Tag Archives: Fear

To Put Emotions On Pause

Oh to be able to let my emotions flow out of my finger tips.  The last few days I have been depressed and really anxious.   Medication, situation, all of the above?  Who knows.

Monday the fly on the wall, found me watching CNN.  A special about sexual predators working at Disney World, Sea World, Universal, and other theme parks.  The one I remember most lived life as a preacher.  Sounded like a familiar story.

Eventually sufficiently creeped out, I turned the television off.  Pondering the things I just learned, I picked up my Ipad and began a search.  Center of Missing and Exploited Children.

Shaking inside and out I called, simply to see what could be done to report someone who preyed on me over 35 years ago.  I am pretty sure I let out an audible gasp when she said she would take my report, and the information would be shared with the authorities.  I do not look for him to be punished for the things he did to me.  At least not in the here and now, but the thought of him continuing to prey on victims…My voice no longer silent.

For a couple of days his memory haunted me.  Fears.  More memories, smells, more memories…restless.

My medication has been tweeked too, and I think in the wrong direction.  So I know that this seems much more grandiose to me than it is.

Last but not least, I cannot deny my heart many many tears, as I prepare to say see you later to my sweet boy Enos.  He has degenerative back disease, past surgery on multiple disc.  He can no longer walk, or turn over when lying down.  We have to hold him up for him to do his “jobs”.  He is getting where he is in a good bit of pain.  My heart is broken for my baby.  He has slept with me since we rescued him seven years ago.  He is my smallest dog, and since I was never blessed with my own children, my dogs are my babies.  Enos lets me dress him and do what ever with him.  I love that little guy so much.

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The Three Faces of Me

 

The Three Faces of Eve
The Three Faces of Eve (Photo credit: junibears)

During therapy yesterday Dr. R mentioned the movie The Three Faces of Eve.  Since The Mean One 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.

Something needs to give.  I hate this.

Thanks for reading.  ~Hope

 

 

 

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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.

DID 1
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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Why I Blog and A Question

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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!

I hope you all have a wonderful night! -Hope

Thursdays Make Me Nervous

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.

It’s My Life

It is hard to say whether or not I should consider my last few weeks as eventful. Most of my days have been spent in my room with my blankets pulled up to my nose while I watch a Glee Marathon now I am on to Party of Five. I had brief breaks from the shows to watch movies, and a couple of days of doctor appointments, I vetured down to my parents a couple of times, and then I attempted to cook supper for my husband maybe three times. I also went to church on Sunday, but ended up coming home.

My life has become very sheltered. The last couple of days I have found words to describe how I feel. You see people in abusive relationships. They become imprisioned and cut off from their support system by their abuser. That is what I feel like “Little Hope” is trying to do to me. I do not know if she thinks that is her way of protecting me or manipulating me. I really feel like her wanting to kill me is her feeling like she has been the one that has protected us for all these years, and if I go away she will still be here strong, and I will not be hurting. Death through the eyes of a child is like it plays out on a cartoon, you come right back. I do not know if she realizes that we or she would not come right back. I do not know. I can only guess what she is thinking and feeling, and go by the memories and feelings that I have after she has manifested herself. Sometimes I am present with her as an imprisoned bystander and others I have very little memory to no memory that she took over.

Our minds are facinating and terrifying things. Though this Little One is me, because of her defiance, I do not feel any connection to her. When I think back to me as a child, that is not how I was.

Earlier this week my young cousin told her Mom that her teacher had gotten angry threw her folder, scattering papers everywhere, and then told the child that it was her fault to clean it up. When confronted the teacher lied infront of the Principal and then my little cousin was given a lecture about lying. Gratefully her peers came forward and backed her story and she has now been transferred out of that class.

My cousin’s courage gave me the courage to seek out my abusive teacher. It scares me that she is still a teacher, but I also know people can change. I first wrote her to verify that it was indeed her. It was and she remembered me. My anxiety shot through the roof when the last words she wrote were “Good to hear from a former student.”

She had no idea what I was about to write. Being the person I am and truly hoping she has changed, I wrote in the sandwhich method that I learned in management training years ago. Good BAD Good. Meaning good news and nice, bad news and harsh, good news and nice again.

I based the good news and nice on the few things she told me in her first email, and then I reminded her exactly who I was. I detailed the things she did to me and how they made me feel, then and now. I also let her know that I spoke to others in my class and without prompting they had the same memories. They also have their own stories to tell. I let her know that I was giving voice to the child that did not have one back then.

I let her know some of the good things that have happened in my life and that we share the love of working with those that have special needs. She changed from regular ed and is now a special needs teacher. I also commended her for getting out of teaching for a while to raise her boys. My Mother was a stay at home mom, and it was so important to me. I know not everyone can.

There were several things that I mentioned. I tried to express that I was not coming down on the person she is today, but in hopes of forgiving her I needed to let her know what it had done to me. I need to heal.

