Category Archives: Family

The Mean One

 

I have debated writing about this over the last couple of days, but I know that I would do myself and my readers a great injustice by not writing it.  This blog serves as my journal and our voice.

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DID 1 (Photo credit: Vlad OFP)

As you have noticed I have not written in several days,  the reason behind this is the level of my anxiety has been extremely high.  It began Sunday with a blow up with a step-daughter, that ended unresolved, and remains unresolved, and will probably remain unresolved.  I just need to let it go, and do the things that I have said I would do,  nip it in the bud when she starts taking life out on me, ending it right there and then, not allow myself to be her emotional punching bag.  I allowed this conversation go on much longer than I should have, each time she would throw her verbal artillery at me, I defended, allowing myself to release pinned up anger from the last nine years, thinking somehow that I would feel better.  I do not.  Though I do not feel bad about the things I said or did, I, in no way feel “vindicated” for by my words, just heavy and negative for letting go on so long.

Then Tuesday, I had a doctor’s appointment.  I get very anxious to go to this doctor’s office because the waiting room is full, that and it is my internist.  I knew that I had let my diabetes, my blood pressure, and cholesterol fall on the back burner.  Though this doctor has the absolutely most amazing bedside manner, I still feared being scolded, no matter how gently it would be.

As I stood in front of the mirror brushing my teeth and  trying to calm my nerves, Little Shanna, began to express her nervousness.  I tried to reassure her, letting her know how nice the Doctor was, and that I was just nervous, but that we would be okay.  Then I heard her the other voice, “You be quiet, I’ll take care of the squirt.”

I was confused and shocked.  Little Shanna, this third identity, and I talked.  The third, not nicely at all, she was upsetting Little Shanna and I tried to calm her.  I would ask her name, she would laugh and give me a different name every time.  She has given me the name Sharon, Sally, Susan…the worst was when she laughed and said Legion and continued to laugh.  I tried to rebuke her in the Name of Jesus Christ, but she laughed, and she knows that she and I are part of one, and she isn’t going anywhere. When I realized I was still brushing my teeth my mouth was bleeding.

I ran to my bedroom hurried to get dressed, so that I could get out to my parents house.  I was terrified.  She laughed, the most awful laugh.  I do not know if you remember me telling you about the experience with the smoke and fire trucks, it was that same laugh. I thought that was Little Shanna at the time.  I remember even then I said, she seemed older than Little Shanna that day, now I know why.  That day she told me she would exploit all my fears.  She has repeated that many times the last few days.

I hurried out to my parents.  Went to my Mother’s room where she was getting ready, and Daddy laying on the bed, through my tears, I told them.  “There is another one.”

We went to the living room and almost immediately Little Shanna came out.  She needed Mother to know she was scared.  She talked to Mother more than she usually does.  She kept saying she was scared. I cannot remember what else Mother said she said. In the middle of comforting Little Shanna, the other one pushed forward.

Mother said she looked very mean.  Mother told her to leave but she laughed that laugh that I always hear, and said, you can’t make me leave.  Mother called on the name of Jesus Christ to make her leave and she went back in, she was still tormenting me from the inside though.  Daddy said he could hear the laugh all the way back in the bedroom.

My days are running together, I think it was that night that I was sitting here and I heard Little Shanna whispering to get my attention.  I asked why she was whispering.  She said she did not want the “mean one” to hear her.  I do not know how the brain of the DID works, or if that is just the mind of the child not wanting someone else to hear her.  Anyway, she said, “Killing people is bad, I didn’t want to kill you. It was the mean one.”  If felt like she was implying that the “mean one” had made her say those things about killing me when she wanted me to commit suicide.

Another disturbing conversation, I think this was yesterday, but it could have been Tuesday also, was The Mean One telling me that ”I can force my way out and pretend it is you, a bitch and make your life hell and no one will know, but you cannot pretend to be me, everyone will know, sucks to be you.’” The prime example of this is Christmas with the family right before little Shanna came.  Little Shanna cries like she does because she is scared of The Mean One, and upset of the situation that caused The Mean One to come.

It is so scary having something so mean, sinister, inside you.  I wish I could understand DID.  Living it blindly scares me.  Going solely on my own experience I feel that Little Shanna only has my memories as a child.  The Mean One, pretty much access to everything. I do not know how to control her.

I just don’t know, I suppose we’ll see.  Thank you for reading. If you are a person of faith, I would not mind extra prayers right now.  I am having a hard time dealing with this.

