So I found out I'm divided. Okay. I started reading about dissociation and understood that trauma causes little selves to split from the original self. I greeted whoever might be inside. I told them I loved them and would keep them safe.
To the degree it was all right with everyone inside, I asked God to make me whole. Then, to help bring that about, I informed those inside that I wanted to know all the memories, all the secrets. I pointed out that it was part of my history and I had a right to know.
I read that some little selves encapsulate and feel the fear of a specific experience of abuse, others the pain, others the rage. I felt sorry for those little selves. In my mind I reassured them, That was then. We couldn't cope with those powerful emotions then. But we're grown up now. We're stronger and we have a good support system, family, friends, church, God--all kinds of healthy resources. You can come out of hiding and let me help you bear those feelings. We'll do it together. We can handle them now.
The next morning I woke up so scared I was shaking--and I had no idea why. My world had shrunk to the small room I was in and everything beyond it seemed terrifying. I couldn't make any decisions. What if I decided wrong? I was immobilized by anxiety.
Some days after that I woke up so depressed I thought, What's the use? What's the use of anything? I stayed in bed and cried all day.
And realized, No, I really can't handle all these emotions. They're way too much for me! No wonder these parts of myself are holding tight to them so I won't feel them and can function.
Whereas I had been aware of one worldview at a time, unaware I ever saw the world from any other perspective, now I became "co-conscious." I knew there were other rooms in the house, furnished very differently from mine, housing residents with very different interests and ideas from mine. When I had negative thoughts about them, they knew it--they could read my mind! Very disconcerting. Sometimes what I thought about them hurt their feelings! And I didn't want to hurt them. Even though I was frustrated with them, I really did love them. I just had to figure out a way to cooperate with every one of them to get anything done. Because they were all me.
When I took time to get to know them and take them into consideration, we got along well. We would do kid things together. They'd choose a book to have me read aloud or we'd draw a picture. But I got tired of that and started skipping our time together, striding out ahead of them until they were out of earshot. And the only way they could get my attention was by sabotaging my plans so I couldn't do anything constructive.
Now, instead of feeling whole, with gaps of time missing or behavior of mine which I didn't understand, I felt terribly broken. I had let the others write in my journal and they were writing things I didn't agree with, things that shocked me--in handwriting I didn't recognize. I was saying things like, Why didn't you tell me? and they were saying, Why didn't you listen? and Why bother? You don't do what we want anyway.
That's why I wrote to Restoration in Christ Ministries and told them "I need counsel from someone regarding how to live as a multiple. . . " I described what I had been doing.
Diane Hawkins, director of RCM, wrote back, "It sounds to me as if you have no one to guide you and you are making haphazard decisions that seem good in your eyes. I strongly urge you not to do this. You need to understand the dynamics involved so that you know how to work with your system in a knowledgeable way. . ."
Not haphazard decisions. Logical ones. But yes, those that seemed good in my eyes.
I agreed they weren't working. I asked if RCM could recommend a counselor familiar with DID in my area and they did. I need to learn how to function as a divided self, how to be a team. I need to stop tearing down protective walls of denial before it's safe for the little ones who erected them to come out from behind them. I need to learn how to do it right.
That's why I'm seeing G.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Thursday, September 8, 2011
It's all about JOY
Yesterday Jerry and I both met with my new counselor Gary. This is my synopsis of what he told us:
It's all about JOY. Have you watched a baby in its mother's arms? When the mother gazes into the baby's face, totally enraptured, she is pouring love and nurture into that child. The baby's eyes are riveted on hers as it receives that deep sense of affirmation for just being, sometimes causing the little one to smile back and even wriggle with delight. This bond, this exchange of love through look, E. James Wilder calls "eye synchronization." You see it also in the faces of couples who are in love. They are not sitting side by side but facing each other, looking into each other's face, drinking in every expression, delighting in and enjoying the other person.
Eye synchronization is like an electromagnetic connectedness that transmits a sparkle--and elicits a sparkle in return. It creates a capacity for joy. When a person has a healthy joy capacity, s/he can experience bad things and negative emotions and still return to that hub of joy.
But many babies don't get this kind of pleased attention and eye contact. Experiences that produce terror or despair overwhelm and snuff out the joy. Growing up, the child or adult finds him/herself lost in fear or despair or anger and has a hard time finding the way back to joy. For these people, eye contact is difficult because it means feeling vulnerable. These people need safe relationships where they can look into the eyes of a spouse, parent, friend, or even stranger, and exchange mutual assurances of value, significance, and caring.
