The hilarious side

There a moments when being multiple is just plain funny.  Yesterday was a perfect example.  My partner calls me every day before he comes home from work.  We discuss the plane for dinner and any other things that might be on the schedule for the evening. The conversations also help to reduce my anxieties over him coming home and to reassure my system that he is not angry or upset with me. 

Yesterday's conversation involved figuring out what he was going to b pick up on the way home for dinner.  He was speaking to Jewel and she rarely has an opinion on what food is decided on.  While going through the options everything was pretty much the same for her. He then suggested fried chicken and out of no where someone in the system piped in with an emphatic "No"! It was so unexpected and such a here and gone moment that we both just cracked up. Apparently, someone didn't want fried chicken and that was that...  I still don't know who it was and it is still just as funny. 

A truth for my children

My children are grown and living their own lives now.  It has been a few years since my son stopped speaking to me.  Missing him has become an ever present ache in my spirit.  Recognizing this is a stage of life most parents live through, does not lessen the sense of yearning and disappointment. While there has been much more contact with my daughter, it is strained and filled with what has become a standard feeling of yearning for the of connection that existed when she was small. 
Being disappointed in myself for the many mistakes and failings made in parenting these two amazing people, is a constant battle I have within myself.  Knowing the past can not be changed and allowing myself to move to the present and look to the future involves something I have not been able to do.  Forgiveness,  specifically of myself and accepting to the truth that I truly did the absolute best I was able; with the skills and abilities I had at the time. Looking back, i know some of my actions were abusive, most of them were not. Living with a mother who had more than one sever mental and physical illnesses was a truth of their childhood. 
None of us knew I was mentally ill for a number of years.  After it was known, my ex and I were not equipment to adapt ourselves to change quickly enough. We had a loving support system, but not a trained one. All of our lives were affected by this.  I am only in the past few years able to say I am living a life that is more balanced and healthy.  Our children learned early that inconsistencies were the norm; that mom loved them but was unpredictable in what she would do or say from day to day and sometimes from hour to hour.  They grew up with a mom who often was physically or emotionally unable to meet their basic needs, at times both at the same time. 

My intense desire to create the perfect life for my entire family was the driving force that helped me function in a way that most people never knew about my mental illnesses.  I would push myself to be the "perfect" mom; being a leader or a volunteer in every activity the children were involved with, homeschooling them to ensure they were not only well educated, but more importantly " safe" from the dangers of the world.  I believed the children were safe with me.  I functioned without acknowledging the deficit I was creating.  There were so many experiences that were wonderful and amazing and at the same time dysfunctional and completely over the top.  When the deficit became greater than my ability to overcome, our world collapsed and exploded at the same time. My ex and I lost each other  along the way.
I crawled into a world that seemed to fill the need I had to be sheltered from myself.  My ex found solice from the chaos in a separate world.  Our actions were damaging to all of us and created gaping wounds which on some levels are still bleeding wi the each of us.  The reality of our lives was so much more than these words convey and yet there is a basic truth in them.  Now, there is no going back and doing any of it over. None of it can be undone. I can only live in this moment to seeing my own truths and be willing to forgive or not; but to move into the next moment with the hope of living with acceptance and  joy.

I want the forgiveness of my children. I want them to gain understanding of who I was and know that I am not that person now.  I also know those choices are not up to me.

Fear and failure

Let's talk fear.  I spend a great deal of time afraid. It is not a rational expression of fear; it is more of an extension of being alive for us.  Fear, let us face the ways.

I fear:

my children hating me

waking up alone

going to sleep at all

going to the store

meeting new people

being disliked by people

being seen as a fraud

forgetting appointments

meeting new doctors

disappointing people

loving people

becoming attached to anyone

being rejected

succeeding 

failing

dreams

facing myself.

