sane.

Labels: aftermath, alters, birthdays, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, child abuse, dissociation, mapping, memory work, parts, self-care, torture, trauma, triggers

I Don't Know Who I Am by Marj aka Thriver on Polyvore.com


So, I'm feeling frustrated, disappointed and overwhelmed in the therapy department. The healing journey is, once again, feeling like an attempt to reach the Mt. Everest summit. Right now, I feel like I've hit a raging blizzard and I'm clawing the jagged rocks, trying not to slip back down, negating a thousand feet of hard-won ascent progress. To be honest, I feel like I need to set up camp and hunker down in my tent while I wait for the storm to pass.

Unfortunately, recovery from a trauma-induced dissociative disorder doesn't work that way. When the storm hits is when I have to muster up the strength and courage to work even harder and keep on climbing, even if it feels like I'm barely putting one foot in front of the other and I can't see where I'm going.

What prompted this, you ask? Well, I've been talking to my twin sister a lot lately about the progress she made at the WIIT program --The Women's Institute For Incorporation Therapy--in Florida. It's a one-of-a-kind treatment facility that practices incorporation therapy for dissociative trauma survivors. The more I talked with her, the more I wanted to try to attend this program myself. I feel like it could help me progress light years faster than the progress I'm making in individual therapy right now.

Let me give you some background detail that may explain why I got so excited about this idea. You see, I've been working a lot lately with parts that I used to call the "punisher parts" in the beginning. In the last year, it's really become apparent to me that these self-harming parts work overtime to maintain the abuse secret.

Here's the scenario I often get, but have just become aware of and started to understand: A young part starts to feel some feelings (not allowed!) of sadness, abandonment, fear, etc. Then a part I like to call a "firefighter" type comes out and jumps through all kinds of crazy hoops trying to shut off/down the feelings. This could include running away in dissociative fugues, getting suicidal, getting drunk, over-spending, etc. etc. Then, one of these protector (punisher) parts comes out and says, "You're getting out of hand. You're drawing too much attention to yourself. You are acting crazy. You're going to blow it. People will find out the secret." So then there's usually some self-injury type behavior. The problem with this is that it brings about huge feelings of shame and guilt, which threatens to start the whole feelings--avoiding feelings spiral all over again. So, I have a part named Serena who takes over and shuts the whole body down. I don't move, I don't talk, I don't do anything.

I'm trying to break this cycle of dissociative dysfunction. I have found--yeah, my therapist was right--that most of these self-destructive parts are really trying to be protective. They think that, if the secret gets out, I am going to be killed. I have found (as scary as they are, at first, to approach) that they are often quite cooperative once we get a dialogue going, get a contract not to self-harm "signed," and then I find them some more appropriate job to do that makes them still feel useful. I have a part named Sentry, for example, who does NOT get to be inappropriate and in people's faces anymore, but he gets the job of always being alert and aware of my surroundings whenever I'm getting out of my car and it's dark outside.

Sounds great, right? Well the difficulty I'm having now is that I've got a few of these protector (punisher) parts "standing down" with contracts and/or new jobs and now all hell is breaking loose with lots of previously-exiled little parts wanting to tell me their part of the story. They're all clamoring to be heard. They have sadness, fear, betrayal, rejection, abandonment, etc. issues to express and abuse memories they have been holding and are now ready to hand off to me. I told my therapist I feel like there's a long line of them stretched out in the dark, waiting to come into the light and be healed. This is great healing/therapy news and sign of progress. But, you can only imagine how overwhelming it is. It's gotten so bad that I'm back to a lot of PTSD symptoms like huge startle response and triggers that are sending me into full-blown flashbacks again. These are symptoms that I've had under control for a few years. So, you can understand why I fear I'm already starting to backslide.

I really thought that the WIIT program would be a great place to process all this in some kind of timely manner with lots of support and without the distractions of my special needs son, my husband, house cleaning, cooking, blah blah blah, etc. Well, I finally got hold of a real, live person at WIIT on the phone yesterday. I was hoping, since I am private pay (no mental health coverage for this pre-existing condition; we pay cash), I would be able to customize my own treatment plan there. Nope. This intake person I talked to wasn't budging. She told me that out-of-state patients are required to spend a minimum of one week inpatient at this facility and then two weeks of intensive outpatient. The alternative is to stay two whole weeks inpatient. She quoted me a price for this that was a small fortune. It was enough to pay for a new car, as a matter of fact!

