Free Sowing. It’s a gardening term that my therapist taught me as she gifted me some parsley, basil, and chia seeds. It means seeds that do not require much tending to grow.
The last year and a half, I have required so much tending and care, that I am happy to be at my free sown phase. I have happy days. I have real moments when the dark foggy abyss abates, and I feel the sunlight on my face. Those moments are longer and longer. Words cannot adequately give gratitude to how that feels.
The pivotal moment for me occurred when I saw my friend on the street and presented with the opportunity to tell him forgave him. I reiterated I knew his daddy caused him to do the things he did to me. Something happened that day, he told me that he was wrong, relating also, his father often told him to do things he should not have done. I was no longer the only one saying these things happened. I no longer doubted my memories. A tender mercy that I prayed for, answered very directly. My husband witnessed his confession as he sat silently in the car beside me.
Since our conversation, surprisingly, days passed without a thought of the abuse or my abusers. The long-awaited mental reprieve granted. Not to spread all sunshine and roses, some days are still hard, but many more happy days of light than before.
What of my alters?
They still remain vigilent. I am learning to live with them and they me.
Gidget fulfills her job as protector, and gets quite upset if I do not let her do her job. She speaks up in situations that I should speak up and don’t or won’t. She also loves to laugh and play jokes. A few weeks back my husband and I went on a date. Gidget came out. I had shrimp on my plate. When she allowed me to come back there were green beans in a smiley face with one shrimp as a nose staring at me. Apparently she had told Mother she was not going to let me eat all the food at the restaurant. She really likes Ole Times, and shrimp.
Squirt, or Little Shanna, her feelings are so tender. She has been happier. She watched Curious George a couple of times. Mother said she gave her a play- by-play of what George was doing. She still has some of her fears, but she is feeling safer.
Adrian. I do not know what to say about Adrian. Mother can talk to her and get through to her. She does not like me, AT ALL. She is very angry. Though relatively quiet the last few weeks, she still makes part our “family”.
I suppose the dream of being “normal” – alter free- when I started to feel better, isn’t going to happen. They are my normal. Learning to live with them and accepting this part of my life is key.
I started blogging to help others, and myself become stronger. The last several months, I did not have it in me to carry myself, much less have any bright days to share and lift others. My internal protector, who now goes by Gidget, not “the mean one”, isn’t mean at all. She does have a temper. She can swear like a sailor when she gets angry, but her goal has been to protect me and “squirt” and to make me have a little more fun in life.
What now seems eons ago, but was only weeks ago, she told me angrily, “Not everyone deserves to be forgiven.” That statement lead to pandora’s box being opened, and discovering and recalling that my “original” abuser, was a pawn and victim himself in his father and step-mother’s sadistic game. Who knows how long it went on with him, but Little Shanna endured about a year and a half of sexual abuse. Holding tightly to the secret, the sadness, and the guilt, standing beside her, a valiant protector Gidget.
She is remembering that she did fight now, she let me know, I fought and begged to go home. There is only so much a 4 and 5 year old child can do. Especially when you have two adults there, who are holding you. Holding you in a way that you do not bruise though. Hugging you. Adults you once trusted. Adults you should still be able to trust. Hearing my dog barking outside because she heard my cries. Gidget, that is where she got her name from. My faithful protector back then.
She has introduced herself to most of my family and friends. I am not really comfortable with that, but I suppose she is making it so that I do not have to worry about it. Fear of rejection is so high. She gave my closest friends what for the other day, for absolutely no reason. Of course I had to apologize profusely after I returned. She seems to forget my life, our life, is not all that everyone has to deal with.
She and I have become almost like sisters. Boy howdy can she get mad at me. If I try to smooth something over when it is clearly not my fault, or heaven forbid I blame her for something that happens, and I do not know if she had anything to do with it or not. My husband says I need to learn to chose my words more carefully. I told him, I am not used to someone knowing my intimate thoughts, and responding to them. This is a new ball game for me.
