July 06, 2010
Going Through The Memories
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
January 26, 2010
Trauma Processing, Therapy & Counseling
I've been in some form of therapy or another now, on a somewhat regular basis, for almost 20 years. Now, wait. Stay with me. Some of you who are rather new to therapy may be ready to shriek, "Eek! I'm outta here! I don't want to be in therapy that long! Who wants to be in therapy forever?!" I want to tell you that I'm one of the many unfortunate survivors who floundered around in the mental health system with an inadequate diagnosis for years. I didn't find out how severe my dissociative disorder was until just three years ago.
I didn't even know I had PTSD until after we moved to Colorado, less than a dozen years ago. My first official diagnosis was bipolar and I was put on Prozac. I have to give my first psychiatrist credit: He actually apologized to me a few years later and reversed my diagnosis. He told me that, while I had depressive episodes, my depression was situational, not cyclical. I wouldn't find out until just a year ago that what looks like "mania" on some occasions is actually the m.o. of one of my "let's-get-it-done-yesterday" parts.
Currently, I'm working with a woman who has over 20 years of experience working with dissociative patients. She's the "only game in town:" I'd have to drive over an hour each way to see another dissociative expert T in my state. I'm lucky to have her. Overall, I'm making tremendous progress with her. I've had no dissociative fugues or huge dissociative switching incidents that have been disruptive for over a year. I'm learning how to let some of my parts with even the toughest exteriors feel safe enough to have feelings and show their pain. I've given new "jobs" and crafted contracts with parts who I used to call "punishers." Now, we can talk about what they are protecting and what they are truly concerned about, instead of jumping to the dysfunctional reaction of self-harm. Just in the last few months, My T's told me she's even starting to see some--dare I hope it, much less say it?--integration. Hooray!
Before my current T, I was with an expert in traumatic stress and we made great inroads on trauma processing and getting my PTSD under control. I learned very useful grounding techniques and was able to vastly decrease my amount of nightmares and flashbacks. He also helped me learn how to greatly reduce my hyper vigilance and automatic startle response reactions. Heck, I can even go to a restaurant now and not be concerned about exactly where the exit (the escape route) is. I can sit at a table in a chair that is not backed up against the wall.
So, as you can see, I am grateful for my progress. I feel like I "shouldn't" complain. But, with all this great therapy "stuff," all the techniques the last two therapists I've had have pulled out of their well-educated and experienced bags of tricks, I feel like I'm missing something. What I miss, what I crave is counseling.
Does anybody out there know what I mean or feel the same way? Let me tell you what I'm talking about in my own experience. I know that some therapists do, indeed, give counseling because I had one--out of the many I've seen--who actually counseled me once. It was over a dozen years ago, back in Illinois, when I worked with her. I was a little put off, at first, by how "new-agey" she was, but I was immediately impressed by how compassionate and how spiritual (without being religious) she was, and by how much she cared. She also had great therapy techniques and ideas. But, what really moved me was her caring. Because she cared about me so much, she was very successfully able to counsel me on things that effected my day-to-day life. When I went in to see her for a session, we not only talked about my childhood abuse and my dysfunctional ways of coping; we could talk about anything.
I was so impressed with her and felt that her skills, empathy and advice were so needed, I drove three hours each way to see her!
Since that time--while I've had successful therapy and trauma processing sessions that could probably be sited in clinical training or published in some researcher's book--I've had very little counseling. I have a husband who is an only child and has lost both of his parents to cancer. Yet, I have no counselor to talk to about it (or really anything about my relationship with my spouse). I have a son who screamed at the top of his lungs with "colic" for seven months as an infant and now struggles with sensory integration, dyslexia and ADHD symptoms and has "twice-gifted" status at a school that does not meet his needs. Yet, I have nobody to counsel me on how to be the best parent I can be and how to squeeze out that last drop of patience and unconditional love I want to provide for him.
I understand that, when Mom is huddled in the closet in the fetal position or running away in dissociative fugues, PTSD and dissociative disorder therapy has to be the first priority. But, can't I ask for more? I'd like to have some counseling in the area of relationships.
In addition to me, my husband, son and sister each have their own individual therapists. My husband and son and I have gone to family counseling together. But, I have received next to nothing that I have found helpful or useful when I have asked either of my last two therapists to counsel me on my relationships with my husband, sister or son. Shouldn't the T I currently see, for up to four-and-a-half hours some weeks, be able to give me some useful advice on my current relationships? Aren't human relationships really what this life is about? I don't think the goal of all my hard work and intense therapy has been so I can be happier alone, living like a hermit in a bubble somewhere. I think it's been so that I can live my life in-relationship-with-beloved-others in a more functional, healthy, loving way.
