WordPress is either loading verrryyy slowly or not at all and it’s not easy keeping up with other people’s blogs or simply managing my own.

A mechanical problem forced me to cancel a therapy appointment. I have many questions about recent events, inside and out, and there is no one to turn to.

All this work over the past couple of years and I’m nothing more than a whiny, old bitch.

Nothing will get done if I’m a silly, stupid, scardey cat, so it’s time to just do stuff. No more over-analyzing every possible outcome of every situation. I am tired of just sitting there, waiting for something to happen and then nothing gets done. No more sitting on my ass wondering if this will hurt, this might trigger, etc.

This DID shit keeps holding me back from life. It puts my life in perspective and helps me understand myself, but it has also been limiting. That is my own fault. I get a diagnosis and I freeze. Bullshit. Everything I do lately is bullshit. I won’t sit here and let DID be my life or my excuse for life.

I don’t know how others deal with day-to-day life, but I have been afraid to do anything for fear of losing control, being triggered, or being hurt. I’m so tired and disappointed in myself for watching life drift by and not joining in.

From the novel that was my only friend, confidant, and inspiration through middle school:

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.”

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June 30, 2011

Usually I shove it down best I can so I have control, control, control. Stuff those people down and just talk on the inside. Don’t let them out or let them up and be together with them.

If I didn’t give a shit about this blog I would write about the terrible things they say while I’m doing regular things. It’s difficult to watch a kid play a video game while inside they’re showing me what was being done to them at that age.

Write, write, write. Get it all down and take it to the therapist and talk about it. Then back home and it starts all over.

I think I need to see my therapist more often. Kids are home and there’s no one to watch them and arrangements with the in-laws have to revolve around their schedule.

So I stop talking because I don’t make sense. It sounds like gibberish, like I’m having a stroke. And I play with some toys and draw pictures and I’ve found lots of toads and frogs to play with. Many of the bird parents are bringing their babies and we can go right up to them. We have butterflies and moths and even the snakes are mellow, so I can pick them up and we can check them out.

Okay. Back to work. If it hasn’t been used in the past 5-10 years I’m throwing it out. That keeps me busy lately.

I think they can see me, like maybe there’s a camera that they placed somewhere in here that I haven’t found yet.

When I get dressed it has to be in a small, closed space so no one can see me. I would be horrified if I had to dress elsewhere.

Sitting in my own house with the windows open I am extremely aware of how I look, move, breathe, talk, everything because someone may be watching from outside a window.

When I walk across the yard or to the mail box I have to put one foot carefully in front of the other, put my shoulders back, and walk with purpose. I don’t know why.

I can’t type anything on the computer if someone else is in the room.

My food needs to be spaced a particular way on my plate and eaten in a certain order or I can’t eat it and my appetite will just disappear.

All the surfaces have to be clean in the house or I go nuts.

The bathroom is always meticulously clean. I don’t want any germs there.

It’s sad. I can’t navigate through this if I don’t know what the rules are.

Been here seven years and I’ve been invited to only one house party. Until last year I volunteered whenever I could, listened to people, etc., but I think I must look and act so weird that people don’t want to be around me or wish to try and find out more about me. I don’t volunteer anymore and I don’t shop local anymore. Now I drive 15 minutes to shop in a city where I’m anonymous.

Abusing a child and beating into them that they are nothing, and exist only as an experiment, an object, and less than human makes it hard to get through the day. I can’t see where I’m going, so I just keep moving and moving until I stop.

I’m so scatterbrained and feel so weird.

 

 

 

I planned on my hysterectomy last Tuesday to be a great big deal, inside and out. In the end the host was the one that had any issues. The alters handled it brilliantly. The host wants everyone to understand that this was a major surgery and we should be worrying about it more, but the alters are glad it’s over, happy about the changes the surgery will bring, and ready to move on. The host wanted all of us to be terribly upset about losing our girly parts, but everyone inside felt nothing but relief.

Maybe the host feels that this is probably the last surgery so we need to milk it. I don’t get much support after I have surgery around here, although the family is doing really well this time.