Love you all. ~Hope

 

 

 

 

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Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

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Photo Credit: ak2.polyvoreimg.com

With childlike giddiness, I keep watching the weather reports. Snow is such a special treat here. We have a pretty good chance of it Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. I know like a child on Christmas Eve, I am not going to be able to sleep. I will be keeping a watchful eye out the window to see if I can catch a glimpse of the white fluffy stuff.

Of course, the worry wart in me is not far behind the giddiness. I worry to death about my hubs and other family and friends being on the road. There are many people who do not know how to drive in the snow, red Georgia clay yes, snow, not so much. My hubs has had experience in the snow, but the other prediction is the dreaded frozen rain. I do not look forward to that.

I remember the storm of 1993. That was insane. EVERYTHING was covered in ice. I was dating a soldier at the time, and they had a run down on the island. I hated him going by himself to that so I went with him. OH. MY. GOODNESS.

We had trees falling in front of the car, well a tree, and we were slipping and sliding all over the place. The most terrifying was driving over the Sydney Lanier Bridge.

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Photo Credit: Ameco-USA.com

You have seen the signs “Bridge Ices Before Road”, I can vouch. With the wind and the ice, his little beater of a Ford Escort, was pushed very close to the edge. I had my eyes closed praying, but you could hear and feel the impact on the car. My date said he was very glad I had my eyes closed, and even more glad that I was praying.

I cannot believe our soldiers had to run in it. I waited in the little Escort with near hurricane force winds was making the car shimmy. It was so cold too, so so cold. After the run we went and walked on the beach. Not the smartest thing. Did I mention it was COLD? Cold and that wind, felt like we were being sandblasted with ice and well, beach sand.

When we arrived back at my parents place, we found my home powerless. What a nightmare. My family and I went up to my Granny’s (now my home) because she had power. Sadly we forgot to take our Beta fish, Frog. Frog succumbed to the cold in our powerless home. He was such a good fish.

So here I type, I am putting my request in for Heavenly Father, and Mother Nature respectively, snow only please, and enough that it is pretty and a little fun, so not too much. I want some nice pictures of my furbabies playing in it.

Thanks for reading! ~Hope

Mother, Tell Me ‘Bout The Good Ole Days

The Judds song Grandpa. How I love the lyrics.

Grandpa, tell me ’bout the good old days
Sometimes it feels like this worlds gone crazy
Grandpa, take me back to yesterday
When the line between right and wrong
Didn’t seem so hazy.

I could not help but think of the lyrics as I Mother drove me around the neighborhoods of her youth. I mentioned to her remembering only one thing about my Grandmommy’s home, the brick wall around the carport. It had perfect squares that reminded me of the squares from the Price Is Right game where you put the dice in with the correct numbers to win the car.  Funny how we associate things. Associating probably helped me remember it.

When we arrived at the end of the street where the house stood, Mother commented that she had not seen it driving by. She then told me the number we were looking for. Before this point I looked for the familiar brick work. We turned the car around, as the numbers on the homes descended, getting closer to the house number we looked for, a childlike eagerness rose.  Almost holding my breath as I recorded with my Iphone. Then we arrived.

Our hearts sank. An empty lot where the home once stood. The home where I ate many hard Christmas candies. You know the kind only grandparents bought back in the day.  It was not really that it tasted that great, but it was a special treat for being at Grandmommy’s–those candies.
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The house where I would see placed carefully on her dresser, the hairnets. Meticulously made with strands of her own hair. My heart was sad. More sad for my Mother than myself, she had many more memories than I in the home. Grandmommy passed away a few weeks before my fifth birthday.

We went by the family burial plot. I do not know that I have been there since I was a child. It’s very humbling to stand at the feet of these amazing people. I have read and researched so much in family history. I love my family. As I stood at Papa’s feet, I thought about his life. His Daddy had mental health problems, and back in his day they did not have the help we do now. He died in an institution.  As sad as that is, it also connects me to him. An empathy that I have not felt before as I thought about him.  Three of my Grandmother’s sisters were buried there with their parents, I only knew one of them.  The others passed away before my birth.

I wore a short-sleeved shirt today not realizing the temperature would drop steadily. When I looked down at my goose bump filled arms, I saw something else that I inherited from this side of my family. Freckles. Those freckles that I cursed as I teen, I learned to accept and see at a link to my irish heritage as an adult. Both Papa and Grandmommy’s family heritage gift to me.

All in all it the day brought smiles with only a few tears. I am so grateful for the smiles. I am grateful for the memories Mother shared, and the new memories we created together. My heart needed it. I felt like me.