I am not unique in my fears.  I am frequently overwhelmed by them. I often sabotage myself to avoid them and I disappoint myself and others when it happens.  It is frustrating when those fears are felt at different levels, by different alters all at the same time.  When we reach this point, it is time to ask for help.  We are just now starting to recover from a three week stay at the psych hospital because we got lost in our fear.  Truly though it was more than just the fear. It was the self loathing and sense of despair that were a large part of the fall. I am loved beyond measure and sometimes even that is not enough to keep me afloat.  The sense of betrayal within the committee is always deep, even when we know it is for the best to ask for help.  

We are better for now.  Our world has changed and we have had to embrace not living alone; living alone was slowly killing our spirits.  

I can tell my brain wants me to shut down and stop clammering... sleep is trying to win.  I will come back to these thoughts soon. 

 

Crying for Da

She cries in the night for her Da.  There is no one to hear her except the us.  She lays in her bed, surrounded by her faithful guardians and we hear her each night as we attempt to settle the mind.  Her voice is that of a child, she hopes each night that he will come.  There is a difference between what she calls for and what we need.  She wants to be safe and protected, wrapped in her daddy's safe embrace.  She cries in fear of the dreams to come and the terror, night after night.  We have done the therapy, the exercises and the talking.  We read the books and speak to the gods.  We surround her with loving and safe people, who accept and understand she is real.  None of it matters and none of it changes the terrors.

If you're lucky, during the day you may see a moment of giggles, and joy.  She comes out and brings sparkles and color, truth and wisdom.  We never know when or why she slides forward. We can only see from the inside, sometimes.  Some of the committee cringes when she mixes stripes, plaids and prints into a kaleidoscope of an outfit.  There have been days of pig tails and flowers or scarves and t-shirts.  She has polar bear footy pajamas and a complete bear ensemble. She is a passionate chocolate cookie fan and can tell you which restaurant has the best ones.   She loves to dress up and it doesn't matter that the body is that of a 44 year old, over weight, white woman.  She is five and she is determined to be alive and joyful during the daylight hours.

When the night time comes, she hides. Sliding back inside to crawl in her big bed, next to the other Little's, buried beneath their mountain of blankets and guarded by the bears, elephants and dogs each night.  Our beloved Julie-girl wants her Da because she doesn't understand why he never saved us.  She doesn't understand he will never come because he never knew what was done to us.  Even though we have a healthy, loving relationship with our father; there will always be a bit of caution and broken heart.  Children don't understand that parents are people.  To children, parents are superheros, with the ability to see everything, know everything, fix all the wrongs and defeat all the bad guys.  They don't understand when bad things happen, that sometimes the Daddy doesn't know.  Thus, they have their trust eroded and their terror justified.  The little girl believes she deserves what is happening, because with the logic of a child, Daddy doesn't care what is done to her.  This is Julie-girl's truth and we have thus far been unable to change it.

Therapy By Julie

Today was the day of reengaging in therapy. I took a hiatus last October, after running into a brick wall during the 10th week of a 12 week cognitive behavioral therapy CBT program.  I also hit a brick wall in my anger and protective nature management.  As each of these traits is controlled by different alters, I went into hiding from therapy.  I used the excuse that I was becoming to emotionally attached to my therapist to try and convince myself I needed a new therapist.  Which would have set me back a zillion years, but allowed me to avoid the last two weeks of the CBT program.  The lesson I'm stuck on is self-worth, I have made at missed a number of appointments in my effort to get back into the work of self healing.  Today, I made it.

The session was extremely successful. Dr. G. was fantastic and completely open to what I said and all of my concerns and fears.  I have been working with her for almost 10 years and our doctor/patient relationship has overcome all of the hurdles I have thrown at it.  I addressed my concerns about how I perceived our relationship becoming more of a friendship and this was interfering with my ability to share information with her.  We addressed my avoidance of the CBT program and how I was afraid of it.  The part of our conversation that truly reminded me of how much I respect her, was when we discussed my desire to begin addressing my DID.  Dr. G. is an expert in trauma, not DID. As a therapist, she would be able to work with me on the traumas and we could discuss how it is affecting all of the committee.  However, it would be stepping out of her area to try and work with me specifically on the aspects of DID.  We made a plan together for her to contact other professionals and organizations that specialize in DID and try to get a referral for me to get help through those sources.