DID isn’t an issue at the moment. Neither are flashbacks. I’m having recurring nightmares, though, of an area I’ve dreamed of for years, and the medicine isn’t helping, so I’m going to stop taking it. One less pill. I also stopped taking Nexium because long-term studies show that over time it can lead to increased anxiety, racing thoughts, and rapid heartbeat, which is what was happening the past several months. Since I stopped taking it I haven’t had a problem with that and I just need to tweak my diet a little.

School ends this week which means cutting back on therapy and rearranging my daily schedule.

My mother continues to send me annoying emails like this from June 11th:
“Good morning Lisa,

How are you doing?
The girls should be finishing school some time this month, right? Didn’t (daughter) say she was playing softball this summer? I bet they are looking forward to a fun summer. Hopefully it will be a little less hectic for you.
Margaret is coming in from Montana today and Theresa is having a family picnic tomorrow. Margaret has been coming home a lot, I think it’s because Iona is getting older and she wants to see her as much as she can. Iona will be 98yrs old this November. Iona refuses to use a cane or walker and she falls a lot but she will not gives in. She is an amazing woman.
I was thinking a lot about you last week when I was weeding the garden. I was over by the English rock garden you made when you were with us. Right now it is full of your grandpa’s lilies. And a couple of days ago we had to trim your heather bush, it is getting fairly big. The yucca plants are growing good, especially the one in the front yard. Who was it that gave you the yucca plants, for some reason I thought it was someone you met at… college. All but 2 of them are flowering now.
Did you plant your vegetable garden yet? The only vegetables we have is an upside down tomato plant on the patio. I hope it works. We have a lot of flowering buds on it right now.
Did you lose any trees from all the storms. Our neighbor next door had 2 tree limbs fall on the house 2 days ago.
The nurse I broke in a little over a year ago quit and now they are looking again. I still only work a couple days a week.
Your dad is doing well with his health.
Well, I have to go, hope all is well with you and hope (hubby) and kids are doing good.
Miss you and love you, Mom”

I do not speak to this woman (it’s been over one year since I’ve spoken with my parents on the phone), and it’s been several years since I’ve had any contact with the people she mentions. She lives in an imaginary world where we have some kind of relationship. It helps me to post her emails and know that they are out there for anyone to see. Oh well.

It’s quiet inside, which spooks me a little. I made it through the surgery, though, and I thought I wouldn’t. When I opened my eyes in the recovery room they had already put my glasses on and tucked the stuffed animal I brought with me (my oldest daughter made it for me) under my arm. That was cool.

I’m okay today so I’m going to test myself and go shopping. First groceries and then to the video game/movie store to pick up the extended versions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. With my trusty tummy binder and knowing that I still have some Percocet left for pain I will be invincible!

See ya round!

Keeping up with reading and writing a blog is taking a back seat to mentally and physically preparing myself for surgery in a few weeks. As DID thingies arise it’s been a little easier to handle and I’ve been pleasantly surprised to understand just how well my coping skills are working lately.

As okay as this has been going the past few weeks I have been triggered by my mother’s email-spamming (tons of stupid, usually christian, forwarded crap) and her personal emails to me. Following are her personal emails. I had thought about picking them apart and explaining the lies, stupidity, nonsense, etc., but I feel better simply posting them. It has been one year since I’ve spoken to my parents on the phone. I have never asked about them or any member of my family. I have never written them an email, only responded if necessary. So here goes the personal emails over the past month:

Apr. 18, 2011

Hi Lisa,

Just wanted you to know that we will be out of town today to wed , so if you need us for anything, you can call us on the tracfone.
We sent out the kids Easter baskets sat. Hope all is well with you and hope you two had a wonderful anniversary.