The good news is, the "joy center" of the brain can grow. The most neglected person can enlarge his or her joy capacity at any stage of life--and thrive!
I realized as he spoke that even though Jerry tells and shows me he loves me in multitudes of ways every day, I still need that "eye synchronization" to feel okay about myself. The men in my life always had their faces and attention on books and when I'm not getting enough reassuring eye contact I feel lost, less than, and lonely.
But now when he asks, as he often does, "What can I do for you, my love? How can I help you?" instead of saying "I don't know, I have no idea" even though I'm kind of wilting inside and don't understand why, I can say, "Let's synchronize our eyes!" and we can transmit love that way for awhile and build up each other's joy capacity!
Gary has recommended two books:
Multiple Identities by Diane Hawkins, esp. Chapter 4, "The Role of Conflict and Denial in DID"
The Life Model: Living from the Heart Jesus Gave You, by James G. Friesen and E. James Wilder.
It's all about JOY. Have you watched a baby in its mother's arms? When the mother gazes into the baby's face, totally enraptured, she is pouring love and nurture into that child. The baby's eyes are riveted on hers as it receives that deep sense of affirmation for just being, sometimes causing the little one to smile back and even wriggle with delight. This bond, this exchange of love through look, E. James Wilder calls "eye synchronization." You see it also in the faces of couples who are in love. They are not sitting side by side but facing each other, looking into each other's face, drinking in every expression, delighting in and enjoying the other person.
Eye synchronization is like an electromagnetic connectedness that transmits a sparkle--and elicits a sparkle in return. It creates a capacity for joy. When a person has a healthy joy capacity, s/he can experience bad things and negative emotions and still return to that hub of joy.
But many babies don't get this kind of pleased attention and eye contact. Experiences that produce terror or despair overwhelm and snuff out the joy. Growing up, the child or adult finds him/herself lost in fear or despair or anger and has a hard time finding the way back to joy. For these people, eye contact is difficult because it means feeling vulnerable. These people need safe relationships where they can look into the eyes of a spouse, parent, friend, or even stranger, and exchange mutual assurances of value, significance, and caring.
The good news is, the "joy center" of the brain can grow. The most neglected person can enlarge his or her joy capacity at any stage of life--and thrive!
I realized as he spoke that even though Jerry tells and shows me he loves me in multitudes of ways every day, I still need that "eye synchronization" to feel okay about myself. The men in my life always had their faces and attention on books and when I'm not getting enough reassuring eye contact I feel lost, less than, and lonely.
But now when he asks, as he often does, "What can I do for you, my love? How can I help you?" instead of saying "I don't know, I have no idea" even though I'm kind of wilting inside and don't understand why, I can say, "Let's synchronize our eyes!" and we can transmit love that way for awhile and build up each other's joy capacity!
Gary has recommended two books:
Multiple Identities by Diane Hawkins, esp. Chapter 4, "The Role of Conflict and Denial in DID"
The Life Model: Living from the Heart Jesus Gave You, by James G. Friesen and E. James Wilder.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
How do you tell your spouse--
How do you tell your spouse that he married eight of you, not just one? Jerry and I had been married three years. He knew about the incest--at least the single incident when I was 13 which was all I remembered at that point. When I found out I apparently had an alter I told him that, too. He didn't stiffen. He didn't recoil. He didn't laugh. He didn't argue or dismiss my words. He listened and he gave me a hug.
The next day I e-mailed him at his office:
"Jerry, my love,
"Some things are coming up tied in to what Gail told me yesterday about 'alters.' Is it okay if I ask [the director of the prayer team we are part of] if I can be prayed for on one of those weekends when we were going to minister?
"I love you--so, SO much!
"Jessica (big and little)"
He wrote back:
"To My Big Love (and all my little loves),
"It sounds like a good idea to me. Can you be an intersessor and an intersessee (?) at the same time?
"BLB [Big Love Bird)"
He accepted me with such casual calm, so matter-of-factly. I was barely accepting the fact of my own dividedness but he totally embraced it and me, even allowing that there might be more alters to be discovered and receiving them, too, ahead of time.
