Scattered pieces

It’s become obvious that I’ve been withdrawing from everything lately.  It always starts slowly… I’ll sit at my desk, rather than go out with the others for breaks at work; I’ll leave the car out with the intention of going to take photos, but end up putting it away a few hours later because I’m “too tired” or it’s now “too dark” to take photos.  I wasn’t really sure why I’ve been withdrawing, or rather, which particular stressor was causing the withdrawal.  I only knew that is was happening.  Yesterday, I moved one step closer to eliminating one stressor – the dissolution of my marriage.  The laws in New Zealand require you to have been separated from your partner for two years before you can dissolve the marriage (get a divorce).  That milestone was up on 14 February of this year.  So we took the papers to the Family Court to start the official process… it was an interesting trip which caused the activation of ones that hadn’t been present for quite some time.

We took two hours off work to take the papers to court, thinking that would be plenty of time for the fairly simple matter of handing over some papers and paying a fee… how wrong was I!

It started off well… we went into the Family Court reception and were served by the nice lady who took our Protection Order application nearly two years ago.  She checked the forms, notarized them where it was appropriate and double checked that none of our personal details appeared on the forms to protect us from any contact from the husband.  Then we asked some seemingly innocent questions about what would happen next… in particular asking about how he was to be notified of the dissolution when we didn’t know where he lived…  This is where the smooth operation came to a screaming halt.

“What do you mean you don’t know where he lives?”  The slightly stunned clerk asked…
“Well, we actively try to avoid knowing anything about him because of the Protection Order.”
“So, what’s this address here…” as she points to the address we’ve listed.
“That’s his lawyers address.”  We reply, thinking it makes perfect sense to serve the papers to his lawyer.
“You can’t serve the papers to his lawyer, it has to be him in person.”
“But… I have no idea where he is.”
“You need to try and find him.”

At this point, the clerk confers with another worker about the situation and asks what my options are…  Meanwhile we’re dissociating, spinning and trying to keep it together despite the internal chaos… we can’t find him… don’t make us have to find him… don’t make us talk to him or his family again…

After a rather convoluted discussion, the clerk comes back to tell us that we have to try and find him through any means necessary; but if we can’t, we can fill in another form to say that the papers can be served on his parents…  But we still need someone to serve them… Someone over 18 to serve the papers to them in person…  Someone would have to go to his parents house, knock on the door and give the papers to them…

This news brought another round of dissociation and internal noise… we can’t go to the witch’s house… she hates us… she’ll yell at us… please don’t make us!

Thankfully another woman yelled out that we could pay someone from the court where they live to serve the papers on our behalf…

This just left the problem of trying to find him!  So off to the public library we went, looking for electoral roles…  We walked there thinking it would be quicker than taking the car, but on the way there was all sorts of activation by different parts… Can we buy a toy?  Oh look, a sale!  Can we go see that movie?  That’s a pretty dress. The desire to get sidetracked was immense… there was so much panic about trying to find the husband.  With each comment, suggestion or pull, M tried to assure each one that we would go back later, but that we really needed to find the husband to make us all safe.

We found that the husband hadn’t changed his details official details from when he lived with us.  We tried telephone directories and the Internet, but couldn’t find him.

There was another round of attempted distractions on the way back to court, but M deflected each one.  When we returned to court, we filled in even more paperwork to say that we’d tried to find the husband.  All the while, the internal noise was getting louder and louder.

It was only when we were driving away that the noise quietened.  So much so, that by the time we got to a toy store, to keep the promise of buying something later, all the young ones had gone quiet.

On the surface, I can see the noise and chaos was an indication of our stress about the situation.  But, I think it goes deeper than that.  It was about our fear of having to do anything to do with him, fearing possibly having to see him again, fear that he will react when he gets the papers…  It’s also about dissolving the marriage, and therefore admitting we made a mistake in getting married… it’s an indication of our failure.