So, the long and the short of it is that I'm not going. Crap! I might try to stay in a hotel for several days and see my therapist for several hours for a week and see how much we're able to accomplish that way. I don't know. I'll keep you all posted. Pray for a miracle??

Labels: dissociation, journey, overwhelm, parts, PTSD, self-injury, therapy, trauma, triggers

Well, here I am trying to drag my butt out of the Dissociative Twilight Zone again. I've got the Holiday edition of The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse to get up for tomorrow. When thinking about the holidays (and my son's birthday on New Year's Day) I've been thinking I should hold up on the therapy a little these days. I guess I don't want to get into anything too prone to wig me out, just before Christmas and my therapist's upcoming vacation when she will be unavailable.

But, then something happened that really freaked me out and reminded me that I need to stick with the therapy, or dissociative "incidents" tend to sneak up and bite me in the butt. So, I was working on the Blog Carnival and I had three or four entries that did not come through the standard submission form at Blog Carnival dot com. One of them I really wanted to include but it was given to me as a "read-only" file.

Now, if you know me at all you know that I refer to myself as a "Cyber Klutz." But, I thought I was being really slick by putting said "read-only" file into Microsoft Word and attaching it to an e-mail from my home account (Hotmail), which I then sent on to my Survivors Can Thrive! e-mail account.

Almost immediately after pressing the "send" button, I got a reply. It was from my Survivors Can Thrive! account. Some sort of automatically-generated response thingy. Here's what it said:

I'm on Hiatus for the SCT Blog.  Be back soon!  ;)




What the hell?

I showed it to my husband.  He's a cyber klutz too, so I don't know why I bothered.   He had no clue.

I had an idea that this was some sort of auto-reply thing, but that was it.

I didn't think I knew how to set something like that up.

And I have never recalled referring to Survivors Can Thrive! as "SCT."

As I'm trying to figure this out, in my horror, freaked-outness and confusion, I'm hoping and praying that every e-mail that ever attempts to come into my inbox hasn't been getting this reply ever since my blog was on hiatus back in the summer. That was back in July for crying out loud!

Oh yeah, at the time I "felt so good" and I actually wrote this in that "Hi and Hiatus" July post: "To be honest, I've got a lot going on and am not focusing on the "Surviving-to-Thriving" or therapy issues much right now. I think I'm going to take a bloggy/therapy/"Survivors Can Thrive" break for three or four weeks. I'm doing well and accomplishing other things...and that feels good, really."

Uh huh. That's right before the dissociative sh*t hit the fan big time. Or was it way before that? No wonder I always used to run away in a dissociatve fugue when I'd be this out of it in the past. This is sooo embarrassing.

So, anyway, I'm hoping and praying that nobody else has seen this crazy reply, and then--literally, moments later--I get this e-mail from JIP:

wouldnt have a clue what the hell that means but ok LOL

> Date: Tue, 16 Dec 2008 19:42:02 -0800
> From: thriver@survivorscanthrive.com
> To: xxx@hotmail.com
> Subject: Re: from JIP
>
> I'm on Hiatus for the SCT Blog. Be back soon! ;)




Doh! At least JIP had a good sense of humor about it. I e-mailed her right back and apologized, telling her that there wasn't anything personal meant by the auto-reply e-mail. I hope that all of you out there who also may have received such an auto-reply can just laugh at me and also not take it personally.

Well, long story somewhat shorter: I finally searched around my e-mail homepage and found something called "Edit your Options" which I hadn't remembered ever visiting before, and I deselected the "Away Message Enabled" and the away message that I don't remember ever typing.

Aaacccckkkk! My therapist said, after all the very intense work we've been doing since August--sometimes as much as five hours per week--that we were doing some integration. This doesn't feel very integrated. Please send up a quick prayer or hope into the universe for me that no major nonintegrated, dissociative stuff happens during the holidays of the next few weeks. I hate to be walking on eggshells with myself, wondering what other social faux pas I have or will have committed and "Doh!" dissociative little treats I'll find.

