Good? Bad? Both?

Posted on December 31, 2016 by

It’s a deeply perplexing problem for us. We have attempted to answer it for a life time. Were my parents good? Were they evil or deceptive or tricky or just plain wrong? Were they good for other people but not good for me/us? Were they good for us, and we just didn’t respond correctly to them? My mind goes around and around.

From an outside perspective my parents were practically perfect. They very rarely disagreed with each other and never said an unkind word about each other. Surely at a bare minimum they were good with and for each other – a great example of what a marriage should be.

They blew it sometimes when it came to parenting, not just me but for my siblings as well. But no parent is perfect. We all make decisions that seem right to us in the moment but the fall-out aftereffects prove that the judgement was off the mark. But I can’t let my parents off the hook that easily. There were too many times when I intentionally didn’t parent the same way as I was parented because of the harm I experienced. Too many big ticket items where they just didn’t see my need. Even though I am tempted to accredit that to my own account, I don’t think I would have missed the significance of the pain my child was feeling in the same way that they did.

I have to finish this later. Sorry about that. The med changes I wrote about last time are still unsettled and they are impacting me now. ) :

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Feeling Dangerously Good

Posted on December 9, 2016 by

It’s quickly approaching Christmas time and we are very busy making things and buying things for loved ones and friends. Most likely I won’t post again until after Christmas, but time will tell.

Usually this time of year is a huge struggle for me. The S.A.D.(Season Affect Disorder) makes my heart heavy, and memories of my mother’s final days with us at this same time of the year still linger with acute grief. I absolutely love giving gifts, especially ones I make, so the challenges I feel during the days leading up to Christmas are tempered with the joy of giving; but as soon as Christmas is over my emotions plummet. I really should say “we” instead of “I” because I don’t know of any of me who is not affected by conflicting emotions this time of year.

But the last couple days have been amazingly upbeat. I’ve been having severe migraines almost every day for several months now, but over the past week or two I have had 2-3 days without a migraine. That could be contributing to my improved sense of well-being. I started a new psych med just over a week ago, so that might be contributing as well. Two days ago I had a big break through with my therapy and I was elated (I still am), so that might be contributing as well.

So, you might ask, what is so dangerously good? Well….I’m having trouble with sleep. My internal clock seems to be out-of-sink. Some days I don’t get to bed until early morning hours and don’t get up until late afternoon the next day. Some nights I lay awake with my mind playing old familiar songs over and over again, or just thinking non-stop. Sometimes lately I have been up all night (or almost all night) and then continued active through the next day as if I had not lost any sleep the night before. Earlier today a migraine was in full swing so I took my meds and went to bed. But instead of resting my mind fixated on designing a dog sweater for a friend’s little dog. Even now my fingers are flying across the keys, much faster than my normal. My hands are trembling – not a lot but definitely noticeable. Maybe that’s because I’ve been decreasing the amount of codeine I take for my migraine headaches. Maybe, just maybe, these things can all be explained away very logically. However (you just knew there had to be an “However” coming), these are all things that happen when I am starting a season of manic. I haven’t been manic for a very long time. It’s been years. For me the swings from manic to depression to both at the same time can be very intermittent, and they can last for days or months or years. The fact that I can list all the reasons why being manic is a good thing is a very bad sign.

So it is with trepidation and hesitancy that I say I’m feeling dangerously good. We will just have to wait and see what the days ahead hold. God promises to be with me no matter the season; and He tells me to take one day at a time. (He even says each day has enough troubles of it’s own.) I am trying to do that no matter how I feel.

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So Much for “Tomorrow”

Posted on November 7, 2016 by

Okay, I admit it. I’ve been stalling – avoiding what I knew I needed to do. The fact is, I started out several times to address what I knew I needed to do, only to be sidetracked in a different direction. Actually starting this post is a big step forward. Maybe now I will be able to make some progress.

My tasks include ditching the shame/blame on me for Houston. It’s forgiven. Now I absolutely must forgive myself. All of myselves. I need to overcome or override the subtle messages that I am being punished by God so that once again I can embrace all He wants for and from me. His grace has been sufficient for much tougher challenges, and it will be enough for this one too.

