The runway

    "There is a lighted runway from the back of your mind to the front. Who would like to come forward and speak?" G began our session yesterday with this invitation. Last time we dealt with the first two lies, the ones Daddy told us: "It's all right," and "You like it." Now G was inviting to the "place of blessing (and executive control)" whoever held the next lie we had believed, chronologically.
     Again we all waited. I could see the runway, not a runway for airplanes but for models. Lights high up in a ceiling we couldn't see were focused on it, the long, narrow walk from the dimness obscuring a group of me to dimness obscuring the huge room full of people surrounding us. Rows and rows of people, attentive and affirming. 
     Now I could see a small figure start down the strip of light. From my vantage point above and to one side, the little girl seemed to be about an inch tall. She was wearing a simple loose shiny white dress with a scoop neckline, sleeveless, falling straight to the tops of her sandals. It was a little too big for her. She came forward slowly but without hesitation.
     I described her to G.
     "Which one is she?" he asked.
     "I don't know," I said. "Maybe Melissa? Or Jenny. White is her color."
     "Ask Jesus to give her a name, if she wants one."
     But instinctively I knew she already had a name. I asked Jesus who she was. And he said, "Original self."
     I told G, adding, "so her name must be Jessica but He didn't say so."
     As  I continued to watch through my mind's eye, this little person kept coming down the long walkway, all alone, not shy, not self-conscious, not awkward, not nervous, though she knew thousands of eyes were on her.
     "I think she likes the attention," I said. Immediately I realized she was not enjoying the attention as one swelled up with pride by it. She was not seeking the limelight.
     Instead, she knew it was her turn and she walked steadily forward in awe that she was getting attention, that all those unseen eyes were watching her with approval, even delight. Awed that she mattered.
     G was talking but I hardly heard him. She had reached the end of the runway and as she did darkness swallowed it up as the light moved closer, singling her out. A crown appeared on her head and a wand in her hand.
     "Clothed in robes of righteousness, a royal princess, the daughter of the King," G gushed.
     But it wasn't that. It wasn't that at all. She was not that ambitious. The crown was a cheap paste crown and the wand with its star glued to the end was something from a department store. They were something which would enchant a little girl standing on the sidewalk, her hand in her daddy's, gazing in a toy store window. The daddy would follow her gaze, take her in and buy them for her. When they got home he would help pull the plain white dress of some shiny material that wasn't real satin over her head. He would kiss the top of her head gently and adjust the crown for her. He would hand her the wand and take her other hand and kiss it and bow and swirl her around and tell her she was beautiful. He would  treat her like a princess.
     And that would be enough. Just to be like other little girls, dressing up and being treated like princesses by their daddies. The world of ermine and diamonds and titles and elegance was not a world she knew or cared about. Her world was the wonder of just being alive.  I matter. That was the truth that shattered the third, unvoiced lie.
      The audience had faded, silently moved away, and it was all right. The other, partial selves were still back by the curtains and that was all right, too. Rainbows of light were playing across her white dress now and it sparkled. She was too full of joy to notice.
     Little girl things. As if through bars, wistfully, she had watched other girls busy with toys. Now it was her turn. She could have normal little girl things too, just like them.
     "This is her coming-out party," G said. "She's been in a closet and hidden. She has been sheltered from the storm. She has innocence."
     Yes.
     Prodded by the Lord I said now, "My name is Jessica Reynolds."

Playdates

     One or two a day for months. Then, suddenly, 20 or more, day after day. Where did all you new readers come from? Or are there the same few coming to this blog a dozen times a day now? Who are you all?
     You don't have to tell me.

Getting closer

     At first I was so compartmentalized--the compartments were so water-tight--I didn't know I was not a whole person. I did not even know I was not in touch with my own complete history. Each self thought she was all there was.

     Then I became aware--co-conscious--of some of the others inside and got in touch with them and learned to know them. At that point we were separate and distinct.