*Sigh* I guess it's a good thing I'm off to another therapy appointment at 11 o'clock. Better get ready to go.

Labels: aftermath, alters, Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, blog carnivals, DID, dissociation, embarrassment, hiatus, holidays, part activity, parts, shame

Whew! I made it through Easter! It is always a difficult holiday for me. I did some T work with a part who clued me in on some of why it's so hard. Maybe more on that later.

Today, we took our son in for two hours of testing with this new guy. We will get to go over the results with him in about two weeks. Jesus, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this helps my sweetie punkin.

I'm exhausted. I need to rest. Thinking of all of you out there in cyber land.

Labels: holidays, parts, special needs kids, therapy

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.

Labels: Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, blog carnivals, inner child, links, love, meme, parts, survivor, survivor needs, trust

I don't know what the hell is going on. I've been trying to reach in and comfort those neglected child parts. I know I said that they keep slipping through my arms, but I really have been doing quite a bit to try to reach them. I do whatever I can to send them the message that they haven't been forgotten, that they are special and precious and that they deserve comfort, warmth, beauty, fun, etc.

I think I mentioned in an earlier post that I went out and bought a doll. She has been lovingly placed in a beautiful, antique doll carriage with cozy blankets and stuffed animals. I speak to her every day. I pat her, I sing to her. I rock her.

I've also had a big project I've been working on for the past several months. I built a dollhouse and I've been outfitting it to make it beautiful. Two little doll girls live in there with their very own angel. They have many toys and beautiful, comforting things around them.

The other day, I decided to go out and get some Christmas decorations for the dollhouse. Boy, did we have fun! We strung Christmas lights, put up a wreath, put up a beautiful treat-filled stocking at the fireplace mantel...and that's when I installed our angel.

I felt so much better after spending this special time with my child parts. Because the holidays are such a stressful time of year for me (with moments prone to running away, etc.) I've really upped my child comforting routine. I do a little meditation pretty much every day. It involves some stretching, grounding techniques and affirmations. Every day I affirm: "We are surrounded by love and beauty. We are enfolded in light and safety." I also always add, "I love you, my Beautifuls."

I've been spending a lot of time curled up in the rocking chair with a soft, cozy throw. I rock and use soothing words to my parts. I read them children's "love stories." We play with the dollhouse. As a little treat--just to show them they're special--I've been putting whipped cream on my coffee lately and dousing it with Christmas sprinkles.

I felt so good that I actually started getting into the Christmas spirit a bit. We got our tree up this weekend and I finished my Christmas shopping. All our holiday greeting cards went out. I was on such a roll that I went in and announced to my T on Monday that I wanted Thursday off. While I was feeling good, and even experiencing a bit of holiday cheer (a major thing to experience at all for me), I recognized that this week was going to be quite stressful. I wanted to avoid becoming overwhelmed before my son is off from school for sixteen days.

On the calendar this week, We had practice for a band concert, a dentist appointment for me, the holiday band concert itself (my son plays the sax), a hockey game, and volunteer work at a food bank. In addition, my son has five tests at school this week and a large writing assignment due. (Since he has a learning disability, his parents are highly involved in studying and assignment completion--we don't do the work for him, but we make sure it gets done and give him a lot of help with it.) I thought two therapy sessions this busy week before Christmas was too much for me.

My T and I had been working on rage. I've had a lot of good grieving going on, especially over my mother's involvement in my abuse. Lately, I've been asking my therapist for assistance on the accompanying rage, with tips on safe anger work. We made a good head start in my T's office on Monday, and then I came home and did some louder, more physical work down in my basement.

At first, I felt great! I congratulated all the parts who were involved and we had a little treat to reward ourselves for our hard work.

Then, the fatigue set in. I was exhausted! After my son came home from school, I told him I had to lie down for a while. Before I knew it, dinner was over and my husband was taking our son to band practice. I had been in bed for something like four hours. The funny thing was, I hadn't been sleeping. I dozed off a couple of times, but it was only for a matter of minutes. I started to get the distinct feeling that I was hiding in there. I was starting to feel some fear (I think from some parts) but I wasn't sure what it was about. Maybe they were scared that we were going to get in trouble for expressing the anger.