Love, mom and dad
—————————————————————
Apr. 21, 2011

We went to see your dad’s chest surgeon today and he had his CT scan of his chest before the appt and the doctor said that his chest now looks like that of a normal patient. No cancer and whatever it was that he had in the remaining lobes that the pulmonologist checked is no longer there. GOOD NEWS

Love mom and dad
—————————————————————
Apr. 30, 2011

 Good morning Lisa,

Today we are dropping you a line because you do not want us to call, to say we hope that [daughter] has a wonderful birthday and the day itself will be beautiful for her.
We were wondering also, how you made out with the storm, hope there was no damage. I was thinking about that area way in back of house that is like a swamp and if it filled up with water?  Hope you all have a wonderful day.

Love mom and dad

****NB****I have never said that I don’t want them to call****
————————————————————–
May 4, 2011

Hi honey,

Just wanted you to know that this weather craps the bed

Love, mom
—————————————————————–
May 5, 2011

Hi honey,

Dad went to dermatologist yesterday and had 3 biopsy’s of his head, they will let us know how they turn out. This man has had every part of his body biopsied.
How are you doing with your sugar and sleeping? Also your knee’s.
The sun was wonderful today.
[daughter] enjoy her birthday, did she have friends for a sleep over?

Talk to you later,
Love you, mom
————————————————————-
May 9, 2011

Howdy Lisa,

Hope you had a wonderful Mother’s day, I got thinking about it and I envisioned [daughter] and [daughter] making your dinner, since you taught them both to cook. Did they? If so , what did they make. Hope it was a day of rest for you, you need it.
Your Dad went to your grandma’s because I was sick. He got her a Jesus coffee cup that says Jesus saves and when you pour coffee in it , his beard comes off his face and it says Jesus shaves. She loved it.
Well , take care and I love you, Mom
————————————————————-
May 12, 2011

Hello my sweets,

Wanted to let you know that dad biopsies , none were cancer.
Also, we will be leaving town tomorrow morning till Sunday. It’s your dad’s once a year golf trip with the boys and so I’m going away with Sue till Sunday. You can always get a hold of me on the track phone if something happens.
This is the kind of weather I like and we have been getting a lot of outdoor work done and gardens are looking good. We really hope you can come down this summer. Have you started your vegetable garden yet?

Love, Mom
—————————————————————-
May 16, 2011

We got back yesterday. It was raining here when we left,raining where we went,raining where your dad went and raining when we came home, it’s unbelievable and it was pouring when we got up today. Unfortunately john and your dad got sick on their dinner Friday night, which curtailed their activity a little bit for rest of weekend. Sue and I had a very good time and everything went well.
Hope all is well with you. How are the girls and [son] doing?
I see your mother-in-law is having surgery, I sent her a note to let me know how she does.
Talk to you soon, Love Mom
—————————————————————

I was trying and working really hard, but these emails brought out two new alters, night terrors, panic attacks, and a sensation of being choked that keeps coming and going. My hallucinations were going away until now and my psychiatrist is scheduling a CT brain scan in July and has tweaked some medications.

I don’t delete these personal emails right away in case they are attempting to come to the house and sometimes it’s difficult to tell by her subject line.

The new alters are quite talkative and sometimes it feels like they are riding on my shoulders wherever I go, but they feel safe and comfortable. That’s what’s important, too. We need to feel safe, comfortable, aware, accepted, loved, respected and validated.

I’m not ranting really. Those little girls wouldn’t have come forward if they didn’t feel it was time, and while my coping techniques are useful for many situations I see now where I need some extra stuff.

Everything just keeps building upon the last step. I want it to reach a landing so I can take a break for a while before continuing on this healing journey.

I wanted to write and rant but it’s sooo loud, loud, loud! Therapy left me more frustrated than ever. We talked about a million things and I cannot focus or finish a sentence or thought.

It’s hard to stop and prioritize. And I’m so tired. So much needs to be done.

I know what mom did. I see the look on her face and I hear what she said. That vindictive fucking bitch. And it’s playing over and over and over in my head.