She has quite the sense of humor. I hope she does not mind me sharing this. First off, she is country. Very country. Several people have mentioned that she has a serious twang to her voice. After therapy yesterday, I told my parents that I wanted to try to actually eat out at my favorite place. Ole Times Country Buffet. I set up ground rules. My back would be to the wall, and I would be able to see my parents at all times, even at the buffet. I was getting a little nervous. Mother said Gidget came out and said, “I ain’t gonna let her eat all this good food by herself.” Mother laughed as she said some of the things Gidget said and did. First apparently she ate so fast, afraid I would come out soon. Mother asked her if I had put any fried squash on the plate. I had not, only because I did not have room. Gidget sad SHE does not like that stuff. She joked, “When she comes back she ain’t gonna know where her food went.” Gidget, must be a messy eater because my napkin was all nasty when I returned, and she was right. I had Mac’N’Cheese (because” it did not taste like Ms. Edith’s (my grandmother) or hers (Mothers)”, according to Gidget, I agree.), and a piece of dry chicken. Thing is my mouth was still hungry, though my belly bloated. I dared her in my mind to come out when I got my deserts. I got two just in case, I hid them behind butter beans and collards.
If you are new to this life. My advice is, take it slow, but try to become friends. I find when I am scared or afraid when they come out, it wipes me out physically. If I let them come have their peace, and not fight them, I am not nearly as exhausted when I return. I do not understand it, but that is how my body and mind works. My doctor seemed to recognize the exhaustion, so I must not be too crazy. Yeah, not too crazy, says the woman with two altar personalities.
I am not going to write as often as I did before, but I will check in every once and a while. A pulse check to let you know that I am still alive and kicking.
Thank you so much for reading. Thank you Mental Health Bloggers for the gentle reminder as to why I began blogging.
During therapy yesterday Dr. R mentioned the movie The Three Faces of Eve. Since The MeanOne has come out fighting this week, I feel like I need to understand what is going on with me.
Watching the movie helped me understand somethings that I have been trying to understand, the way they communicate, among themselves, and with me. Having these awful headaches more frequently also, a similarity.
I hate being like this. I have always been the person to take care of everything. I handled our bills, dealing with any and all business for us. Now if the slightest ripple in the plans or transactions happen, that rock my boat, that cause me any negative emotion The Mean One thinks of it as an open invitation to take over.
In therapy we discussed acknowledging her and her anger. Last night when she came out at something so minor and stupid, I did just that. I tried to acknowledge her anger. I begged her to tell me why she was so angry. That seemed to make her more angry. Little Shanna then pushed her way forward, and was so scared. She asked for Mother. I am proud of her for doing that. Tracy called Mother for her and Mother was able to calm her enough for me to push back forward.
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.
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.
Oh yes, if any day of the week is cursed it is Thursday, no not Monday as everyone simply assumes. Thursday takes the most vile day of the week award. Everything bad seems to happen on Thursday.
It probably began with my sleepless night. It was well after 3:00 before I went to sleep. Do not suppose it was rainbows and unicorns that I dreamed of. Terrors filled my sleep including dreams of beating someone up then pulling that individual by her wrist to the kitchen where my parents keep their medicine, calling my Mother and the rest of our family in the room just as I swallowed the bottle of Xanax. It was awful. All night I had dreams about this individual and different scenarios, I hated it.
Generally when my husband leaves for work in the morning our thing to do is for me to get up and hug and kiss him goodbye. This morning, exhausted, I just rolled over and asked him to hug me in bed, and tried to go back to sleep. I hoped the nightmares would end and I would sleep. I was able to get some sleep, but Daisy needed to go out
Then this afternoon. Then it started. I worked on my MP3s. My new player does not work. Lovely. They are supposed to call me back when they issue the call tag to come and pick it up.
I received a phone call, I did not recognize the number. I did not answer. They called right back. So I assumed it was the service center. How wrong I was. It was a scammer. After going on a bit about the scam, and my insistence that I knew it was a scam he finally admitted that he was trying to scam me. I was shocked by his admission. He said he wanted to be my friend. Was this a joke? He went into why he was doing this “job”. I talked to him about his children and that him getting caught is going to ruin their lives, and they will be very hurt and feel abandoned and betrayed. I talked to him about making things right. Then conversation became weirder and more uncomfortable. Soon he asked when he could call me again. Stating he really enjoys talking to me. What? What just happened here? I was just encouraging him to seek gainful, honest employment, to pray, and look for a church family.
My cousin teases me that I should write a book about my life. I can get myself into some of the worst predicaments. I suppose a blog will do for now.