I also need to do some significant writing for the book about my years married to first husband. Perhaps I feel guilty for that as well. It plays the old “I’m worthless” tune and I run away from it as fast as I can, The fact is, I’m an awesome complex creation of the almighty God – not bragging…I know very well that God did a masterpiece in everything and everyone He created. No exceptions.

Now I’ve done my self pep talk. It’s time to end this post and get on with writing for the book.

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A Foretaste Continued…

Posted on October 4, 2016 by

This time I will copy/paste the journal entry I started to write about last night. So here it is, and then I will write about it –
Bullet Points:
. Counseling w/ Larry – don’t try to be creative. Just let yourself feel it and write what you feel (not word for word but that idea)
Not feeling depressed. Depression is the absence of feeling anything. What I am experiencing is legitimate grief/sorrow/loss. Instead of increasing the antidepressants I’m taking, I need to increase the anti-ADHD medicine to help me focus on my sorrow at times when I can express it and set it aside when I need to. Giving expression (words and/or pictures)to the things I am grieving will make it possible for me to experience it and then let it go so that it doesn’t need to be pressing in on me all the time.
Let yourself experience the grief and sorrow instead of trying to write about it. Just write whatever comes to mind in the midst of it – a word, phrase, or image; and you will discover that what flows out of you brings relief.
Those words hit me like a blow to the gut –that’s what we used to do before Houston. If experiences could be portrayed as weather, Houston would be a cyclone, hurricane, and tornado all mixed together. Many times we have attempted to describe the overwhelming torment that we experienced there but over time we have come to sum up the totality of it in one word – Houston….
– We have been trying to heal from a deep depression for a few years now. Our healing journey began many years earlier than that, but this depression was so intense that it merits focused effort on its own.. We have made tremendous progress – much healing has occurred. Now I feel the desire, even a need, to write it down; but I find what I write to fall far short of a true representation of what we have experienced. This struggle was the focus of our most recent counseling session.
– Even what I’m writing now is insufficient. It’s all much more complex than that. To be more accurate, others of me have made tremendous progress while I have remained almost entirely in the background, overridden with guilt and shame. Houston was really my fault. My people have shared the burden of healing. Each one has faithfully taken turns expressing the torment that the memories of Houston bring. (emphasis added to refer back to)
– – Complex trauma experiences didn’t begin with Houston. For me and my people, attempting to make sense out of life began at about 11 years of age. The reasons we came about, and the reasons we started out from the beginning as a plural, are deep and complex. In fact, in the earlier years of our healing journey we acquired the nick name of “Plex” because life for me/us and with me/us was best summed up as complex.
– -(back to the focus of the counseling session) It’s been nearly a year since my healing journey came to a bend in the road. Over the years we have struggled with sleep patterns, but for the past year or so we have required excessive amounts of sleep. Some days we just spent hours laying immobile but conscious, but most days we actually slept soundly both day and night. My psychiatrist and therapists have theorized about why this has been the case, and we have attempted to use both psychotherapy and medications to alter my experience with some success but still I sleep excessively for days on end and attempts to force myself to do otherwise were either unproductive or decidedly undesirable. For the most part I am being encouraged to take each day as it comes and not be overly concerned about the reasons for extra need for sleep. Over recent months it has varied between being awake but immobile interspersed with sound sleeping throughout the day or alternatively being awake long enough for a quick meal and taking medications and the rest of the time sleeping soundly.
[Getting way off track – back to bullet points]
– Counseling advice/suggestion to express thoughts and feelings (grief/sorrow) through poetry or art. “Just let it flow out of my hands” write down descriptions/illustrations that come to mind.
– Others have done healing work and I feel the benefit of it but still I struggle – like logs being jammed up as they attempt to float down the river.
– Been trying to write about my origins and my memories of life from the times I was much more active and “out” – before Houston. That’s what have been jammed up. Trying to write for the book. So much to write and feel inadequate for the task.
– Today –so discouraging to get to church and then have to come back home without worship. Cliff brought back bulletin and the focus was on the blessing of being one body and worshiping together.
– Tonight Cliff was off for his weekly movie night with a friend and I was left alone and feeling lonely and sad. Picked up Guide Post and read, “True Stories of Hope & Inspiration”. First article that caught my attention was about a woman saying goodbye to her beloved cat. It had a picture of a woman’s legs crossed at the ankle. The shadow was a silhouette of a cat. I was reminded again of the experiences we had prior to Houston of writing or drawing and having it just flow out of my hands as if someone else was in control of them. Only after completing the thoughts or images were on the paper did I notice the hidden impressions – the protective ribs that kept the small bird safe in the midst of the storm or the cupped hands hidden in the rocks just below the place where the Shepherd was carrying the feeble lamb up a sharp and dangerous precipice. I felt the pang of sharp longing as I reflected back on those days of years ago. As I dwelled on these memories for a while. I let myself scan through more pages of the Guide Post, and another story caught my eye. This one was entitled, “More Than a Hunch” by a man who found a missing 3-year-old boy after he prayed and asked God to guide him. The article ended this way, “I’ve learned how to listen to God wherever I can, in the forest, at work, in my car. And I’ve seen how he always hears. His answer can be a whisper in your ear, an urge to change direction, a nudge of guidance. And it can help you see what you should have seen, what plenty of others missed, what was right there in broad daylight.”
As I read these words I was reminded of times many years before Houston when I was driving home after taking care of young children in the nursery of a church. I was singing faith songs to myself – something I used to do frequently, when I felt a nudge to take a turn down a road away from home. I asked God if He was prompting me to make that turn and felt more than heard the answer. I kept praying as I drove down one road, then turned down another one. I had no idea where I was going but I kept following the promptings until I pulled up in front of a small store. I got out of the car and went into the store, still clueless as to what I was looking for or why I was there. I browsed until my eyes landed on them –real butterfly wings with paper bodies. They were more perfect than anything I could have thought of. I was engaged to a man I thought would be my forever love, and butterflies held a special meaning for us in our blossoming relationship, so we wanted to use them as a theme for our wedding. I needed to make the invitations and these butterflies were the absolute perfect thing to put on them. At the time it was a powerful reassurance from my Heavenly Father that He was guiding me and watching care over me, even attending to the tiny details of our wedding plans. Reflecting back on those days I realized God had been leading and guiding us in those dark and grief-filled days, too. I contemplated how God was using the Guide Post articles to speak to me even in these moments. The lesson for me in this story was to see through the mist and rugged terrain that had hid the boy from the view of the people searching for him- in my life it was my sorrow and grief that obstructed my view, preventing me from feeling God’s guiding nudges and hearing His prompting whispers. God had not been silenced by Houston, and He would not be far from me even now in my recovery. This new realization blanketed me with cozy comforting reassurances.
[end of copy/paste]

