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 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.