While my son was at his practice, I forced myself up and out of bed. I made myself a decadent meal of pizza and Coke and had some pudding (with whipped cream and sprinkles, of course) for dessert. I ate while I watched TV and enjoyed the lights of the Christmas tree. I felt pretty good by the time my boys arrived back home.

The next morning I got out of bed in time to see a beautiful sunrise. (This is often a difficult time for me and I've never been a "morning person.") I went to check my e-mail and found that, after I complained to my son's teacher, she had postponed one of the four tests he was to have Tuesday to Friday. Yay! This was great!

This good news didn't seem to help my son's mood at all. He bitched and moaned about various things and then was loud and disrespectful to me. I told him I was angry and gave him some consequence, but the plug had been pulled out of the bathtub, so to speak. I was already swirling head first down the drain. I tried talking it over with my husband and got some of my anger out. I thought I was feeling a bit better by the time he left the house for work.

Unfortunately, this was the same morning that I was supposed to go back into the dentist for some crack repair and to update the doc on how my night mouth guard is working out. I have my anti-anxiety medication, so I thought I could do it. But, why the hell did I think I could handle it the week before Christmas??!!! That didn't seem very smart. I guess I just wasn't thinking when the dentist's office set up the appointment right before we left for our cruise. I was feeling so good then.

But, now, I had been majorly triggered by my son. Damn it! Why do I have to work my ass off to get out of my comfort zone and make a happy Christmas for our little family when I HATE CHRISTMAS...and then I just get treated like shit??!!

Oh shit, the fear closed in fast. I didn't end up hiding in a closet this time, but I curled myself up on the floor next to the Christmas tree. Sometimes, if I just give in to this for a little while, I can feel better and get on with my day. Maybe it's because my limbs always fall asleep; I'm eventually forced up and on with my day. This time, an hour went by, more time went by, and nothing was happening.

Have you ever asked one of your parts to come out and do something for you?

This is what I started doing, down there on the floor. I started negotiating. "Anybody up to the task in here? I can't do this. Anybody feel strong enough to handle the dentist visit? Please, anybody?"

I got no auditory response. The only thing I felt was Serena creeping in. You remember Serena--she's the one who comes and keeps the body totally still so that there's no injury, suicide attempts or running away. I wasn't sure exactly why she thought it so important to move in, but she was the only one responding.

It was all I could do to get up off the floor to go to the bathroom and call the dentist's office to tell them I couldn't make it in. Then, I moved to the bed. I just let Serena take over. I slept a little bit. But, mostly I just lay there, or I sat there propped up on my pillows, and stared into space for hours.

My mind was still working. I thought about what I would have for lunch. But, more hours went by and I never ate anything. I didn't even have to pee anymore because I'd had barely anything to drink all day. I thought about some clothes I would throw on. I knew I wasn't up to a shower, but the clothes I could do, right? I thought about getting those clothes on and picking my son up at school. I thought about calling the school to tell him I wasn't coming. I ended up getting his call and explaining to him that I was dissociated and it wasn't safe for me to drive in that condition. He'd have to walk home. By this time, I'd been staring at the walls for at least four or five hours.

I had those thoughts, like I said. But, I just couldn't get Serena to budge. Soon, I was negotiating for anybody besides Serena to come out and do anything to make my body move. I have this meditation that I do to collect everybody into this safe place I've visualized and installed in my mind. I count down from ten, like I'm descending stairs, then I open the doors to the safe place and sometimes we do a roll call there. At the very least, I'll assist a part who's hurting. I'll lead them to the porch swing and put them in the arms of the angel there.

This time, I went "down" there and I announced: "It's my turn to sit on the porch swing. I'm coming in and I want somebody else to come out for a while. I can't do this today. Somebody else will have to do it." I feel like an idiot admitting this desperation, when I'm the one who's supposed to be in charge and I'm the one who's supposed to get us to all integrate and all that. Smart move, huh?

Well, when nobody but Serena responded, I got royally pissed! I yelled something like, "Life isn't all just dollhouses and porch swings and sprinkles!" I then visualized myself slamming the door on the safe place room and storming back up those ten stairs. I wanted to add, "Screw all of you!!!"