     Recently--since G asked us to keep a journal together--we seem to be at a stage where our edges are blurred and we work together as a kind of committee, pooling our opinions and knowledge and skills. My posts show evidence of that. When April was describing herself the other day one of the older ones was writing her thoughts for her, adding clarifying words like "veneer" and "interposed," which April didn't know but which described what she meant.

     So does our journal. It isn't written in separate writing styles, some small, hesitant, and cramped, others scrawled and careless, others precise and determined, but all in the same adult hand. I don't think of "me" as opposed to "her," or individuate "Melissa," "Amy," "Jessica," or "Alexis" as much. It's mostly just "us."

     Yesterday at our 2-hour session, G talked about--let's see, he didn't call it merging but it was some word meaning integration. He said we could when we're ready.

From our journal 2 weeks ago

     10-13 BREAKTHROUGH. Deepest, earliest conflict resolved! When we walked out of G's office, the whole world looked new.

     10-16-11 I feel like I'm walking around in a blast furnace--and not being burned. Praise the Lord.

     We had two hours. G said to pray open the eyes of my heart that means not physical heart but deep self, memory, mind, me. He asked who wanted to come to the front of the mind and talk. He said that is the place of executive control. He said is the Lord nudging anyone to come forward? He said it is the place of blessing. He said This is your moment.
     Inside everyone was looking around and waiting. No one went forward. We kept waiting a long time. G waited too. He did not say anything.
     G wanted the one to come who believed the first lie, a lie at the trunk of the tree not in the branches.
     April was not sure if she was the one supposed to come or wanted to come but she started talking. She told about how she covered the baby with her body to protect her. G said 2-3 years old. April said no, under one year. She said baby is original self and maybe baby wants to talk but how can a baby talk.
     April talk about herself, happy baby. We were surprised. April really was happy baby like she said. She knew there were bad things but she would not think about them. She pushed them up to top of cave she could see their roots dangling down but she kept the rest out of sight and out of reach.
     "I am thin," she said. "Not thin like a body but thin--resources. Thin like a piece of cloth." We did not understand. Later someone inside said, "Veneer." Like thin layer.
     April talked for baby: I feel pressure on my chest. I am smothered. I cannot breathe. Helpless. This life-threatening. (Maybe someone older was talking for baby.) I'm dying. Maybe I am already dead.
     G said, Can you see where Jesus is? We looked for Jesus in the room but he was not standing there watching. He was on the bed on His knees. He was tucking the baby down into a hollow in the mattress next to where Daddy's head went. Like Moses in a basket. Putting her safe.
     Then April spread over her like a piece of cloth with a colorful pattern on it. There was not enough space between Baby and Daddy for April to fit but Jesus interposed her. He put April between Baby and the hurt and fear. April had no weight so Baby was not squished. And there was space around Baby in the safe nest so she could move if she wanted.
     But she did not move. She lay so still April could not see any breathing. But she knew Baby was a little, little bit alive.
     G said, Jessica Renshaw is very intelligent. She figured out how to split creatively to protect the baby.
     But I am not Jessica Renshaw! I am Jessica Reynolds!
     And I did not do anything. Jesus did it. I did not know what to do and I had no time to be creative. No time to think. Just to be scared. Jesus kept us alive and safe.
     Jesus laid the cloth over the basket and April protected her with happy thoughts and memories because Daddy said It's all right! You like this. This is good. This is our playtime.
     But when April, the cloth, pulled away, she took away that lie. Then we knew even what she believed was all right WAS NOT ALL RIGHT and WE DIDN'T LIKE IT! We knew it was scary and it hurt. Maybe Daddy sat on our chest and put part of him in our mouth.
     G said speak life into her. So I asked Jesus to do that, breathe life into her and he did. Now we could see a faint heartbeat.
     I lifted her out of her safe hiding place and held her. She was so tiny, like new born almost, but she was fine. She was not hurt at all. Unscathed.
     April was lying aside like a crumpled piece of cloth, like a glove without a hand (but thinner) but she was alive, too. I wrapped April around the baby when I held her but I don't know if that was a good thing to do because April is denial.
     April was just like a scene painted on a stage set with a rainbow and flowers and butterfies. That was all.
     As soon as Jesus put her between Baby and the Bad Daddy, Melissa shot away to the end of the bed like a firecracker and then Jess and Jenny shot away from her.
     Almost at once--bang bang bang--only no noise.
     G said Was that the first time? Was that the very first time you believed that lie?
     Yes we said.
     Maybe part of you still believes it was all right or you liked it.
     No we said. Nobody wants to believe that anymore.
     I laid the Baby on the bed--the hole was swallowed up now, filled in--she was very contented and now Melissa crawled out of the shoe closet and climbed up on the bed and lay down beside the Baby and started sucking her thumb.
     Jess came back. He said I don't need to be here anymore.
     A few others came back. They all lay together on the bed. G said they were coming home.
     Jenny waited where she was. She was troubled. She didn't know what to do. If she stopped pretending she was a virgin and denying she had ever had sex then what? How could she just accept good sex without having to remember the bad sex? Maybe there is a different lie with her.
     Two worriers stayed away too. I didn't know if there were two or one with two names. Both seem to come out in early morning. Melissa is doubled up with anxiety and indecision. Alexis is very stressed like she is going to have a stroke or a heart attack and she is on alert all the time.
     So I guess there are two. They are not sure it's safe to come home yet.
     Jesus told us the splitting was necessary for us to survive or at least that is how He chose to have us survive.
     The last we saw the ones who came home to the Baby, they were resting around her and a fountain of water was gushing from the baby's stomach. It made everyone happy so I think that was the fountain in the Bible, living water.
     I think that is our Joy Center.
     That was 10-13.