I am nervous as all get out. This guy has my name, phone number, and so he has my address. I called and reported the information to the FBI. In hopes that anyone else does not fall for these scammers. They are many.
The FBI explained it to me. These scammers HERE IN THE US…They buy drop phones with 876 area codes. There are other area codes they use too. (The area codes are places like Jamaica, The Virgin Islands, and Puerto Rio.) Just do not answer any number with 876 unless you have family or friends there. They use the catch line of you have won the lottery or your family is on a cruise and are very sick, or something like that. When you call back you are charged a huge toll, phone companies do not cover it, they say it is between you and the company you called. This guy sounded like he was new at it or that he really did not want to do it. He was stumbling over his words nervously from the beginning. It is sad that people resort to this kind of life, some feeling it is their last and only resort. It leaves their victims without anything and without trust. Honestly it is a no win situation.
It is depressing the state that our world is in now. I felt bad calling the FBI, but I also felt like it was the responsible thing to do.
One thing I know for sure. I am ready for Friday. Another thing, I know. I am ready for dinner. My tummy is rumbling.
One of the reasons I stopped blogging a few months ago was because I was so caught up in numbers. Worrying about my stats daily. Am I being boring? What are my readers thinking? Between that and Little Hope angry that I called her Hope, it just became too much.
Today I have thought about what drives me to write. Mainly to get the thoughts out to calm me. Others is to connect with others. I hope my words do reach others, and somehow help them. Even it is helps them, helps YOU not feel so alone.
Originally I had hoped to make money blogging, but I know my blog is not going to ever make money. It is not about a money-making topic that brings people in droves. Maybe down the road when I am farther along in my journey, I will visit that idea again. Right now I want to focus on quality posts about my life.
This is the life I am living. This blog is much more than a blog to me, it is my online journal. I am going to treat it as such. I hope as I do you do not get bored reading. Gratefully, some days are boring. I long for those days. Days that I can say, “Today I cleaned house and cooked dinner.” Of course I will go into more details, and talk more about what I am feeling.
I do have a QUESTION. Before my hiatus when I blogged at the bottom in visual mode it offered suggestions on blogs that I could pingback to, blogs that had similar subject matter. I do not see this anymore. Is there something that I need to activate to get that back or what? I do not remember what it is called. I would love to have that option again. I think it was a great way to network in our blogging community. If you know what it is or how I can get it back PLEASE let me know. Thanks!
No surprise I am emotional today, I am every day. I have glimpses into light and peace. I did so as I studied and read the scriptures, and listened to uplifting music this morning. However, much like an egg on perfectly seasoned non-stick surface thrown into the air, so went my brief feelings of joy. Back into the abyss I sink.
I talked to my lawyer earlier this week and he said the disability judge is running fourteen months behind, so my case will not be heard until probably next December (2014). It is so frustrating. Confusing too, the emotions I feel. I am so terrified being in public right now, going to a hearing around people scares me. When I am scared and overly emotionally Little Hope seems to have the upper hand. It has been a HUGE fear getting in front of the judge and she come out. It will leave me unpresent not knowing what is going on or how to answer any questions. Not to mention if she pulls one of her fits.
Something I realized today, I beat myself up over things before they happen. I create elaborate scenarios in my head, stupid what if scenarios. Example in point. I let Daisy and Roscoe out in our fenced in backyard. While they did their business I figured I would do mine. (TMI moment coming) My stomach was bothering me and I stayed in there a few more minutes than I originally thought. I start panicking that Roscoe and Daisy have dug out of the yard. (Completely out of character for Roscoe, and Daisy too if she is not with Gage.) But it was real to me. I could not hear them in them playing outside the window. I just knew they were gone. Daisy has a chip, Roscoe does not. They are going to get hit by a car. Tracy is not home to help me find them. It is my fault that I ate the Oreos, because I know those and my Metformin mess my stomach up. I am not going to be able to live with myself. (I am trying to hurry so I can go find them, but my stomach would not cooperate.) By this point I was almost in tears and shaking. I hear the neighbors dogs barking, then my parents dogs barking. My fears are confirmed, they have escaped. Why else would all the neighborhood dogs bark. I have got to get out of this bathroom!! Why did I eat those stupid Oreos!! Those Oreos killed my dogs. Then I heard it, outside my bathroom window, inside the fence, Daisy’s beautiful bark. The same bark that annoys me at 3:00 in the morning.