Why do I feel sometimes--during the last eight years--that the only therapeutic success I've made is for some clinical study, or done in some cold, sterile research lab? Why do I keep feeling like I'm coming up against some "all-or-nothing" type of strategy? Can't I experience a more balanced approach?
I'll probably tell you about my therapy appointment from last week that prompted this line of bloggy questioning. But, for now, I wanted to publish a more balanced post, instead of just a rant. In the meantime, feel free to share your own experience in comments. Tell me what you think.
Labels: aftermath, alters, child abuse, dissociation, feelings, grounding, healing, PTSD, self-injury, therapy, trauma processing
November 14, 2008
The Drug of Dissociation
For the first time ever--at least that I'm aware of--it doesn't look like I'm going to get a break between the "end-of-the-summer/back-to-school freak-out" and my annual "holiday freak-out." Good God! Can we really be coming up on Thanksgiving already? I can't begin to describe to you my exhaustion.
I've also been dealing with a lot of body pain lately. My therapist says they are body memories. I had no idea that my goal of being in my body would be so much fun. Not!
I want to go on record, right here and now, of saying that I officially apologize to anyone on this planet who deals with chronic pain. I'm sorry that I could not empathize with you before. Having been out of my body for most of my life, I must admit that I thought chronic pain sufferers were a bit on the weak side. Of course, I couldn't know their pain--couldn't empathize--because I didn't know pain. If one is not in one's body, one does not know physical, body pain very well.
I also want to admit that I can't take much credit for giving birth to my son without the help of pain killers. It was my goal to have a birth experience that was natural, and not have any drugs in my system or that of my newborn's. Even with back labor, I did not have anything to take the edge off. Now, I'm not saying that I didn't feel anything. And I did have a doula to help me. But, I did get through what must have been some pretty agonizing pain without any drugs, and it wasn't that hard.
I guess, all along, what I had was my drug of choice: it was the drug of dissociation.
Well, guess what, folks? My lifelong drug is wearing off! And, right now, the withdrawal really sucks!
As I think I said in a previous post, this "back-to-school freak-out" season, I've managed to stay out of the hospital. What I've done instead is a shit-load of therapy. Some days have required three hours of therapy. Some weeks have required as much as five hours.
We're getting down to the nitty-gritty of the most heinous torture aspects of my child abuse. I won't get into the gorey, triggering details, but the body pain has been freaky. I've especially had a lot of pain in my wrists, ankles, neck and back. A really weird one is sudden pain at the top of my head...in my scalp! If you can imagine the logistics of immobilizing and torturing a body, you get the idea of maybe why these particular body parts would be telling their story through pain.
And they are telling their abuse story. The good news is that my therapist and I really are getting a lot done in trauma processing as of late. I just don't have much energy for anything else right now.
And sometimes I revert back to the place where I think these memories will kill me. I think, what I did is learn to dissociate at a very early age. I guess I'm convinced that the pain, fear, and knowledge of the abuse will kill me because--through my dissociation--I don't realize that I've actually lived through it already.
Just this Wednesday, I was at the end of my regularly-scheduled therapy session, and I was so consumed by the horror and actual, physical pain of an emerging torture memory, that I got white as a sheet and broke out in a cold sweat. I excused myself and went into the bathroom. I could see in the bathroom mirror that all the color had drained from my face. I felt a bit better when I returned to my T's office, but she was so worried about me that she insisted on walking me to my car. Outside, the fresh air revived me a bit. After sitting in my car for a while, gulping fresh air, I was able to drive home.
Because my T had a cancellation that day, we were able to make another appointment for three hours later. That way, I was able to get some completion on some of this particular trauma processing, and not have it hanging over my head until next week's session.
This is what it's been like for me, being in my body lately.
The upside is that I've been much more consistent at taking care of, pampering, and comforting my body as well. I've been utilizing a lot of these comforting techniques and products these days: deep-penetrating cream for muscle pain, over-the-counter pain meds, calcium and magnesium supplements, my heating pad, massage from my wonderful husband's healing hands (when I can tolerate it), hot tea, soothing music CD's with nature sounds, the cascading water in my fountain, fresh flowers, various types of aromatherapy, cozy, soft pj's and loungewear, stuffed animals...and comfort food. Diet, be damned! As a matter of fact, I'm going for some mac 'n' cheese as soon as I'm done with this post.
When the pain starts to get to me, I've just got to remember some of these cozy, yummy, positive aspects of now being in my body.
Please continue to be patient with me as I continue to comfort, cocoon and convalesce. Thanks!
Labels: anniversary, body connection, body memories, child abuse, comfort, dissociation, holidays, pain, self-care, Thanksgiving, therapy, torture, trauma, trauma processing
January 10, 2007
Happy New Year & What's Happening
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