My doctors appointments went well also. My doctor added Abilify to my medicines hoping to amp up my other meds enough that I will not have the panic attacks. Keeping my fingers crossed. Since there is not a medication specifically for dissociative disorders you must treat the symptoms and the anxiety and depression, and work on integration.

One of the things that makes me sad when I think about it, is after having such a peaceful, pure, and innocent experience with Little Shanna the other day.  Developing a relationship with her.  I do not want her or me to think of integration as me getting rid of her or killing her. I keep trying to tell myself that it is like me hugging her really really tight, so tight that she becomes a part of me.  I hope she feels that way.
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Happiness Is…

Give yourself up to this moment. Dare to see it. Now look down at your feet; slip out of those invisible tethers. Then ask: Where would you take yourself right this moment if you walked toward your most heartfelt dream? What would your life look like? What would your body look and feel like? What level of energy would you have? What might be your favorite activity? What would your daily life include? Imagine happiness — the sweet glow of inner contentment, the way it tastes and smells and feels. ~Chris Downie

Happiness danced in my thoughts today. My oldest step-daughter married her sweetheart yesterday in a somewhat secret ceremony, I believe just a few of his family attended. They posted the video on Facebook to share the exciting news.

I sent her a text today to ask her if I could put it on my wall that “my daughter married her sweetheart. I specifically asked about dropping the step that has stared me in the face since I became part of the family nine years ago. I hate that word. When she said I could. I cannot express the joy that brings to my heart.

Though she is an adult and has a “step” of her own now, part of her is still that young girl I met when I married her Dad. I fell in love with her and her sister. I made it clear my intentions were to never ever take the place of their mom who is still living, but that does not diminish the depth of the love that I feel for them. Through the years I developed a mother’s love for them. I ached when they hurt. I worried when they were sick. Frustrated when I saw them making choices that I knew would lead them into pain. I felt hurt when they were away and we did not get to spend the time we could with them. Distance and circumstances sometimes coming between our developing relationships. Each time though, my mother heart, would ache to know how my daughters were and we would find our way back to each other.

So having my daughter allow me to call her what my heart has called her all along is happiness to me. Knowing that she has found the man who will walk the road beside her being her constant and her strength makes this mom very happy.

Family means the world to me. I do not know where I would be without my family. I am so very grateful for the gift that my daughter gave me today to let me call her mine, and yesterday for increasing our family by two.

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If I Were A Zombie

The last several days I have been compiling MP3s to help redirect my thoughts when I get really bad or start going there. I know that I have requested y’all to send me songs too. That request is still open. I asked my friends and family on Facebook also and received a great outpouring of response. I love being introduced to new artists and finding new gems in music. The music I have loaded so far seriously touches every genre imaginable. I even put some songs on there for Little Shanna.  It was almost fun selecting songs with her.

Some of the music brings back wonderful peaceful memories of old country gospel. Listening to it with my parents in their room on 8 tracks.  I have some monster ballads, rap, 80s and 90s pop, classical and contemporary piano and cello, and some indie.  I love music.

As I added songs I thought about what I was trying to accomplish.  There are times I want to just escape into the music and sing the familiar songs.  Other times I will need to be reminded of my worth and that the struggles are worth every minute, and that this is not my final destination.  Sometimes I need to be reminded of my beauty inside and out.  Then there are the times that I need a good laugh.  Little Shanna wanted children’s songs, so I guess she wants to remind me not to forget her and the child in me.

I have felt stronger today.  Want to associate it with the music and learning how to communicate with Little Shanna, and I have decided to keep calling her by her name.  One reason is because it is so important to her, another is because even though “Little” is the child in the case, “Little Hope” has a negative connotation to it, as in not much hope.  I chose Hope as my blogging name as a positive name to emphasize the HOPE I have that I will reclaim my Narnia, and my life.  Beginning to recognize now if that means integrating or accepting Little Shanna, I will be okay, she is anything but little hope.

Part of my good day, I found part of my voice.  My good friend, my Mother’s best friend has dealt with her computer since 2010. Replacing six motherboards and a video card unacceptable.  I called the company for her today and talked to a very nice gentleman, of which I am most grateful for.  I explained the situation and we conferenced in the store and my friend.  As a result when she arrived at the store and talked to the manager they agreed to make it right and she left with a new computer.  I am so grateful for a kind corporate gentleman well versed in his job, extremely personable, and focused on customer satisfaction. All of which are so hard to find in the corporate world today with people overworked and underpaid.  I am so grateful that it was a pleasant experience because it is usually when I get overly stressed, or as Mother says, “Lose Control” that is when Little Shanna takes control.