Tomorrow I will start dissecting the emphasized parts. Enough for tonight.

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A Foretaste of Things to Come…Almost

Posted on October 3, 2016 by

It’s early morning hours and I am finally finding myself able to focus on…me. I’ve been dodging it now for days, not wanting to get back into the mode of healing again. It hurts so hard. I kept it under control while in session with Lori when I saw her a few weeks ago – at least I think it was that long ago. Now I am coming up on another session and realizing I have really squandered the time and opportunities, avoiding getting back into that space I need to be in. I feel like Dr. Do Little’s push-me-pull-you: drawing near to the healing I need to do and fleeing from it at the same time. I left Lori’s office feeling determined to do the work. Every time I approached the computer I detoured to playing games. Then I just avoided the computer all together. Now, finally, here I am…and, yup, it still hurts.
Tonight, when I finally got focused on picking up the pieces and moving forward, I stumbled upon an unfinished journal entry that I wrote the last time I was out. It was years ago chronologically, but for me it catapulted me right back to where I was back then. I couldn’t face what I needed to do toward healing at the time, so others have again done their healing work and once again I am remaining so very, very broken. I wonder what it will take to give me the courage to face what I have to face, do what I have to do, so life can move forward.
When I started typing this it was supposed to be a brief introduction to the journal entry with the intention of pasting it in to this post. It has turned into a full post of it’s own; so I guess I will just post this much for tonight and leave the rest for another day when I am brave enough to finish it.