I still feel the anxiety, disconnection and withdrawal from life… I don’t quite know how to ease that.  I’ve tried making an appointment with my psychiatrist to get a review of my medication, but need ACC approval and funding before I can go – which means it could be several months before I get in to see him.  This week, I’m wanting to quit therapy…  I cancelled Jo and have come close to cancelling Liz several times.  Everything about therapy annoys me at the moment – trying to talk, all of Liz’s responses, her making us draw when we retreat and can’t talk…

We found this photo called Just Red by Burning Image… it’s a good representation of how we’re feeling…

A couple of weeks ago, when we were heading into the anniversary surrounding the last attack by the now ex-husband; Liz asked me if I missed him, and if I wanted him back in my life.  As an adult, I immediately said “No, I don’t want anything more to do with him”.  If you look at it from a dispassionate, adult point of view, it makes total sense to want nothing to do with him – he was sexually, physically and psychologically abusive.  It’s not a good thing to be abused, so therefore it’s not good to be in that relationship as it existed.  This makes intellectual, and common sense!

Today, I realised the answer isn’t that simple.  The dynamics surrounding being a battered partner come into play – he didn’t hurt me THAT badly… it was only when I did something wrong… it was really all my own fault… other people said we picked on him…  Suddenly the waters start to get muddied.  Parts of me excused, allowed and encouraged his abuse.  There was a comfort in the pain he inflicted, it was familiar to us and therefore gave a sense of certainty about what to expect.  He was also very good at inflicting pain… he knew the right insult to throw, when to be nice, when to inflict the worst of the sexual abuse.  In this respect, the relationship was a perfect storm.

He was immature in many ways, and that immaturity showed through in ways that were unexpected.  He could be incredibly gentle with the very young ones.  He could also make us laugh -  I really miss laughing with someone.  So it wasn’t all bad…  This all adds to the feeling that the relationship is being blown out of proportion…

But today, I realised what I really miss, is his violence.  He was a dangerous man – over six foot tall, solid build and trained as a security guard.  His violent rages could be spectacular – holes were punched in doors, walls and objects.  His level of sexual perversion meant that I was often re-creating abuse from the past.  But most importantly, he tried to kill me!  He put his hands around my neck and squeezed until I couldn’t breathe.  He had a power over our life that some of us miss.  We’ve failed at committing suicide several times, but he came close to killing us… he could take that suicidal failure out of our control…  He could kill us… This is what some of us are missing – the ability to have the choice about whether we are alive or dead taken out of our hands.  This is also what we were looking for with some of our self-injury… that dangerous situation where things will get out of control, and we’ll be killed.

We’ve constantly struggled with suicidal ideation, but I never realised the depth of the feelings.  We don’t want the ex-husband back to work on a happy marriage, we want him back to kill us.

This makes me wonder how often we goaded him on… how often we started the arguments… how often we poked at him, knowing it would cause a reaction…  Even after the last attack, I’m aware that Frank came forward to goad the ex-husband – “Come on, come on, pick on someone your own size”.  Frank was slapping at the ex-husband while saying this… I’m not sure if he was defending us, or trying to continue the fight.

I’m not sure where I go with this realisation.  I consider it serious and have contacted Liz to let her know what is happening.  But really, what the heck do I do with this?  Is my wish for death so great that I will try everything possible to ensure I succeed?  Do I wish for a miserable existence, with an abusive man?  If this is the case, I know there are many men who would be willing to abuse me…

Sometimes I shake my head with the realisation of how screwed up I am…

Dear young one,

First of all, you are young.  You are not a little adult, you are a young girl…  This alone should explain so much to you, but it won’t because I know you are fighting and struggling to make sense of the world you find yourself in.  You are strong, brave and stubborn…  You take on so much of the world around you, that it is hard to make you out as an individual identity.  But, please remember that you are a young girl…

I sense that you need to hear the words “I forgive you”, but there is nothing to forgive you for.  You did an amazing job holding it all together when those around you were hurting you and themselves.  I’m so sorry that you had to take on this burden of abuse.  This burden had nothing to do with how pretty, thin, attractive or loud you were…  there are no reasons why… there are excuses, but no reasons.  I’m not sure what will ease your sense of guilt and ownership over the abuse… I could quote you research about alcoholic fathers, absentee mothers, sibling rivalry and a society built around ignoring the child as an individual with rights, but I know that you will look for excuses within that research… You will look for any proof that the abuse was, and is, your fault.  So I won’t hand you that information to confuse you further, instead I would like to do what should have happened long ago… get down to your eye level, look you straight in the eye and say “It wasn’t your fault”.  You hold no blame for what happened, they were events done to you, not by you.  Even the events where you are sure you were the instigator, you weren’t.  You were trying to find new ways to protect yourself and ease the burden.