Since this post is about music I must share a humorous song that I put on my MP3.  I preface this with my husband loves zombie movies, me not so much.  I did watch Warm Bodies with him because it was a zombie chick flick, but generally, not my thing.  I found this song and sent it to him cause well, I just love him. 😉

Enjoy~ Hope

Children Will Listen

How beautifully true the words are Children Will Listen, they kept playing over and over in my mind. Generally when we talk about children we speak of those that we touch in our physical world our children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews, students, friends, or just the child on the street.

As I sang this song with tears in my eyes recalling the words that Little Shanna has heard from me all these years. The words I have said about myself. The words she internalized and having no way to process or express, she attached these to her other negative secrets. (She asked that I use her real name.  I will not always, but today. I agreed, because it is important to her.)

Whereas my shield against the world, forged by my parents, family and friends has mostly been created with positive input, hers, due to my inner negative dialogue became a shield that was not much of a shield at all. Just awful awful scary untruths and half-truths. Words a five year-old should never hear.

It is no secret that since I was a teenager, I have had thoughts of suicide. I attempted it once, but the razor would not cut me. I do not take suicide thoughts, talk, or attempts lightly. I have had friends who have felt the darkness and stepped beyond trying to find relief. I will not judge them and I will jump to their defense if I hear anyone saying anything about someone who has attempted or committed suicide.

However, as I have said before, I have made a promise to my Mother that I will not kill myself as long as I have my faculties about me. I will reach out, call, do whatever I can do get out of that dark place where you physically, spiritually, and emotionally feel a pain that is black, completely absent of light, piercing every cell in your body. You just want the pain to stop.

Having said that, as she has watched from her corner of my mind, Little Shanna, has equated sadness with the need to die or to kill yourself. She does not remember the promise nor will she make the promise that I made with Mother. See has seen my misery and torment that words do not do justice, and heard my thoughts seen the pills in my hands, as I shook and yelled.  I just want to die.  She has heard it so many times.  I have to get her to trust me enough now to LISTEN and make the promise that we will keep each other safe.

Singing I looked over on my night stand and saw the monkey I bought her the first few weeks after she came out. He has been covered with junk since I came home from the weekend that I bought him. When she first let me know her secret, I felt sorry for her, broken-hearted. I considered it our secret. As the months passed I have pushed her farther and farther away. Angrily at times, blaming her for the mess my life is in. If she would have kept her secret to herself. If she would not act out. If she would…

Seeing her stuffed bear reminded me she is a child and reminded me of the feelings I felt for her when she first let me know what happened.  I began to be really penitent about pushing her away, even when she was being  a loud five-year old at inconvenient times. She is a child. Most children act out in the least convenient times.

How is she going to heal if the one who should love her most of all continues pushing her away with hateful words, wishing she were gone. How is she going to heal when her protector becomes her abuser?

If she cannot heal then we cannot heal, and if we cannot heal then I cannot heal.

I know that we both want to heal TOGETHER.

It’s Raining It’s Pouring

It has been raining today.  Heavy showers passing by.  Roscoe cannot stand the sound of the rain, he jumps up and begins shaking.  Yeah, my dog even has anxiety issues.  When it comes to the rain, I love it.  I love the sound. I love the smell. I love how it feels. I just love it.  Do not love how my head feels when the barometric pressure changes, but oh well, I still love rain.

The hubs and I have been watching a marathon on American Restoration on the Roku today.  Gosh, it totally amazes me how they can take something broken and in completely horrible shape, and restore it to such beautiful mint looking condition.  Of course as I watch it I think about myself.  I know how I look physically and emotionally.  I am in a pretty rough state.  The journey I am on, and the Healer and Refiner working with me, my Savior Jesus Christ, will in the end help me to be mint condition again.  A new person, well and whole.  It is just going to take time.

Another lesson I have learned in this analogy is that just like different methods need to be used on different materials or you will do more damage, so it is on this journey.  He’s with me and leading me.  Helping me to find the right things I need to do.  Yet another lesson is that each thing has its own time, you cannot rush it.

I know in the end I will be excited with the improvements and healing, and say, “Wow! I am not the same person that started on the journey.  I am better.”

My pray for myself and others on this journey that these thoughts are taken to heart.  It is easy to write them, and feel them as I write them.  It is another to remember them in the darkness of trial.