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Fatherly Free Fall

Posted on September 2, 2016 by

I still feel like I’m in a free fall with the issues with my dad. I’m Plex – the rebel. I was created out of a tenacious rebellion struggling for survival. I don’t know how to be any different.

I got to be the one who talked with the counselor this week. He has amazing insights. He raised the possibility that my dad could be so extremely passive because I carried his anger for him. That was a new thought. It almost makes me mad again. Seems like everyone else (of me) is working through this, but I’m stumped.

If I had a dollar for every time I yelled, “Hypocrite” at my dad during my earlier years (early teens through older teen) I’d be a rich lady; but in my heart of hearts I felt lower than dirt that I said it. In truth my dad was a hero and no matter how hard I tried to be as good as he was, I never got up to his shoe laces he was so high and better than me. Taking him off that pedestal strikes fear to my bones. If he wasn’t really as great as I thought, does that mean I am even that much lower or does that mean we are on level ground?

And here’s the kicker – the very areas of his life that I held in highest regard are the very same areas where I’m now being challenged to see as negatives, so does that make me stupid or what? It sure makes me feel very vulnerable.

So it goes like this – or at least this is what I’m hearing: Dad was able to maintain his cool so well because he put all his anger in me, like I carried it for him. I’m not sure I can buy that, but that is what is being suggested as a possibility. And the thing is, it resonates in my heart that it just might be true.

I love, love, LOVE my dad. He’s been my hero my entire life. When I was hospitalized and diagnosed with MPD, my dad sent a letter to my psychiatrist telling him everything he could think of that he did which might have contributed to me being a multiple. I know this because my doctor didn’t believe in keeping secrets from his patients so he read the letter to me. My dad doesn’t understand the multiplicity, but his heart has been to help.

I want to die well with him. That is a term my therapist uses to describe the ability to be at peace with the relationship and with the person who is dying even if they were not able to be all you needed them to be for you during their life. I want that with my dad. Seeing him for who he really is is an important part of that.

It’s late and I need to stop and go to bed. I know I won’t be able to settle this tonight or any night very soon.

God, please, oh please, help me. Amen

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Hard Times for People with DID

Posted on July 27, 2016 by

I have been going through files on my computer trying to find where I had been writing my book. I have many files designated for use in the book, but so far I haven’t been able to find the actual book in progress. In my efforts to find my book entries I have read many documents I have written over the years, and some of them are still painful to read, many are unfinished, and even more need to be sorted and sequenced for fitting into the book format. Here is one that I just read today. I don’t know how long ago I wrote it, but it strikes me as a good thing to do as an introduction for the book:

These are hard times for people with a DID diagnosis; and even harder times for those who suffer from this condition but are undiagnosed or wrongly diagnosed. My heart goes out to all of these, and I dearly want to minister hope and grace to them.

I am not a professional. I can’t diagnose or treat anyone. What I can do is share my experiences, starting before mental health treatment of any sort and continuing through today, in hopes that both professionals who encounter DIDs in their offices and people who struggle with extreme dissociation in themselves or in a loved one can find hope and encouragement in these pages. I hope that together we can learn to treat DIDs with dignity and respect for their creative survival skills, and help them to see their life struggles as the unique and special gift that God has given them. I sincerely hope and pray that they find new perspective and courage to face life’s struggles.

I know the challenges of self-doubt and self-rejection that plague individuals with DID. The truth about the past and present can be very difficult to accept and embrace.