     10-17 The blast furnace is the fire of persecution. First God burns His fire inside us and has us write things like He made the prophets write. Then we go to church and feel some people hating us even though other people are hugging us and calling us brave. That is the fire of persecution. When we are small it makes our head and stomach hurt.
     Three days ago I left a message for my counselor and also e-mailed a "Help!" message to my friend Genie asking for prayer and saying I was in torment: "Genie, please pray for me. In the middle of all this abuse by the church leaders I;m in counsleing and discovering more of my fahter' abuse when I wass little. I am in torment." (That is how I spelled it.)
     After G called I could write her that I felt better. He told me, "You're getting closer to your whole history. The dissociative barriers are thinning. There's anger and pain. You're doing well.
     "But the system needs to be ready to recover the truth. We want the other identities to be okay too. Slow it down, feel joy, build joy, synchronize. Continue to nurture and love them. They took the bullets. You're zealous, you're a go-getter. But stay in sync with what God's doing. God is somehow going to work it together for good for you and Jerry."
     He said again, "You're doing great. Keep building, trying to receive joy. What would be a joy thing for all of you?"
     Then he said a blessing over "every part of Jessica Renshaw." He said, "Nothing will ever separate Jessica Renshaw from Jesus Christ, from conception to the present moment. He says, 'I want to give you My joy.'
     "His strength and love can carry you. You are not alone on this journey for a moment. We can trust Him."