I stand in awe of what you accomplished through all of the pain of what was happening to you.  Do you know that?  I don’t know how you did it.  You have a strength I cannot fathom.  The amount of times you picked yourself up and kept on going… the amount of times you looked towards the pain and kept on going.  I’m so proud to consider that you are what I have come from.  You excelled in all that you tried – I have the reports which tell of your intelligence, I’m told you moved with grace and poise on the dance floor and you played above your grade in sports you enjoyed.  I know you consider these accomplishments nothing, and I wish you could tell them with pride.  But what really amazes me, is that you defended those around you whom you thought were being picked on.  Your sense of social justice remained intact, despite all of what happened to you.  Not only did it remain intact, but you actively found ways to defend and help those who were being victimised.  You couldn’t succeed all the time, but you tried… and kept on trying no matter what.

I’m not sure that I will ever understand what happened to you.  Looking back, I don’t know what advice I could give you that would ease your burden.  I could say “don’t trust people”, but then I wonder if you didn’t have some form of trust, whether you would still hold to that sense of social justice?  I could tell you not to go near the kindergarten playground, or near that woodshed… but I know that this wouldn’t solve the problems you faced.  I want to protect you from the pain you faced, but I know I am helpless to do so.  My only hope now, is to help you heal.  I’m not sure how to do this, and in this I need your help.  I need to know what you need, and when you need it.  I try my best to help you heal, but I know I make mistakes.  I hope you forgive these errors… I know this is asking a lot of you, especially when so many people have let you down in the past, but I again need you to be strong.  This is a different strength, this isn’t about putting up with more pain… this is about telling me when it hurts, telling me when you are scared, telling me when you need help.  We all need help young one, but it takes strength to ask and receive that help…

Thank you for all you have done for me, young one.  You have given me so many gifts, it is now my turn to return some of those gifts, if you will let me.  You will notice that I don’t mention the word “love”… I avoid using this word as we all know that I don’t understand the concept… instead, please understand that I respect and admire you.  I couldn’t have made it this far without you…

Yours sincerely,
M

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Now playing: Anna Nalick – Breathe
via FoxyTunes

I think I’ve mentioned here before that we have a young one called Aimee who is 9, happy and illiterate.  Similar to S being a sexual being, I’d pigeon-holed Aimee in this way, quite forgetting all the other things she does for us.  Quite often in therapy, if we’re worried about saying something that is a little scary, we’ll ask Aimee to say it for us – things like we’re scared of talking about food, etc.  She’s also incredibly happy, no matter what is happening.  When things are too out of control, she’s often nowhere to be found, but when we’re tired beyond belief, she will often be there to help us through.  To put it bluntly, she’s incredible…  If there’s any aspect of the different ones that we’d like to have consistent access to, it’s Aimee’s optimism.

Over the years, Aimee has learned that she can communicate with people online if she gets one of the others to read and write for her.  Usually this job was Sophie’s, but recently W was doing the interpreting for Aimee.  What we’ve noticed, is that with W doing the reading and writing, suddenly Aimee seems to be able to do more reading and writing herself.  It’s not like she’s gone to school and suddenly learned how to read, but rather some of W’s literacy seems to have leaked over to Aimee.  It’s the first tangible sign of healing and growth that I have seen within the system…  I know this may sound silly, but yesterday was a very long day filled with triggers and sharing of secrets, so Aimee suddenly being able to read and write a little bit is huge.

I know that this should be a further lesson in why I shouldn’t stereotype or pigeon-hole any part within the system.  I suppose I get caught up in wanting them to be one- or two-dimensional and forget that some of the different ones are quite complex personalities.  Recent blog reading would indicate that it would be easier to heal if the different ones weren’t so complex, but even the act of one part becoming seemingly more complex has given me hope… Aimee is becoming less extreme in her personality, so maybe that means we will all move toward being more balanced and co-operative…

Reading and writing signify intelligence, high scholarly expectations and being serious…  This is why I think Aimee was never able to read or write, those skills don’t fit with her role of being happy and carefree.  So if she is now reading and writing, but still happy, her personality is becoming more complete and rounded.  Whether this means she will be integrated, or continue to exist as a separate one within the system, I don’t know.  But I see it as an important step in our healing process…

I’m writing this from a respite care house :) Respite care is a very odd experience. I’m in a normal house on a normal street with a “normal family”. I’ve just had the most surreal evening meal with this family… They blessed the food (mild trigger, but nothing too bad), ate, talked and joked. There were no undercurrents, no tension, no unspoken hostility… It was very, very odd. I haven’t experienced that in my adult life ever. I’ve never witnessed a family who loved and joked without malice. I still don’t know what to make of it all.