To begin with, I want to share words from the Bible that hopefully will speak comfort and encouragement to the hearts of everyone who reads these pages, but most especially those who have experienced dissociation to a significant degree. I’m quoting from an Amplified Version of the Bible. The whole chapter is well worth reading and meditating on; but I will restrict my quote to just parts of this wonderful chapter of Psalms. Psalms 139: 1-4; 13-16
“O LORD, You have searched me [thoroughly] and have known me. You know my downsitting and my uprising; You understand my thought afar off. You sift and search out my path and my lying down, and You are acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue [still unuttered], but, behold, O Lord, You know it altogether… For You did form my inward parts; You did knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will confess and praise You for You are fearful and wonderful and for the awful wonder of my birth! Wonderful are Your works, and that my inner self knows right well. My frame was not hidden from You when I was being formed in secret [and] intricately and curiously wrought [as if embroidered with various colors] in the depths of the earth [a region of darkness and mystery]. Your eyes saw my unformed substance, and in Your book all the day [of my life] were written before ever they took shape, when as yet there was none of them.”

When I read this passage I understand it to be talking about my natural birth, but also the “birth” of each personality who was born out of trauma in a dark and mysterious place. I believe God was there even when it seemed like there was no one there to help me; and that He has/had a purpose for the creation of each personality. He has formed each one of us, and has build into each one of us the characteristics each one of us needed to accomplish the tasks appointed to him/her.

There is another passage of Scripture that equally speaks hope and courage into my soul, and I hope it will do the same for you. I take the liberty to insert my name/s into the passage to personalize it, and I invite you to do the same.
Isaiah 43: 1-4 (Amplified Version) “But now [in spite of past judgments for Israel’s sins], thus says the Lord, He Who created you, O Jacob, and He Who formed you, O Israel: Fear not, for I have redeemed you [ransomed you by paying a price instead of leaving you captives]; I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you, and through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned or scorched, nor will the flame kindle upon you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I give Egypt [to the Babylonians] for your ransom, Ethiopia and Seba [a province of Ethiopia] in exchange [for your release]. Because you are precious in My sight and honored, and because I love you, I will give men in return for you and peoples in exchange for you life.”
(It might help to understand that Israel was the name given to Jacob by God when God chose him to be the line through which He would keep His promises to Abraham. When I substitute my name into the passage, I insert the name given to me at birth for Israel and my nickname for Jacob. Any name of a personality can be inserted into this passage. Each one has been chosen by God for a special purpose.

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Still Confused About Dad

Posted on July 25, 2016 by

It’s hard to know what to write. There is a conflict within my own head about what codependent really means or how it applies to my dad. He is definitely in some unhealthy relationships in which he plays a significant role. He doesn’t set healthy boundaries. However, his relationship with my mother was healthy (I think), and with his second wife as well. When I try to talk about things he is uncomfortable with, he dodges the topics and won’t give me straight answers. I guess that indicates he can set limits when he really wants to.

The issue of forgiveness keeps coming up for me – like an excuse to avoid an unbiased view of my dad. It goes like this: “It doesn’t really matter whether or not Dad is codependent or has unhealthy relationships because in the end I have to forgive him for his shortcomings. After all, Jesus was very clear about how critical it is to forgive and warned us that we will be held accountable to the same standard we hold other people to.” But just as that is going through my head I am objecting. What does forgiveness have to do with codependent or unhealthy relationships? It’s very exhausting to think about.

I don’t have another counseling session for two more weeks. This week no one was available and next week our family will be camping together. I’ll just have to keep working on this on my own.

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Struggling Onward

Posted on July 20, 2016 by

The changes in my meds are causing me to have severe migraines, so I’m in bed a lot. I’m trying to use the time to contemplate the new turn of events with my therapy. Sometimes I think I’m heading down the wrong trail – that maybe the view of my dad as codependent instead of a man of great service is too harsh and off the mark. I’ve encountered many people who have ego’s bigger than life and do service to others just to get praise, and my dad is not like that. His heart is for the people he serves, and he tries to gently lead them to make better life choices. On the other hand, if you focus on what brings him pleasure and where he finds identity, it is in service. There have been relationships that were unhealthy, still are in some cases. Some very mentally unhealthy people attach to him and he is willing to devote a huge amount of his time talking to them and helping them out in their lives. He doesn’t coddle them or tell them they are doing right when they really aren’t, but he doesn’t set healthy boundaries that would drive them away.