So, I stayed immobilized and staring for a total of about eight hours yesterday. I dragged myself out of bed just in time to throw on some clothes, barely brush my hair and brush my teeth before attending my son's band concert like the walking dead. I didn't talk to anyone there. There was such a crowd. Maybe nobody noticed.

Labels: child parts, Christmas, dissociation, overwhelm, parts, trance states

Well, my concussion symptoms have subsided greatly. My memory's better and no more headaches. Hooray! I was having something akin to whiplash symptoms, and those are better now, too. All the scabs from my "road rash" are falling off. (That paints a pretty picture, now doesn't it?) The only thing left is the cracked rib, which will take about six weeks to heal, my doctor tells me. I'm still feeling some pain and discomfort with that, but I'm so much better and I am grateful.

Thanks to all you kind folks who stopped by with well wishes! You are, as always, greatly appreciated!

A little added bonus during my body healing is the fact that my parts have been quite calm most of the two plus weeks. I guess no parts really want to be in this banged-up body now. An interesting theory anyway. I have to admit, I've appreciated the break. It's also been a time for my husband and I to get all snuggly close and more affectionate with each other. That's a respite, for sure.

Now I'm off to visit some of you, my bloggy friends. Thanks for being so patient with my erratic visiting these past six weeks or so.

Labels: concussion, gratitude, healing, parts

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

Labels: alters, child parts, dissociation, inner child, parts, poem, Poetry, re-parenting, self-love, therapy

My sister has been gone for almost a week. I haven't heard a word from her. Maybe she launched into a busy phase, going after that new job prospect she told me about. Maybe she's mad at me because she doesn't think I was a good enough hostess during the three weeks she was here. Maybe she's just overwhelmed because she went back home to her twice-a-week therapy schedule.

I know I'm overwhelmed. There's a news flash, huh? Gee, how many times can you use the word "overwhelmed" in the same blog?

I waited until my sister's visit was over and then I did my big therapy assignment: the map. I was hoping the prospect of getting more organized, being able to prioritize recovery goals, and gaining more communication and cooperation among parts would outweigh the overwhelm.

I was wrong...initially anyway. Basically, this week, I've just been oscillating between pretending every thing's "fine" and "normal"--especially around my son who is now around every day with school out for the summer--and just shutting down. I've been keeping busy and distracted with mundane things like house cleaning, laundry and grocery shopping.

But, inside, I feel like my head is going to explode. I got slammed with a lot to digest with this map. I got confirmation on a couple of "inner child parts" I identified, then ignored, almost ten years ago. I first wrote about this back in this January post. An "inner child"--really inner teenager--part, Rena is now out, and I remember why I said she scared me! I solidified, on paper, several other parts I've been working with over the last few months. And, I got a few new surprises. Oh joy!

I was looking at the thing, staring back at me from the paper, and I went right back into the familiar, "I'm making all this shit up! This can't be real! I really am just crazy!"

I took the document into my therapist and part of me was hoping she'd clearly see this as well and announce something like, "You might as well rip this up and throw it away. And, while you're at it stop seeing me because I can't help you." Nope. No such luck. Instead, she wants a copy of the map! She said it would be quite helpful to her as my therapist. It was also the first session where she referred to my "System!"

Yikes! I gotta find a way to get used to living in this dissociative twilight zone; it keeps knocking me on my ass!

Labels: denial, dissociation, mapping, parts, recovery, system

Where am I? Good question. I seem to be getting lost in a sea of parts. I'm too overwhelmed to do it now, but one of these days, I'm thinking it might be a good idea to kinda map them all out.

Right now I'm dealing with a kind of cluster of parts. It's an urgent need. I have to try to work with these parts in order to stay physically safe. I'm not going to go into the triggering details, but I've had a return of some self-injury issues lately. Damn! It had been over three years since I've SI'd! Now I have to deal with that again.

Apparently there's a part who is convinced that I/we/somebody has to be punished. Oh goody. Like I didn't already receive enough punishment from my parents.

What really freaks me out is this part that I've discovered who is really identified with my perpetrator parents. She's especially identified with my mother. I've heard of this and read about this type of thing before. I just can't believe I'm doing it. I feel very frustrated and disgusted about it. Not to mention scared shitless.