That acceptance has made it safe for the little ones to come out of the shadows, be known and get healed.
The next day I e-mailed him at his office:
"Jerry, my love,
"Some things are coming up tied in to what Gail told me yesterday about 'alters.' Is it okay if I ask [the director of the prayer team we are part of] if I can be prayed for on one of those weekends when we were going to minister?
"I love you--so, SO much!
"Jessica (big and little)"
He wrote back:
"To My Big Love (and all my little loves),
"It sounds like a good idea to me. Can you be an intersessor and an intersessee (?) at the same time?
"BLB [Big Love Bird)"
He accepted me with such casual calm, so matter-of-factly. I was barely accepting the fact of my own dividedness but he totally embraced it and me, even allowing that there might be more alters to be discovered and receiving them, too, ahead of time.
That acceptance has made it safe for the little ones to come out of the shadows, be known and get healed.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
How do you know?
You got your paycheck and were on your way to pay the rent. You weren't mugged, you weren't drunk and you aren't senile. But the money is gone and you have no idea where you spent it.
Sometimes when you're out shopping you sense a child's voice within you complaining, "I'm tired. I want to go home." It feels like part of you.
You have flashbacks of yourself doing things you can't imagine yourself doing--killing animals or having sex with other children, at an age when you didn't think you knew anything about sex.
A man you thought you only knew vaguely at church walks up to you and says you have hurt him deeply. You have no idea what he is talking about.
There are hours, days, years in your life you can't account for.
Some days you are too depressed to get out of bed.
You find dresses in your closet you don't remember buying, entries in your journal you only vaguely remember writing, in someone else's handwriting.
There's a family member or close friend of the family that makes your hackles rise just thinking about him. As far as you know, he hasn't done anything to you but he makes you very nervous. You don't trust him. If you had been molested, you somehow know he would have been the perpetrator.
You find yourself going on crying jags, trying to jump out of a moving car, cutting yourself, or having outbursts of rage which don't seem to have a sufficient cause. You can't understand why you'd have such intense reactions to things that don't seem to warrant them.
Sometimes when you're out shopping you sense a child's voice within you complaining, "I'm tired. I want to go home." It feels like part of you.
You have flashbacks of yourself doing things you can't imagine yourself doing--killing animals or having sex with other children, at an age when you didn't think you knew anything about sex.
A man you thought you only knew vaguely at church walks up to you and says you have hurt him deeply. You have no idea what he is talking about.
There are hours, days, years in your life you can't account for.
Some days you are too depressed to get out of bed.
You find dresses in your closet you don't remember buying, entries in your journal you only vaguely remember writing, in someone else's handwriting.
There's a family member or close friend of the family that makes your hackles rise just thinking about him. As far as you know, he hasn't done anything to you but he makes you very nervous. You don't trust him. If you had been molested, you somehow know he would have been the perpetrator.
You find yourself going on crying jags, trying to jump out of a moving car, cutting yourself, or having outbursts of rage which don't seem to have a sufficient cause. You can't understand why you'd have such intense reactions to things that don't seem to warrant them.
Lord, speak truth to the lies I believe
O God
help me to believe
the truth about myself--
no matter how beautiful it is!
Macrina Wiederkehr
G, my new counselor, confirmed for me last week that lies are keeping me broken and truth will set me free. For years I have been praying for God to speak truth to the lies I believe and He has. The truth that I am a divided self was one of the biggest revelations He finally got me to accept and that has made possible freedom in specific areas. I want to share some examples in later posts.
help me to believe
the truth about myself--
no matter how beautiful it is!
Macrina Wiederkehr
G, my new counselor, confirmed for me last week that lies are keeping me broken and truth will set me free. For years I have been praying for God to speak truth to the lies I believe and He has. The truth that I am a divided self was one of the biggest revelations He finally got me to accept and that has made possible freedom in specific areas. I want to share some examples in later posts.
Divided
Divided self, my counselor calls it.
Okay, how does it feel to be a divided self? Well, imagine you live in a house where only one room or part of one room is lit at a time. You spend a lot of time in the part that is lit. You may not like it much but it's familiar. You kind of know your way around. And it may be a room so expansive and furnished that you can live a full life there.
But sometimes you wake up in another part of the house. It may be very differently appointed, more constricted, maybe much less familiar. The darkness may have closed in more and it is breathing terror down your neck. But you have amnesia. You don't remember the other room, the spacious, well-lit, comfortable one with friends in it.