My epiphany came as I walked to the door to let them in. I am always finding reason to hate me, real or imagined.
In therapy we have talked how I blame myself for all the bad things that have happened to me, part of it for me is to give any others involved a free pass. The deeper part is in most cases I feel like something I have done caused it.
I’m fat. I have heard I am fat because I would eat at my Granny’s and my home. I cry as I type that. In my mind being fat has been the root of many of my problems. For those who say lose the weight, let me say, if there is a diet, I have tried it. I have owned several exercise machines, walked, swam, danced, kickboxed, you name it. I would lose some, and breathe and gain weight again and the pounds I lost would bring family members and friends.
So again I am fat, it is my fault. I got that. It is there. I cannot shake it. Enter the teen years and puberty, I get something that “fat girls” get Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I’m fat. I caused it. My fault. Through the years I was told that I would have trouble getting pregnant. Lose weight they say, but PCOS makes you gain too. So being fat made me have something that makes me gain weight. Anyway, losing weight nor medication helped. Infertility=No Child because I am fat! My Fault! But wait, there’s more! I wanted a child so bad. My self-esteem so low I am easy prey. All the signs were there that the baby did not exist, but I believed her. Everyone hurt because of my dream and my gullibility. Then instead of my womb producing something beautiful, it produced something ugly, cancer. Cancer, that was my fault because I am fat. Now my heart is enlarged and thick, I have asthma, degenerative back disease, diabetes, and several other things…and why??? BECAUSE I AM FAT!!!
So why do I hate myself? I wonder?
Fat provides a cruel floating illusion, when in reality it acts as a millstone securely placed pulling you into the deepest your abyss.
Tonight we watched Standoff. Standoff is a series about FBI hostage negotiators. I love shows like this. This episode was about a victim of an adoption fraud who was holding someone hostage. We were not privy to why he was holding the hostage until most of the way through the episode or I would have decided to not watch this episode.
When I realized the reason, I started playing around on my Ipad, trying to drown out the show. I still heard though. The negotiators brought in another victim of the same adoption fraud. As she was talking on the phone to the hostage taker she said she understands what he feels. She went on to ask, “But do you know what I felt the most?”
In unison she and I said stupid.
I started shaking and crying, for so many reasons. It was like the adoption fraud just happened. Dealing with that is the whole reason I started going to therapy last year, when EMDR opened Pandora’s box, I have yet to really get to dealing with it.
Last night Little Hope made herself known. Sharing a brain with her, and being trapped when she appears, is terrifying. Last night, I felt sorry for her. She was so scared.
My husband and I were talking about money issues. I became emotional. I could feel her trying to take over. I whispered under my breath, “No. Do not come.” Several times, but it was no use. She had pushed me back, and was now in a room with someone she did not recognize. She was terrified and very scared. Internally I tried to calm her and tell her who my husband was, she continued to push back against me. I was also mentally begging my husband to call my Mother. (Mother and I had talked about next time she came out that Mother would try to reach her and get her to make some of the same promises I have made.) In her fear and hysterics she pushed back at my so hard that I do not remember everything.
It is hard sharing a brain with someone that is a part of you but that you do not recognize and you do not control. Once I swictch back, I was so exhausted.
Though my life is no laughing matter, I do have to say my choice of movies last night did make me chuckle after I realized the plot. The Host I told Tracy that is often how I feel. Hopefully, she and I can become friends like Wanda and Melanie.
Ever since my wreck afew weeks ago, Thursdays make me nervous. When I am nervous and anxious I have to work extra hard to not switch, which makes me more nervous and anxious. Today I have an appointment that requires me to travel the road where I had my first flashback. I know many of you are thinking let it go, PTSD is not like that, you cannot. You live and relive, constantly. I am physically hurting and in emotional torment.
This afternoon I meet with my counselor. One of the things that I want to discuss with her is lately my emotions get so intense, but then if I want to express what is in my mind it is like someone takes a curtain and pulls it infront of my thoughts, and there is nothing there but the emotion.
I made my Mother a promise last week that I would not look up my symptoms on the internet, I have kept that promise. I just keep forgetting to ask my counselor about this. It has happened in therapy several times.
Gratefully, I just received the news that the first appointment was cancelled. I am already a nervous mess. I am going to turn on the TV and try to find something that I can get insterested in.