I’m still trying to figure this out. Will update again soon.

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Continuing to Sort through…

Posted on July 18, 2016 by

Everything is still so very heavy. My body feels like a lead weight that I have to drag behind me wherever I go. It’s been a few days now, and I’m still not sure I’ve really slept at all except for the extremely early morning hours…maybe or maybe not. I collapse into bed but the minute I attempt to relax my body for some rest and restoration, my mind clicks into overdrive. Eventually my body aches reach an extreme pitch and I just have to get up and try to distract myself, but I’m still physically and emotionally exhausted.

I have managed to sort a few things out – at least I think I have. I talked to another daughter today, speaking in more general terms rather than specifics. The conversation was very affirming and gave me more thoughts to take into consideration. So this is what I have so far:

– The issue is not about whether or not my parents loved me; but more that they were not the heroes I believed them to be. I have always believed that the reason I became a multiple was (in a nut shell) that my parents were so extremely good most of the time and in most ways, but there were certain times and circumstances when they blew it big time, and it was the polar extremes that confused me. In so many ways my parents have been giants in my eyes, far above anything I could ever be. That was especially true of their Spiritual lives. I’ve spent a life time trying to be as good as them, knowing that I would always fall short. Through years of therapy I have learned to see some of the ways in which they failed me and my siblings, recognizing specific shortcomings but marginalizing them in comparison to the loving, good things they did. I could look at the ways they let me/us down so long as it was through the lens of what truly good people they really were. I had them on very high pedestals.

Now the pedestals are gone. It’s not just that my parents have fallen off the pedestals – the pedestals are rubble. In truth they never really existed except in my own mind. Through the years when I have spoken of my parents on their pedestals and tried to give examples of how very good they really were, and when therapists tried to suggest that maybe they really weren’t as wonderful as I made them out to be, I rejected that possibility. I felt and often said that they only questioned it because they didn’t really know my parents. If they really knew them, they would know how right I was to honor them in this way and to this extreme.

– When my daughter used the words “codependent in many relationships” to describe her view of them, and added to that an accusation of “very faulty faith beliefs”, I was able to see the truth in what she was saying. Many of the things I previously held as evidence that they were super parents I now see as dysfunctional. It hurts more than words can describe. It turns my world upside-down and it’s hard to know how to go on. I had to look up the word “codependent” to make sure I was using it correctly. It doesn’t fit completely, but it does ring true in many ways.

-Even as I say these things, as I have been allowing these thoughts to resonate in my mind, I want to scream out “forgiven!!” against them. But today while I was in bed trying to rest and not being able to turn my thoughts off, I realized that this was not really the issue either. Before someone can be forgiven for something, there has to first be a reckoning that an offense has been committed. Furthermore, my parents didn’t put themselves on a pedestal, I did that. Their actions and attitudes were faulty because they were deeply injured people struggling to know how to get through their own pain. They did love us and wanted what they believed to be right and good for my siblings and me. They were not equipped to help me with my struggles because they didn’t know how to get through their own struggles. They were injured, not evil – deeply, deeply injured.

I think I understand better what my therapist means by “dying well”. She has tried to help me grasp it many times, but it has always evaded me. Dad can die now and I won’t be left desperately needing more from him than he is able to give. I recognize his limitations, so I don’t expect too much.

In so far as my dad having faulty spiritual beliefs, that’s a mixed bag of it’s own. Dad has spent countless hours in personal Bible study, and countless more reading books about our faith. Much of what he comes away with is good, sound faith. But there have been times when he embraced Bible interpretation presented by various “professionals” expounding on “correct interpretation of Scripture” that missed the mark dramatically. So did I. Now I’m left pondering how I need to proceed differently. But that will have to be another “to be continued” posts. For now this is enough.

–

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