You wake up. The world is familiar. You know the people in it and your relationships to them. You know who you are.
You wake up. The world is a profoundly tragic place. You know there is beauty and kindness out there but it doesn't touch you; you can't connect with it. You cry constantly. You feel hopeless.
You wake up. The world is closing in on you, frightening. There is terror in the moving shadows. You are shaking. You can't move. No choice is safe but you don't know why.
You wake up. You feel safe and playful. You dance and sing--but only when you are alone.
You wake up. In your spirit, in the shadows, there is the vague, brief, presence of a child complaining, "I'm tired! I can't go any farther!" You sense the child is part of you.
You feel tension, like a rubber band stretched to the breaking point. Without intending to, you lash out with accusing words. Or you throw a lamp through the mirrored closet door. And wonder, Where did that come from?
You wake up and life is normal. But you have the feeling that sometimes your world is overwhelmingly painful, that you cry constantly. You wonder why you would want to do a thing like that.
You wake up and realize all these parts are you. There have been walls between you. You could only see from one perspective. Now you are increasingly aware you live in other worlds, with other perspectives. The one you see from now is only one of them.
Okay, how does it feel to be a divided self? Well, imagine you live in a house where only one room or part of one room is lit at a time. You spend a lot of time in the part that is lit. You may not like it much but it's familiar. You kind of know your way around. And it may be a room so expansive and furnished that you can live a full life there.
But sometimes you wake up in another part of the house. It may be very differently appointed, more constricted, maybe much less familiar. The darkness may have closed in more and it is breathing terror down your neck. But you have amnesia. You don't remember the other room, the spacious, well-lit, comfortable one with friends in it.
You wake up. The world is familiar. You know the people in it and your relationships to them. You know who you are.
You wake up. The world is a profoundly tragic place. You know there is beauty and kindness out there but it doesn't touch you; you can't connect with it. You cry constantly. You feel hopeless.
You wake up. The world is closing in on you, frightening. There is terror in the moving shadows. You are shaking. You can't move. No choice is safe but you don't know why.
You wake up. You feel safe and playful. You dance and sing--but only when you are alone.
You wake up. In your spirit, in the shadows, there is the vague, brief, presence of a child complaining, "I'm tired! I can't go any farther!" You sense the child is part of you.
You feel tension, like a rubber band stretched to the breaking point. Without intending to, you lash out with accusing words. Or you throw a lamp through the mirrored closet door. And wonder, Where did that come from?
You wake up and life is normal. But you have the feeling that sometimes your world is overwhelmingly painful, that you cry constantly. You wonder why you would want to do a thing like that.
You wake up and realize all these parts are you. There have been walls between you. You could only see from one perspective. Now you are increasingly aware you live in other worlds, with other perspectives. The one you see from now is only one of them.
Monday, September 5, 2011
littleones' self-portrait: Emily
Back on August 26 the little ones posted this self-portrait of April (happy baby), Melissa, Amy, Jessica, Jess, Jenny--and Emily! Emily? When scanning it, I noticed Emily at the bottom and she was a total surprise to me. Emily, who are you?
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Alexis
On September 14, 2008, I discovered another alter. I wrote in my journal, "I lay awake most of the night. . . At first I thought it was the altitude, which led me to worry about my heart, then my lungs, then other aspects of my health, then death. I couldn't pray or praise or reason. If I started to get some kind of grip on one fear, my mind would leap to another.
"Finally, toward morning I wondered into the void, Is there a part of me that's the worrier? And out of the emptiness came a name.
Alexis
"Alexis, I repeated. Immediately everything in me relaxed. I fell asleep.
"This is five days later and all I know about Alexis, beside the fact that she worries, is that her color is lavender."
I like yellow, too. I like flowers, purple and yellow flowers. I think I am 13. Pastels, straw hats, cream tea and scones. Gardens. Sunsets. Lace. Butterflies.
Alexis
She loves purple and yellow together. Actually more like the indigo of irises and the gold of daffodils. She is artistic. She likes to print in tall letters with colored pencils but the pastels are so light I didn't think they would show up if I scanned them. Another time, she wrote:
Colored leaves and narcissus.
She may also go by the name Dierdre. Maybe even Iris, too. Is she divided?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)