Inside there is an alter who seems ageless and another one that feels older than me and is very nurturing and loving. I’m trying to give everything over to them so I can breathe. It’s just starting to feel a little better. It needs to feel better because I have:

* another surgery soon

* my daughter’s birthday

* my son’s preparing for college

* and basic running around for food, appointments, sports, concerts, life in general shit

Over the past week I have run out of two stores in a panic, I’m hiding in closets and behind doors in my house like I did as a kid, and continue to search for noises that turn out to be more hallucinations. I forgot my birthday (I don’t celebrate it, though), anniversary, and nearly forgot my kid’s birthday (she reminded me in time). Things are moving too fast inside and out. I cope during panic attacks, walk around the house after I wake up from increased nightmares, and load up on drugs to sleep. I look like I’ve been hit by a baseball bat and makeup doesn’t really smooth it out. On the plus side I’ve lost a dress size and bra size, but there’s more gray in my hair.

That’s my fucking rant I suppose. I’ll call the stupid psychiatrist about my stupid hallucinations and my stupid nightmares even though it’s stupid. Nyah.

DID is a busy disorder. So much to do, so little time. I feel like I am the leader of a small country with my citizens constantly clamoring to be heard.

I wanted to write about the last couple of weeks, but a few little girls need to express how they experienced mother-daughter sexual abuse.  **trigger** It goes something like this:

WHY? WHY?
I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!
STOP IT!
OKAY! OKAY!

Only she never got to say that out loud. Mom hurt her, belittled her, and made her believe what was happening was her fault. Mom stripped her essence and beat into her that she was an unworthy whore. She watched and she laughed and she did nothing. She still watches and she still laughs and she still belittles.

She hurt me and she let me be hurt. She put me in serious situations that no child should ever be in. She told me to shut up and stop faking when I said I hurt.

I have always remembered the way she treated (treats) me. I have always had little glimpses and funny feelings about other things she did to me. Now a few little girls are helping me understand what did happen and why I had those funny feelings. I’m trying very hard to accept and respect their experiences. These girls hurt so bad. I’m beginning to feel their rage, humiliation, and disgust and I keep pushing it down so I can get through the day.

Tomorrow is therapy and I hope I can bring these girls to the forefront and learn to work through these feelings safely.

I didn’t mean to trigger anyone.

Ahem. The Committee of the System would like to express their heartfelt appreciation for your existence (that being anyone who stops by to read this crap). Your words, your experiences, and your support help us move through life.

Sometimes I imagine that those who are further along the healing path have access to great wisdom and insight. And when you step away from the computer flowers sprout from beneath your feet and faeries toss rose petals on your path. Don’t tell me this doesn’t really happen, or my illusions will be shattered forever.

I know that when I get up from the computer I’ll drag my ass to the kitchen and get to work, but the sky won’t open up and a rainbow won’t light my path (I KNOW that’s how it happens with some of you).

My life is boring. The only excitement comes from battling and bargaining with my inner demons and demonettes, working through new memories, and figuring out which sounds are real and which are hallucinations.

I think my life would make a great movie…….. There’s drama, tragedy, sudden plot twists, action, adventure, travel, life-altering moments…….

So I remembered some scary, filthy stuff, but the little girls who experienced it didn’t think it was scary or filthy. It just was. That is simply what happened. They were so relieved to share what they went through, and I need to feel relieved also.

I’m also hearing things several times a day and it’s hard to tell the difference between what’s a real sound and what’s not. My therapist wants me to call the psychiatrist but I’m afraid to. One sound in particular confounds me. It’s a record player and the needle is all the way at the end of the record, making that sound over and over. The strange thing about it is that I can actually walk around the sound. It’s as though the record player is right in front of me, invisible, and I can move around it. It makes me feel crazy. Maybe it’s a ghost. I’ve asked inside if anyone can help me learn where this record player is from but I have no answer yet. I did tell my therapist about it, though.

Many of the sounds are triggering and I won’t write about them here. I would rather have the “usual” flashbacks. My husband said it must be similar to what some Vietnam soldiers experienced and people thought they were crazy. I’d like to know what they are from so I can help and work through it.

