Scattered pieces

One of the hardest things that I’ve been asked to do in therapy, is imagine what my world would look like in the future when I’m “healed”… that magical point where I feel as if I determine how run my life is run. When you’re a survivor used to living moment to moment; have lived with abuse in one form or another nearly all your life; where chaos is the norm; and you find your mental health issues driving your every action… imagining a life of self-determination is difficult.  I’ve had few positive role models around me, so I have no real terms of reference for what “healthy” looks like.

So, when this months Carnival Against Childhood Abuse came out with the theme of Independence, I thought I’d challenge myself to think about what freedom (or independence) may look like.  As I’m making this challenge up, I’ve decided to go for a list of 5 things I’d like to see in a life of self-determination…

1. Free from abuse
This may sound obvious, but I have a proven history of being attracted to people who are abusive, either as friends or as partners.  So, establishing healthy relationships is a key aspect to my well-being.  This is tied to boundary, attachment and a whole raft of other issues; so I know it will take time and testing.  I’m taking baby steps with this through my online interactions…

Free from abuse, also means being free from self-injury in all of it’s forms…

2. Like who I am
I know that this should say “love” rather than “like”, but one step at a time :)
I’d like to feel comfortable in myself – my skills, abilities and who I am as a person.  To work through the shame, guilt, disgust, etc., to a point where I can look in a mirror or walk down the street with my head held high.  To not make unfair comparisons about myself, but instead, notice differences without judgement.  To value those differences in myself as much as I value them in others.

3. Trust
Trust in myself and those around me.  I realise that trust is heavily linked to points 1 and 2 above, but it’s such a big issue, I think it needs to be separated out.

I currently have little trust in my decision making… I can make decisions, but second guess myself all the time.  I’d like to get to a point where I can listen to the internal messages without fear, and act on those messages appropriately.  Usually my internal compass about people is fairly accurate, but I tend to drown it out with self-doubt.

I know that not everyone in this world can be trusted, but I’d like to be open to the possibility that some of them can be.

4. Enjoy life
I’d like to wake up in the morning, feeling positive about the day.  I realise that life will always have the natural flow of ups and downs; but I want to reach a point where I have the skills to help me ride out the negatives without it causing a downward spiral.

5. Be creative
More importantly, be creative without fear!

I think this is my main goal in life… to work towards a place where I’m not living in fear.

The inaugural edition of the Expressive Arts Carnival has been published.  Check it out at MindParts.

It’s interesting looking at the different submissions… they each tell a story about the submitters through the topic of choice, fonts, colours, arrangement of words etc.  Take a look and maybe think of submitting something yourself next time… I was scared of submitting something, but still managed it :)

“You sure know a lot about being dirty, bad and evil, don’t you?”

This statement came near the end of my time with the work place therapist (WPT) today.  To put this into context, we’d just been talking about safe internal places and stuffed animals…  We have two internal safe places and both are fairly barren.  WPT asked if there was anything that we wanted to take into the safe places… something like a stuffed toy perhaps?  A young ones immediate response was that stuffed toys weren’t allowed in the safe places.  You see, we are so dirty, disgusting and evil that if we touch a toy, it’s soiled and ruined.  She explained that we can go into the toy store, touch them to check how soft they are, purchase the one we want; but then it’s put on a chest of drawers or on our computer desk (with the price tag still on) and left to never be touched again – except for dusting or photography purposes.

To us, this makes perfect sense; but it confounded WPT.  He asked if the toys ever get lonely… well, aside from the fact that an inanimate object can’t get lonely, we have lots of stuffed toys.  To ensure we won’t be tempted to pick up the toys, they’re placed in groups so they’ll never be lonely.  He then asked about HIS stuffed bear… one he’d had from childhood.  It was well worn, with an eye missing and some of the stuffing leaking out.  What do we think of his bear?  Well again, it makes perfect sense to us… his bear is well loved, beautiful and clean (unless it’s really nasty and needs a wash).  It’s only when we touch it that it would become dirty.  We never touch other peoples stuffed toys, unless forced.

The cause for this thinking could be for a number of reasons – OCD, perfectionism etc… and while I think these are contributing factors, I think the real reasoning goes back to what Katie said in her comment to me in a previous post.  She quite rightly, pointed out how flippantly I assign negative labels to myself.  I know I do this, and have done so since I was a child.  I am/was sensitive, and remember the negatives said to me over anything positive.  When I was called the “mistake at the end”, “strange”, “odd” or “difficult”, that is all I hear.  I take those words into the system and hold onto them.  They define me.