Sadly, I have not heard back from her. No apology, no excuses, no nothing. Now, it worries me that she still teaches. In my heart of hearts, I really thought as an mature adult, realizing what her actions had done, she would have apologized. I have now drafted a letter to her Principal, but have not hit send. I know her Principal well. I am waiting, in the hopes she is just processing the information. I know I should not expect and apology, I just hoped.

After writing the letter to her I spoke outloud, letting “Little Hope” know that I have taken care of it. She can become one with me and know that she will not be forgotten, but I will take care of us. I do not know if she heard me or not. She seems to listen in on my other conversations.

Yesterday when my husband and I where having lunch together, we were talking about teachers. I do not remember exactly what he said. I excused myself to to restroom. While in there she fought so hard to manifest, I knew I needed to get back out to my husband. I do not know what set her off. I do not know if she got full control or not, I was fighting so hard for her not to. I have not asked my husband, I remember seeing fear in his eyes. He kept saying we could go, but I remember telling him no that I needed him to get his dessert. I felt like she was trying to control that situation, she did not want him to be able to have his dessert, he has been waiting for that for a while. She knew I would feel awful if it was my fault that he did not have it. I do not remember him eating it or leaving.

Today is Saturday. I have family coming in. I am praying for a good day with no suprise guests.

Why Have I Not Posted, Scared I Suppose

I suppose you have noticed that I have been absent from my blog this week. Just writing this post I am getting anxiety, but as part of being real, I wanted to share what is going on.

I have had several migranes lately during the day, but that is not the reason I have not been posting. Honestly, I have been trying really hard to process the last time I disassociated. It really scared me.

I realized how out of control my life is. I am trying to figure out ways to reach Little Hope. Promises I have made, she does not recognize as promised she has made and that scares me.

This week when I have not been battling the inner demons of how to deal with her, I have laid here with my mind blank, numb almost, wondering where my life has gone. I hurt constantly mentally and physically.

My doctor is fighting with my insurance company trying to get them to pre-approve my MRI for my back. The nerve conduction study came back with nerve root damage, but they need to do the MRI to see what is pressing on the nerve roots.

Who knows what is going to happen.

Will The Tears EVER END

I really do not know where they come from. How can one person cry this many tears? Gallons upon gallons of salty drops pouring down my puffy face over the last few months. Will they ever stop?

Tonight did not go quite as planned, does it ever?

My hubs decided he did not want to go to see the missionary couple so he stayed home and worked around the house. It seems that everytime I leave the house alone, if I am upset, I see “him”. Today my emotions were raw. Seeing “him” today triggered me, though just a few weeks back I was able to stop and talk to him. I know part anxiety is because of therapy today and the work that we did, and part was reading about this awful molester in Savannah they finally caught today. I was grateful that they had caught that monster, but as I read the article I felt myself tensing up getting afraid, then flashbacks. Seeing “him” did not help. I could not stop shaking. I was nauseated. i wanted to turn around and go home, but I promised my Mother I would be there. I also needed to pick up my medications at CVS.

I floored it.

Once at CVS there had been a mix up, my meds were put on hold, because of that they did not have enough to fill it. I was my Pristique. Ummmm, I had to have it. They said they would fill a partial, but that I needed to come back.

I ran to the Church and rushed inside, just as they were taking the goodbye pictures. Still shaking and forcing back tears, I hid on the back row. I had completely forgotten I was supposed to help Mother, help someone file for unemployment online. Just as we reached the last of a million and one pages, the internet crashed. What in the world?! Mother has all the information to re-entered it at home, or that was the plan. I have not talked to her.

Me and my nightblind self rushed to CVS, almost running down three dark skinned ladies wearing dark clothes walking in the middle of the road. Idiots! Good thing I drive slow at dusk and night time because of my night blindness. I pull up to CVS, just received a text my husbands meds are ready also, they were not. I sat for about 15 minutes until another customer pulled up behind me, then I circled around. Our scripts finally ready, I am asked if I had ever taken Propranolol. I look puzzled and told her that was the med that was supposed to be on hold, waiting for my Internist to call. I ask how much it is. It was just over $4 so I said after today, I need it for my PTSD. The Pharmacist who knows my meds says that it works great for PTSD and that my dosage is so low I should not see any negative side effects. I told her to give it to me.

I have been home several hours now. Cried a bit more. Had a good heart to heart with my husband and now, I hope to call it a night. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day. Please?

My Journey

Photo Credits: cdn.picturecorrect.com

My Journey

Screaming without a voice.
Trying to connect with a life
I do not recognize.
Words on a page or a screen
My identity.

Floods of daily tears,
Occassional flashes of me.
Nature’s storms outside raging,
Empathic reflections of
My inner tempest.

I no longer search for the old me.
I must rebuild.
Recreate.
Rediscover.
Fight for breath.

Pretending to be okay exhausts.
Living day to day.
Moment to moment.
Breath to breath.
My journey.