I have an appointment in two weeks to move to the next stage in the CBT program.  Our goal is to complete this program before I begin anything new in regards to the DID.  Thus far, the most successful aspect of the CBT program has been the success I have had in removing self blame for the assaults and abuse done to me.  It is an incredibly difficult program, both mentally and emotionally.  I strongly recommend it as a technique for working through PTSD.  It isn't a fix all, but it does amazing things with the brain.

I have decided not to return to group therapy just yet.  I feel it would be detrimental to the group for me to participate currently.  I am to intolerant of perceived outsiders and of dealing with conflicts within the group.  The group is very much about conflict resolution, but I am not in a place to do so properly or without a great deal of unjust anger.  I have hope for myself, and I am pleased to know I am aware of at least these shortcomings on my part.  The level of hope and anticipation I feel about getting professional help with the DID and with working with Dr. G. to complete the program is very high.  My life is going well and I am thankful that most of the system is aware and grateful as well.

opposing needs

There are so many challenges when one is multiple.  We have two very different needs by two very different alters that desperately need to be filled.  The needs of Julie Girl and Jewel, to be able to express the innocent and care free personalities they have with as little censorship as possible and the needs of Rachel, to engage in behaviors and experiences that fill the primal need she always has within her.  As far as we have been able to understand, Rachel was created to take in the 'pleasurable' sensations that were created when we were harmed as a child.

When a child is sexualized at as early an age as we were, the body develops a craving for the sensations that are being forced upon it.  Our mind created Rachel to hold and experience those sensations when we were very young.  Sexual acts are more than a shared moment between us and the other person. The specific type of intimacy will fill the needs of a specific alter.  Some of those alters need soft and gentle.  Rachel is not one of those.  She craves the "violence", the crazy power exchange and all of the weird that goes with it.   We used to be mortified and embarrassed by what she needs.  The very idea was repulsive to the stronger of us and we rejected it as an idea years ago.  It is taking time and much soul searching to learn to come to terms with this aspect of us as a whole.  We can only function one day at a time.  We are choosing to allow all of the committee to express their needs within our sacred space and when appropriate within different communities that can fulfill our needs.

children of mine dealing

My kids are young adults now. They each have become amazing and independent people. They have lived all of their lives with a severely mentally ill mother. It was not easy. It is not easy. It will never be easy. They both crave order and clarity. As each of them travels their path, their anger and frustration of events from our past are influencing their acts and beliefs. Currently, they want as little to do with me as possible.  It breaks my heart but I have come to embrace that each person has to find their own path and peace.

Growing up, the kids often took care of each other and frequently, me in many ways. When I was ill they would make their own lunch. We homeschooled for many years and I used the philosophy that if I teach them how to learn, they well be able to learn anything they need or want. This put them in charge of completing their work and me checking in to make sure no one was lost. On the days that I ruled the world from the sofa. i.e. I was to ill to be up and around, they would come to me for help and I was available as they needed me. Because of my mental illness, there were many occasions when both of them felt responsible to care for me, to protect me from the world and myself. On my bad days one or both of them would make lunch. They learned to cook and take care of chores. These were things they had to do any way, but the stress of  feeling responsible for their mom was overwhelming at times.
Thomas and I should have brought in help, but neither of us was truly aware of the long term  aftereffects the children would have to live with.  Life is not perfect and hardship develops character but there needs to be a healthy balance. While frequently our family had decent balance, there were many times it did not.  Dealing with a chaotic mother, who changed what they were doing, how they were doing it and when, every couple of months and sometimes days, was stressful and confusing on the best days. It was frightening and filed with anxiety on the worst.

I wonder if they will understand that we did the absolute best we knew how at the time, some day?