My room is simple and comforting. I’m the only “client” here, and they have a capacity of three clients at any one time. There are no locks on any of the internal doors – including the bathroom, which is a little triggering, but it still feels safe! I’ve felt welcomed into the home without reservation. They don’t care about my diagnosis or what has led me here. There is just warm comforting acceptance. They’re not the Crisis Team trying to therapise me, they’re just a normal family who accept strangers into their house with basic guidelines in place.

There was a visitor for dinner who has mental health issues and is going through the DBT program, she convinced me that the program, as delivered here, wouldn’t suit me. It was interesting to talk to her though. It sounds like her world fell apart and she is now struggling on an invalids benefit. I can see how that could so easily have been me. But instead my current level of dissociation keeps me on a different level of functioning.

So I am safe! I’m writing this from my iPhone as my computer access is non-existent (as is access to a spell checker *sigh*). I’m trying not to worry about the silly things, like my crops in FarmVille and Farm Town dying while I’m here. But the little things will get to me every now and again. I’ve been told that I can stay as long as I need to get myself back to ground; as I’m somewhere out Pluto way at the moment, that could take awhile.

On a random note… Our door has a painting of Tigger on it, which pleases Aimee immensely :)

M is not particularly good at communicating, while she may have a solid reason for any decision, this is often no communicated well to the rest of us.  So when she was reluctant to call the crisis team, I thought she was blocking our attempts to achieve safety, or possibly protecting the young ones in her care from the trigger of going to hospital.  I was wrong.  Her greatest fear was realised, the crisis team can’t do anything to help us stay safe.  She wasn’t worried about the respite care or the hospital, she’d prepared her young ones for that; she was worried about them not being able to do anything.  In some respects, what happened was worse – we had several phone conversations with a very nice and understanding crisis nurse who explained about coping mechanisms and grounding techniques, but informed us that there were no respite beds available.  After referring to our notes and talking to us for over half an hour, she assured us that the nearly full local psychiatric ward wasn’t the right place for us.  Instead she encouraged us to continue with our coping mechanisms and taking it a day at a time.

It was the worst case scenario, the crisis team were trying their best, but don’t have the resources to help us.  The were polite, friendly and called back twice to check on us, and to try reassure us that we can do this.  It was devastating.  This was M’s biggest fear… we need safety and we can’t get it.  We’ve now officially tried all of our options.  There is nowhere else to turn.  Sometimes when we’ve called the crisis team, the service has been so bad that it’s kicked us into a release of anger that has driven us through the suicidal ideation and out the other side.  It’s acted like a release on the pressure valve.  We couldn’t even get that today… the nurse was so polite and trying to suggest ways to get appropriate boundaries in place with the mother etc.

In many ways our suicide attempts have appeared impulsive… there’s been a final trigger that has pushed us over the edge.  But the plans are well thought out, just waiting for that final trigger.  This is what we fear may happen again.  In many ways we’re calm and functional – when we told the mother we were calling the crisis team she asked when things had got bad again, we explained that they’d never been good.  I know this could be an indication that the mother has no clue as to our true level of functioning, rather than any indication of how we appear to be coping, but it gives a hint as to how we appear to the world.  The crisis nurse could see through the veneer, she said we sounded in trouble, she just couldn’t do anything about it.

When the crisis nurse confirmed that there would be no assessment and there were no places, we were in tears.  We were crying because we gave up on getting help.  We know that no one can do this work for us, but we’d really like some help to get us through the rough patches…

It’s now Christmas Day in New Zealand – 2.30am on Christmas Day to be exact.  Aimee desperately wants to wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a safe holiday.

We know that this time of year can bring pain to survivors of abuse and those from dysfunctional families… Our hope is that those painful memories are eased and positive traditions are created.

Take care of you and yours this holiday season,
CG

Last night, one of the lives that one of us leads, intruded on our normal functioning.  This made us wonder how many lives we lead and what impact this has.  Everyone talks about having different roles or persona’s they present to the world, e.g. how you act and appear at work is possibly different from how you would act at a dinner party on a Saturday night.  It appears as if this sort of thing is usual for the singleton population.  As someone who experiences dissociation, I’ve often wondered whether my experiences are all that different from this sort of usual occurrence.  That is, until the way the two different parts run their life collide, then it becomes obvious that we may not fit “usual”.