However, the most damaging use of the negative wording, were associated with the abuse I was subjected to.  The abusers said that I was “evil for making [him] do this to [me]“, “a dirty little girl” or “a naughty little girl”.  When this was combined with the mixed religious messages that I grew up with; it resulted in parts of me firmly believing that they are evil, dirty and anything they touch would be sullied.

We are our harshest critics.  We believe we are stupid, useless, ugly, dirty… the list goes on.  We try not to make it too obvious that this is how we view ourselves – we learned very early that some people enjoy playing with those who have low self esteem.  So, we usually present a façade of calm confidence.  We were so good at this during our teen years, that our aunt considered us a stuck-up perfectionist… Our protection system failed us…  We’d taken it too far.

Couldn’t they see we were just trying so hard to make up for our dirty, evilness?  We had to be perfect in order to try to counteract all that had happened.  We had to be perfect to try and ensure that no one would see us…

You have to be invisible
If you’re invisible, no one can see you
No one can hurt you if you aren’t there

This is an enduring message that I have lived with for most of my life.  It comes from a young one, and has been one of the driving influences in my life.  During my healing, people have tried to point out to me that by being invisible, we are also invisible to those who want to help us.  I think this new way of thinking is starting to sink in.

At the moment, I’m getting lots of little pieces of the puzzle of my life being thrown at me.  It’s difficult to put them into a place or context.  But I am becoming increasingly aware of how they have impacted on my thinking and being.  Some of the enduring patterns of thinking are starting to be identified, examined and questioned.  I’m both excited and terrified…

And the red dog… I found out today that one of the young ones used to stare at our red stuffed toy dog while we were being abused.  She could look, but not touch…

Another reason why we find it difficult to touch stuffed toys.

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Now playing: Sarah McLachlan – I Will Remember You [Live]
via FoxyTunes

I found this today… Simple and soothing.

The story of how this song came about can be found here.

I learned from an early age that my family needed to be protected.  In my childlike way, I saw them as being unable to handle the secrets I held, or even to be able to deal with daily problems.  I saw the family around me, as being a swirling mass of chaos, and the only way to bring some control and calm to the situation, was for me to be a silent rock.

While this sounds very egocentric, it meshes with some of the basic principles of childhood development.  Dunn (1991, as cited in Claiborne & Drewery, 2010, p. 157), discuss how children as young as two attempt to comfort their mother when they see her distressed.  While Lewis (2002, as cited in Santrock, 2007, p. 340), talk about the development of shame and guilt for not meeting societal expectations in children as young as two and a half.  So it makes developmental sense, that by the time I was first abused at the age of three (nearly four), I could understand (in a childlike way) the implications of telling.  I could grasp the idea that it might either hurt someone else, or bring shame on myself for not meeting my mothers expectations – after all I was told at the event that it was “bad”, “dirty”, “wrong” and “naughty”… all very emotive words to a sensitive child.

Reading the literature on dysfunctional families, it also becomes clear that the need to protect my family meant that I lost sense of appropriate boundaries (Kerig, 2005).  It meant that I became enmeshed in the problems of some of my family (father, sister and one of my brothers) and held other members of my family quite distant from myself (mother and other brother).  Throughout the family, there was almost no boundaries where I was concerned.  My other siblings were able to create some sense of boundaries, but I seemed unable to do so.  This is possibly because of the age gap between us  – there is a five year age gap between myself and the next oldest child, but only four years difference between my other siblings combined.  It could also be because I was a difficult baby/child and I didn’t emotionally attach securely to anyone, with the associated developmental impact (Claiborne & Drewery, 2010, p. 49-51).

At this point, the intellectual part of me is happy with the theory as it helps to explain why we got where we did… the cynical part of me notes that we never had a chance… while the emotional part is screaming in pain…

So what does all this theory mean?  On one level, it helps to explain why we ended up in a dysfunctional family and were an easy target for abuse… we had no concept of what an appropriate boundary was; we were used to protecting others; and we didn’t really understand that it was wrong, because we didn’t understand where we ended and the rest of the world began.  On another level, there’s pain… total and utter pain… it doesn’t matter why it happened, it happened and it hurt.

In the midst of writing this post, I’ve seen the work place therapist.  In that one hour “talk” we did a sociogram of three people – my neighbour, the mother and sister.  It was incredible and awful…  On the floor we placed whiteboard magnets for each person in relation to myself…

First, was my neighbour, who was placed about 5cm from my marker… she was safety, freedom and acceptance.  But she was also shame and pain… I once overheard my neighbour, the mother, the sister and my neighbours daughter discussing how good it was that I wasn’t around because I was so annoying.  She was the safest thing I had outside of the teachers at school.