One thing that does help is playing non-English radio stations loudly on the Sirius/XM radio. That and trying to crochet and watch a subtitled movie at the same time.

Everyone is gone now and I’ve rambled on enough. Time to make it less quiet here.

Febuary 9th Was a Long Day

February 10, 2011

Step 1. Ask therapist to PROMISE not to get mad at you before you even sit on the floor.

Step 2. Hand her suicide kit containing 40-50 narcotic pain killers, X-Acto knife, and alcohol pads along with note for her that reads “I’m really, really, really sorry”, etc., and expresses urge to self-harm while she watches.

Step 3. Let it all fall out. Don’t think about anything. Just let it fall, fall, fall, fall out.

Step 4. Buy a Caramel Mocha at McDonald’s, after she feels you can drive, with the window down, so that freezing cold keeps you aware all the way home.

Step 5. Don’t stop at the grocery store. That is a bad idea.

My brain separates mom’s abuse from dad’s. Dad’s abuse has few problems being remembered. Mom’s is under different layers, or at least filed in a different way. The first layer is her basic disdain that I was born a girl instead of a boy that would carry on the family name. Another is about having red hair and her disdain (jealousy? Hard to tell the difference. I’m not good with emotions). Another is about having long hair as a child because dad liked it, so she had it cut into a page boy haircut when I was nine. Another is about neglect – physical and emotional. Another is the conflict between “good” mom and “mean” mom, which is further divided into physical, emotional, and sexual abuses.

The parts that were created to protect me from dad have a much smoother time revealing themselves and accepting that it’s safe now, it can never happen again, etc., and it’s easier to figure out what they need to create a space inside for them.

The parts created to deal with and/or protect me from mom feel more complicated. Memories of her abuse are more linear, so I can think back and know what happened, but I always wonder why, what did I do wrong, why does she do that to me, why does she say that, why does she like so-and-so more than she likes me, why doesn’t she love me, what can I do to get her love………

I was going over a list about the effects and/or signs of incest a while back and I was saying to myself, “Oh yeah. Dad did that. And that. And that. Oh, that was Mom definitely…”, but I ignored what mom had done and only focused on the father-daughter incest.

I know my mother is a wrong creature, but I also divided up what she did into a few categories: she was jealous that dad had sex with me (without stopping it or getting help), she was an RN so she needed to try the new medications to make sure they worked (She said I was her guinea pig.), and if she couldn’t stop dad from doing what he did she could watch and laugh (which is what she did, and still does, when I’m hurt, in pain, having a bad day, out of a job, spill something on me, fall down, etc.). For whatever reason this made some sort of sick sense to me and I never thought of it as sexual abuse. I thought she was simply a souless, empty, pathetic, fucking bitch from Hell. Another question that plagued me was why am I the one being put through all of this. She spoiled my sister rotten and I couldn’t figure out what I did wrong besides not being born a boy (something she recently reminded me of again).

So the more I learned about myself, how my System functions, the difference between right and wrong behaviors, healthy versus unhealthy, the more I saw that besides the emotional and physical abuses I suffered at her hands the more many of them fell into sexual abuse as well. They usually overlap each other, which makes it more confusing. Many things she did were only sexual, and often that felt like some revenge or payback I don’t understand.

The threats and consequences about telling anyone what she was doing are also there, just like dad’s. Recently I’ve met two alters who were created to kill if I told. The one created by my father’s threats is called M, and his job was to make sure I commit suicide before telling anyone the horrible things dad did, especially the things that have surfaced over the last 15 months. The alter created by my mother’s threats is called Andy, and his job is to kill me, like a hitman. I thought that was an interesting difference. M makes sure I commit suicide, while Andy actually kills me. I’m not exactly sure what that means or if it is common to mother-daughter sexual abuse (MDSA) survivors.

Writing this out is conflicting for me. I feel an inner sigh of relief, ashamed, and scared. I still don’t know where to go with this subject and I hope I at least shed some light and understanding on what happened and what is happening at this point. Please don’t be afraid to ask anything. Comments and suggestions are always welcome.