As a singleton with various aspects of one personality, there seems to be some consistency in the way you interact with the world – that is, your ethics, morals and way of viewing the world don’t change significantly.  There might be more slippage in the way some things are viewed, but overall you are consistent.  Whereas I experience what I would consider more of a sliding scale, especially when it comes to morals and our way of viewing the world.  Our ethics seem fairly consistent – a desire not to intentionally harm others is one common denominator; but our morals especially, seem to be more variable.  This seems to contradict some of the research I have read where morals and ethics are consistent across the dissociative system – if one part performs an action then it is something that the rest of the system is capable of.  So, I as CG are capable of my usual shyness as well as Sophie’s outgoing happiness and S’s overt sexuality.  I’m also capable of the actions that occur from the way those parts view the world.  I struggle with this concept greatly…  Sophie’s outgoing happiness and innocence is a direct contrast to S’s overt sexuality; how can these be morally consistent?  Each part has their own group of contacts online and when there is a collision between these groups, the differences become obvious.  The other night, we were chatting online with a friend, during the chat we received a message for S from one of her online contacts.  The confusion and resulting anxiety lead to a dissociative switch with S coming forward to try and get rid of the person we were talking to so she could talk to her contact.

It is rare for all of us to respect or consider anyone a friend, but there are a few that S doesn’t feel the need to control, manipulate or please.  Does this mean that we are morally consistent?  Or, does it mean that S is healing and learning that controlling people isn’t always necessary?  I’m not sure of the answers.  What’s interesting, is that it’s our male friends that she is more likely to have contact with, but yet she doesn’t fall into the old patterns of sexual manipulation.  I’m not really sure if she considers them friends, authority figures or objects to be studied out of curiosity.  But it’s a marked contrast to our female friends, whom she expresses no interest in talking to.  Possibly because in some respects the abuse we were subjected to by women was physical as well as sexual and psychological, so there is a different dynamic going on.

I’ll take this to Liz on Tuesday and see what she thinks…  I’m not sure that I’m fully grasping the difference between a singletons presentation of different persona’s, and someone with DID presenting with different dissociative parts.

—————-
Now playing: U2 – Running to Stand Still
via FoxyTunes

As a warning, this might not be one of my most rational entries – and there have been some pretty irrational ones over the past year…

Today we went to see Liz for our scheduled appointment.  It was a monumental disaster.  We had to talk about a report for ACC to ensure we continue to receive funding (yes, this funding seems to be a continual battle).  We were in protection mode, pretty much shut down with Sophie only able to look at the keys she was playing with in her hands.  We’re very aware that ACC want to see improvement – no matter how small.  But, we haven’t improved much and if we put that in the report, we would probably end up being sent for a psychiatric assessment.  We had this knowledge sitting in the back of our head and were trying to tailor our answers as a consequence.  Then Liz casually dropped a bombshell…

“We can’t have you functioning too low or out of control or they’ll refer you to mental health services for the DBT programme.”

This is one of our nightmares… being sent to DBT in New Zealand.

I know people are helped by that programme every day.  I know it helps with emotion regulation and mindfulness… I know it could potentially help me immensely.  BUT over here, there is no streaming or grouping according to functioning, you are placed in the first opening they have.  There aren’t any evening courses, so I’d end up having to take time off work.  This means that I could end up in a group which is incredibly low functioning and triggering for me.  I don’t cope well with groups, so I’d sit there like a stuffed dummy, avoiding the whole situation – I didn’t talk once during a Mindfulness course which lasted for six weeks.  What’s worse is that it will odds are trigger M to come forward to protect us, so we’d end up appearing saner than the therapists and be ticked off as “cured” very quickly.

Yes, I know this hasn’t happened and was just an idle comment by Liz… but with the changes in ACC policy, it’s a very real possibility.  I never thought I’d say it, but please let them decide that I need a psychiatric assessment.  Anything but DBT.

The flip side of this conversation, is that we now think that we’re too much for Liz to cope with and this is her way of introducing the idea of us moving on to someone else.  So the concept of testing her with our trust, went flying out the window.  Again, I know that she hasn’t said that she’s going anywhere…  It’s just our damaged perception of what happened.

Problem is, our damaged perception seems very real right now.