Second to be placed, was a marker for the mother, who was about 15cm away from my marker… she was not to be trusted, to be protected, consumed with the problems of my sister and joked about me being the mistake at the end.

Third to be placed, was my sister’s marker… this is where the lack of boundaries really showed… I told the work place therapist that she should be placed on the other side of the room, and on top of my marker.  There was nothing in-between, she was either invading my space or ignoring me.  She controlled many aspects of my life.  We shared a room for many years and she invaded my space so often, in so many ways.

This seemingly simple task brought up so much… W filled in the rest of the memory surrounding what happened after we overheard the discussion about us being so annoying – we got down off the fence and went inside the house to be hurt… We realised how young we dissociated, as we remembered getting a hug from a teacher for correcting a story; but we were depersonalised at the time, as we were so terrified that we hadn’t corrected the story “properly”.

Sophie cried… W was tough… Little Michelle stuttered…

Our work place therapist kept bringing us back to the emotions…

It was difficult, but not overwhelming.

What does all of this mean?  Well, for once I can understand the theory and associate some of the emotions with it.  Yes, I parented/protected those around me… I looked after my family’s needs before my own, I kept the secrets, all the while learning to cope and adapt through the gift/curse of dissociation.  I failed to learn and understand what appropriate boundaries were – physically, sexually, psychologically and emotionally.  I learned to lock away my emotions, and although these emotions hurt to look at and experience, they won’t destroy me – unless I let them (thank you to Meredith for today’s reminder regarding the truth of this statement).

My work place therapist said today that I was a strong child… Right now, that statement is enough for me to believe that I can heal and grow beyond the confined world I find myself in.

References

Claiborne, L., & Drewery, W. (2010). Human development: Family, place, culture. North Ryde, New South Wales, Australia: McGraw-Hill Australia.

Kerig, P. (2005). Revisiting the construct of boundary dissolution: A multidimensional perspective. Journal of Emotional Abuse 5(2/3), 5-42. doi: 10.1300/J135v05n02•02

Santrock, J. (2007). Child development (11th ed.). Boston: McGraw-Hill.

The following was given to me by our work place therapist. It was written by one of his clients…

There is a woman sitting in a room. All the walls of the room are engulfed in flames, which are raging relentlessly. To get to the door and get out, she must go through the flames. But her mind won’t give in to the overwhelming fear of getting burnt. Around her the flames are getting closer and the smoke is becoming thick. She is becoming weaker with each breath. She now realises that if she doesn’t get out soon, she is going to die. She imagines getting out and watching the wounds heal, but bearing the scars for the rest of her life. She thinks for a long time that dying would be so much easier and even less painful.

Outside, there are people going about their daily tasks. They smell the smoke, but convince themselves that it is merely a cigarette burning somewhere.

The woman is now growing very weak and calls out for help as she starts to fear death. Some people are genuinely deaf, but others choose not to hear her cries.

One person out of a crowd of many chooses to go to the room, clearly hearing the cries for help. But when he gets to the door, it is locked from the inside. The man becomes frustrated as he realises that all he can do is try to convince the woman to come through the flames and out the door.

The choice again is with the woman; come through the flames, knowing that there is a person waiting outside who chose to care, and be scarred. Or die alone in her own little room engulfed in flames.

Survivor?

The beach has always been my retreat… my safe haven. Whenever things got out of control, I drove to the beach. I could look out over the ocean for hours on end, slowly feeling everything internally calm down. It is one of the few places where I can feel peace and a sense of safety.

So, this is my first attempt at the Expressive Arts Carnival hosted by Paul at MindParts. I’ll probably change it when I’m in a better frame of mind; but for now, this is it.

If you’re wondering why I’m posting this now, when everything is so out of control; well it sort of feels like I’ve let the side down by showing my dysfunction and weakness. Like I’m not playing the “game” of being a “survivor”. I realise this is possibly my own expectations coming into play, but there it is…

So, long time no posting…  I wish I could report some wondrous reason for my absence, but unfortunately not.  The only reason is pure dysfunction.  The reason for the dysfunction are my lessons for the week…

Lesson 1: Remember, listen and pay attention

I’m often reminded of the ripple effect any incident can have in a dissociative system.  Something that doesn’t even register as a ripple to you, can be tidal wave to another part of the system.  So when I briefly posted an entry on this blog that contained the words “good girl”, I had no idea what the consequences would be.  I didn’t sense any real warnings about the meditation when I read the original entry.  But then, I don’t think I was really listening and paying attention to what was happening internally.  I was thinking of sharing what I thought was a valuable resource with others – librarian mode in full flight.