Thank you all for reading.  I am still working on my MP3.  Please send your music choices to help me.

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Daily Prompt: My Four Legged Hero

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Meet Gidget.  I was just a tiny girl, and she a tiny pup when I she became part of our family. Hitting it off immediately, this little gal became my shadow.

Gidget was my best pal. To be such a small dog she was the absolute best a watch dog and protector. Often going nose to nose with large neighborhood bulldogs and shepherds that would come into our yard. She would send them running as she nipped on their heels with them running tails tucked as they left. I am sure they were getting an earful with her barking in the chase.  Once a Doberman jumped over the neighbors fence and came running after us.  Granny told us to run to the climbing tree.  Granny and Gidget stood ground, giving us time to climb the tree.  I do not remember the dog going home or what.  I just know we did not get eaten, neither did Granny or Gidget.

As fierce as she was protecting her us, she was that much more gentle towards us. I was fascinated with her swollen boobies after she had puppies. So one day I rolled her over and squeezed one of her boobies and looked in awe as milk came out. She just laid there. She would let me do anything to her.  Poor girl.

Gidget was so funny. I think she thought she was a human.  She loved our birthday parties. Whatever we did, she found herself in the middle of it. If we were chewing gum, Gidget was chewing gum. She however, loved to pull and stretch the gum with her paws and make a mess. One party favor that she really enjoyed was the parachute men. They were in cylinder tubes. You blow the tubes and the parachute man comes out and floats down. She had a tube in her mouth and tried to throw her head back, mimicking us. She was never able to get her parachute to fly. 🙂 But it was not from lack of trying.

I remember well the dark feeling that fell over my heart the day Gidget went missing. She had a litter of puppies under the house that needed feeding.  She never stayed away from her babies long, so we knew something was bad wrong for her to stay away.

We looked everywhere, and eventually found her at my neighbors. The night before their someone had broken into their home.  Gidget, we suppose, tried to protect our friends home, and was ran over. My heart was broken.

I miss that sweet girl, a hero of my youth.

Daily Prompt: Heroic

Didn’t Mean To Broadcast To The World

After publishing my last post I went to my Facebook account, imagine my horror when I realized that I have been publicizing THIS blog to everyone. I had set my blog to be published to my other Facebook account, my Hope account, but somehow it switched when I was inactive. It made me ill. There are several people on my list that I would never want to know or read about my experiences.

I have gone and deleted the posts from my Facebook account and deleted my Facebook account from my WordPress account as to avoid any future issues.

I hope no innocent eyes read my blog and were injured by anything I said. I worry so much about my niece and young cousins reading it.

No need to worry I have done what I can.

New Year, New Look

Decided to change-up the look of my blog. I do not know if I will keep it this way or not. I really like the look of the owl, and I read to see what the owl symbolizes. It is wisdom. I should have known that.

I sang the little ditty as a child. “A wise old owl sat on an oak. The more he heard the less he spoke, the less he spoke the more he heard. Why aren’t we all like that old bird.” We would sing it over and over again in rounds.

Wisdom. What is wisdom? Wisdom is something you can only gain through experience. No one can give it to you as a gift wrapped in a pretty bow. You cannot read it in a book or on a blog, and magically bestow it through osmosis. No, wisdom comes through your own application of knowledge to your experiences. This journey is my journey to a completely new wisdom. I am learning more about myself that I ever knew existed and parts that I did not know I hid. I will learn how to work together with myself to create a powerful them so that we can do as the image of the owl states “Shine On.”

I have been counseled for years to gain knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge has always come very easy to me. Almost too easy. I suppose you could call me a nerd. Wisdom, not so much. I have to learn life’s lessons time and time again, before the wisdom sticks. This time, however long it takes, however many lessons are involved, I will gain the wisdom I need.  Can’t go around it, can’t go over it, can’t go under it, must go through it.
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So for me funny moment happened today, at my husband’s expense. He teases me constantly about my memory, as I addressed a couple of days ago. Today however, he called me on the way home from work and told me that he was at CVS picking up his medications. I was super confused and asked him, “Didn’t you pick those up yesterday?” That’s when he started laughing. He said he started thinking about the coupons he had to use at CVS and said he would go today since he had to pick up his medications anyway. The pharmacist tech looked and looked, and probably thought they had lost another of our prescriptions. (I called and reported them to corporate a few weeks ago for losing prescriptions.) This time it was not them, it was my adorable husband and his perfect memory. Thankful for those moments!