About three weeks ago, after I got triggered really bad, I had an SI incident, but it didn't feel like it was me. For one thing, he didn't do it right and was doing it for entirely different reasons from what I consciously did it in the past. In the past, it was in a trance state--kind of a form of dissociation itself--and actually made me feel somewhat better because afterward I would think, "See, I'm alive. I matter at least this much."

This time it was a punishment for supposedly being a bad mother. This person (who felt male) thought he needed to inflict pain as punishment. My therapist and I have been calling this part "The henchman." Apparently, he works for the woman who's identified with my mother. In therapy, she didn't want to be bothered to talk to me or my T, but at home I had one scary encounter with her.

After running into the bathroom and locking the door (which I often do when I'm triggered and switching all over the place). I was having a conversation with DeeGee (as in D.G., which stands for "Doom and Gloom"). She tends to be a very black-or-white thinker and is usually very "Woe is me" negative. She was claiming that we never get a break with my son and I was begging to differ with her--things have been much better with him this school year.

All of a sudden, DeeGee quickly retreated and I got this terrifying feeling and visual. I don't usually get any kind of visual with my parts. I usually sense them, hear them, or they just kinda push me aside (to the back, whatever) and take over. This was like a palpable, terrifying presence in the room. You know, the kind that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. It was like some evil creature rising up out of the black deep. Then she spoke. Yikes, she sounded like my mother! She said, "You don't get a break. You don't deserve a break!" Aaaahhhh! I got out of there right away. My bathroom was no longer a safe place at that moment.

I was trying to figure out who this character reminded me of. Yes, a character; someone from a story. I have a boy who was not born until 1997. But, somehow I remember a character from the Disney movie, "The Little Mermaid." I had to Google her. Her name is Ursula, the octopus-type evil sea witch. Good grief! I've got someone like that living inside me? Lord help me!

Mercifully, I don't seem to be aware of her out and wreaking havoc very often. On the other hand, her henchman comes out whenever I think I'm a bad person and get triggered in that way. He wants to bash my head in. Enter another part who keeps the body still so that can't happen. I've been calling her Serena. She's not exactly serene, but she does seem to be successful at keeping everything calm. It's an eerie calm, really. An outside viewer would think me downright catatonic when she's out.

It's not that I'm depressed when I'm in this state. It's just that I don't move. The other day, my husband came home from work while I was sitting in a chair in this state. He finally asked, "Am I speaking to Marj? Where's Marj?" Serena spoke only seven words: "I'm here because I can stay calm." That about sums up her role.

Just the other day--when the urge to be physically violent was particularly overwhelming--Serena got very assertive. She stated very firmly and clearly that we were not permitted to look at anything, hear anything or think about anything. She said that I/we/the body could blink, swallow and breathe. And that was it. Period. My husband and son were arguing at the time and the sound was triggering me badly. So, I reclined on my bedroom floor right next to my humidifier. I clicked it on. It was able to drown out all sound. I stared at the blank, white ceiling. I must of stayed there for almost two hours.

Every time I started to think, "This is stupid." or "This is extreme and unnecessary," and started to get up off the floor, I realized the method to the madness. Anytime I started to think about anything, I got the strong urge to injure myself. So, instead of fighting it, I've just let Serena take over at these stressful times.

I'm starting to feel really ganged up on and out-numbered. But, I'm trying to remember that each part was created for a reason and plays a role. My T asked me if there was a part inside who believed they needed to be punished. I guess it makes sense for the punisher to have a punishee, doesn't it? We've been working on that this week. The pain is immense. I think the depths of the pain scares me even more than the horror of the evil.

I feel like some swimmer who thought she was strong and could take on the crossing of the English Channel. Only, now I'm out here in the water all alone and I realize what I'm crossing is vast. It's a vast sea of grief, pain, terror and horror. What I'm really attempting to cross is the entire Atlantic Ocean. I think, "Of my God! I should never have attempted this! I've got to turn back!" The problem is, I'm halfway across now and it would take just as long to go back as it would to continue on.