(3) Changing of the guard

     When we saw G he said "New conflicts have caused lots of switching." He said, "If there are any dormant parts below or behind the inner reality, they have been activated. The system is in jeopardy of switching a lot. The activated ones are standing in the doorway looking out, watching to see what will happen. They will be more affected." Something like that. We wrote it down.
     He said we are incredibly wonderful mighty woman of God. He said "See if the little ones can remain in background in arms of Jesus" because these men are still scaring us when we see them at church. He said to build a wall of protection for the little ones. We said, "A bunker." That is what we wanted because we feel we are in a war and we don't want bombs to fall on our head. He said, "No, someplace nicer." But we want a bunker! Bunkers are strong. We saw them in Normandie. We can decorate it nice inside, like a soft nest with feathers and soft music and pretty colors and flowers.
     He said to pray "Lord, show me spiritually what I can do--fit something with nails and pegs, build a wall, a room of safety."
    We have not done that. he says we are at the back of the brain and sometimes he calls one of us to come to the front. I don't know where we are but mostly we feel safe. Someone told us big angels are marching to replace small angels who have been guarding us. She said Jerry and I have a big angel behind each one of us because we are called to a higher level of authority for a higher level of warfare. She said God called it the changing of the angelic guard. She said we are in God's hand and no one can touch us so we feel brave and safe.
     G said In the authority of Jesus, I bless all the parts, especially the little ones.
     We will talk to him again tomorrow. I want to know what our Daddy did to us.

(2) Scared

     These men and other men are doing bad things to our church. Just like Daddy, they say, "Don't tell. Don't tell." But we told. We told everyone. Now these men are very mad at us. They want to destroy us. So we feel very scared.
     Jerry and I are Prayer Coordinators for our church. These men do not want us to pray for our church. That one I told you got angry at us for asking people to pray for our church. He called us and said "Who did you ask to pray! What are you praying! Who made you prayer coordinator?! But HE did! So I was confused. He called us again and said, "Who told you about that meeting! You are not supposed to know about that meeting! It is confidential!" I said "I am sorry. I did not know it was confidential. Can't we pray for it anyway?" He said, "WE'RE praying!" so that meant no. But I don't think they are praying the same things we are praying. 
     They say "There are things the church people are not supposed to know. Don't talk about it. You will divide the church. Keep quiet until things settle down. Keep quiet until everything is in place." What things? I don't think they are good things.
     I will not be quiet. I will not protect perpetrators ever again.

(1) Sad

      The day we told in class that we are fractured we said "we need prayer." we told that a man hurt us with words and it felt like when we were little: The man called and asked questions until I started to cry. I said, "I feel like you are attacking me. You are badgering me!" He said, "I am not badgering you" and he kept asking the questions.

     Three bad men and one of their wives were visiting in our class that day I told about being split. They were spying on our teacher because he tried to stop them hurting our church. One man was the one who hurt us with his words. I was so scared because he was there. When we told the class that he called and scared us and made us split more, we cried a lot. we were shaking so hard Jerry held his arm around us so we would not fall off the chair.  

     The bad people heard me say I am split.

     Every week I used to put people's prayer requests in the e-bulletin. After I said I am in counseling because I am split the elders took my name out of the bulletin and put in the name of the man who scared me on the phone. Now people have to give their prayer requests to him.

     Yesterday, the woman who sat in our class wrote to other people, "There is someone different to call on the prayer requests because the previous person said she is getting counseling and 'other things' which she stated herself in a class."

     I wrote to her, "I am sad that my being in counseling for having been the victim of incest throughout my early childhood makes me unworthy of putting other people's prayer requests in the bulletin. Love, Jessica"

     She wrote me back, "I have never and will never call you unworthy because I don't believe that.  As you noticed below I did not say what you said that Sunday even though you made it public."

     I wrote her, "Maybe not "unworthy" but "disqualified"? I'm glad my heavenly Father doesn't disqualify me for His service because of what my earthly father did to me!

     "I was not making anything 'public.' Our class is not 'public.' I was pouring out my heart to my brothers and sisters who are safe people I can trust to pray for me. I didn't think about the fact that the outsiders present might not be people I could trust to keep such a personal confidence."

      So I am sad. Now everyone knows I am split. They will not let us pray or put church members' requests in the bulletin because I am in counseling and I am split. I feel sad for the little ones. It is not their fault Daddy did those things to them and it is not their fault we are fractured. I am still proud of them!

      I am not supposed to talk about this at church. So I am telling you.