Here's the other thing: I have to do it for that little girl who is so convinced that she has no value whatever and deserves all the abuse she gets. She's lost there; scared and alone. I have to sacrifice whatever it takes to finally save her. She deserves that much. I deserve to rescue myself. Even if I have to swim an entire ocean to reach her...to reach the safe shore of my true self.

Labels: abuse, dissociation, parts, recovery

Holy blog carnival, Bat Man! Is it the last day of January already?! I just went to my e-mail and realized that I haven't visited my blog or e-mail since Saturday.

I guess we missed the January Blog Carnival. I'm so sorry. I swore to myself I would never let a month go by like that without a carnival.

I guess I've fallen down on the job. I certainly feel I've done the same with living up to the name "Thriver." That feels like a big, hideous joke to me right now. I think a name like "reeling, floundering basketcase" would be more descriptive at this point.

I think I've started to identify at least nine parts within me so far--14 if you count the original five "inner children" I started with almost a decade ago. Only a few are talking to me. Mostly, they wake me up at night with all the chatter. Sometimes it's like a town meeting with everyone yelling and trying to speak their piece at once. Sometimes it's two teenagers/young adults having a huge, loud gab fest. Other times it's like a negotiation or counseling session that I wake up and eavesdrop on. Sometimes they quiet down immediately when they realize I'm awake and aware. "Ssshhhh! She's listening!" Other times, I have to speak up, "Hhmmm hum...I'm trying to sleep here!"

The thing that's frustrating as hell is that it seems I'm almost always aware, at some level--I have very little complete amnesia--but I just don't seem to have any control! Aaarrggghh! My new therapist seems to think it is possible to have "parts" or "splits" but not have full-blown DID. Has anyone ever heard of that? I'm confused! I've never heard or read anything like that before! Excuse the swearing--but, Jesus Christ! I can't even do DID right! Not that I especially want to have DID. But, at least I know a little bit about that. And I know some people who are DID folks. At least then, I wouldn't feel so all alone.

At first I felt much calmer when I saw my new therapist. And, it was so refreshing to be with someone who seemed to know about this stuff and not be intimidated by it. I finally found someone who I didn't feel like a freak around. But, now...I just don't know. Does she really know what she's talking about?

I got so frustrated, nervous, desperate, doubtful and scared after my session on Monday and ended up having a huge fight with my husband. Some part--I believe--came out and got completely hysterical and then hateful and rageful with him. She ranted and raved for hours after he left. It was a miracle that I didn't self-harm, think of killing myself or run away again.

Then, what happened next was really out of this world--I spent the next two days being a man! This guy, who we are all dubbing, "Tough Guy" stepped in and decided to take control to keep everything quiet and everyone "in line."

Holy crap! That was bizarre! I woke up this morning and he was gone (or quiet, whatever). Even though he was a tyrant and scared everybody, I had kinda hoped he would stick around until my T session tomorrow so that she could meet him. Then, maybe, I could kinda get over this feeling that I continue to have: that I'm making all of this up.

My T wants me to sit down with each part and have scheduled times for interaction (so they don't keep waking me up instead) and she wants me to set certain ground rules with them. How the hell am I supposed to do that? These "people" just shove me aside like the guy who was out yesterday. My husband felt so rejected because this guy wouldn't hug him. It was like I was in the background--if that makes any sense--and I could see my husband through the fog. I just couldn't get to him to reassure him. Aaaahh! I feel more crazy and freakish than ever!

Anyway. Back to the blog carnival. I've had several people ask me about it. The problem is, I don't really know who's turn it is to host it next. At first, when I started the carnival, I wrote down everyone who offered to host, in the order that they came to me. Most of them have been hosts so far (except for one blogger who had some health issues to attend to): Scarlet Demon, ww, Mike and Lisa. But, I know there were at least two or three others. I have someone new who wants to host February's carnival, but I don't want to step on any toes. Is there anybody out there who really wants to host, who I seem to be forgetting? Let me know. Otherwise I'll let the blogger who e-mailed me go ahead and host in Feb. Thanks! And thanks for hanging in there with my reeling, blubbering self (selves). ;)

Labels: Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse, child abuse, child parts, DID, dissociation, mapping, part activity, parts, system, therapy