The first hint that things weren’t right, was a message from S:
“I’m no ones good little girl”

Once I saw this message, I edited the entry to something I thought was safer. Ellie tried to reassure S -
Ellie: “it’s been changed”
S: “too late… pay the consequences”
Ellie: “it’s been removed, no need for consequences”

The thing is, I should have known not to use that phrase – it was listed in one of the original trigger inventories that I did early in my healing journey.  But I was arrogant, careless and disrespectful.  I was thinking of sharing a resource, more than I was thinking of the ones who carry the wounds.  There were consequences to using that phrase, and it’s impossible to blame her.  I trampled all over S and her triggers, so why should I expect niceties in return?

Yes, it would have been great if S could have dealt with the situation differently.  But, it also would have been great if I’d thought about what I was doing.

Did I really pay attention inside? No.
Did I think about the phrases I was reading and using? No.
Was I being a self-important pompous twit by finding something that others might find useful? Yes.

I was thinking of myself more than the system.  No wonder they don’t trust me.

Lesson 2: Be responsible for your own safety

Yes, the consequences of my actions meant that S lashed out.  The flashbacks were horrific and all consuming. This allowed the ones who are dangerous to come forward and, for want of a better word, play with the body.  But before we reached this point, I had the opportunity to ask for help from Allison and the crisis team.  That would have been the sensible thing to do, but what did I do instead?  Basically, I set Allison up for failure.  I was unable to say the words “I need help”.  Instead I buried the message in emails from M and the young ones tried to tell how scary it was within therapy.  It wasn’t surprising that Allison couldn’t work out how bad things were.  But her inability to read all the messages that seemed obvious to us, meant that she had failed.  So after therapy on Monday there was a dangerous incident that meant we ended up in respite care for two nights.

The truly sad thing, is that even after the incident, I wasn’t able to communicate to the crisis team that I was still in danger.  Both Sophie and M were telling the team that we were in danger, but also didn’t want to cause a fuss, so were going along with their plans to send us home.  When it became obvious that this was going to happen, a very restrained Frank came forward and indicated how unstable we were.  At least some part of me was willing to step up and protect us.

So this is what I’ve indicated to Allison that we need to work on immediately, my inability to communicate the level of danger I’m in.  I need to know how to read the signs within the system and communicate it clearly.  I know I’m hampered from this free communication because so many of the young ones are triggered by hospitals, and our fear is that if we are honest about how bad things are, we’ll end up there.

If I’d been honest today, I probably shouldn’t have been released from respite.  But respite was different this time.  I was in the same place, but the carer in charge for the week was different, as were the mix of the clients.  This threw the dynamics off to the point where it didn’t feel safe.  It felt like my house growing up; rather than the healthy, vibrant place that the other carer made it.

I know I’m not out of danger yet.  I’m seeing the crisis psychiatrist today, so I’ll get another chance at trying to be honest about my level of danger and establishing what options are available to me.  I’m almost resigned to a hospital stay… some think this would be a good idea, especially in the secure ward where we can release some of the pent up emotion in a safe environment.

So at the moment I feel like a complete and utter failure.  I put the system under more stress at an already stressful time, and I didn’t take adequate steps to protect us once the damage had been done…  Yup, a failure.

Note: Please be aware that I am getting support, I’m not putting this out there and expecting readers to save me… although donations gratefully accepted (especially therapy vouchers) – you know, just saying :)

Yesterday during lunch at work, I had no idea who I was.  I had no idea what my name was, how old I was or where in the world I was.  There was a sense of detached wonder about being able to use the computer… “wow, I can use this thing”.  I had no memory of learning how to type, or even how to use my body to do basic things such as pick up my cup.   Everything seemed so big, scary, and yet wondrous at the same time.  It also seemed really bright… the artificial light in the office felt like I was looking directly into the Sun.

This is yet another sign that the dissociation is out of control… this was a young one from our internal Basement, in charge of the body, while at work.  That can’t happen again.  It’s not fair to the young one, or to the ones who usually attend work.

The problem is, what to do in order to get some sense of control back?  We’re actively doing all the coping mechanisms we can think of – breathing, taking breaks at work, distracting, grounding etc.  But I’m still a mess.  I’m constantly getting flashbacks of some sort… I’m seeing things out of the corner of my eye (psychosis or a lack of sleep?)…  It feels as if I’m constantly on the edge of switching – that spacey, free-falling feeling…

There’s also dread… I don’t WANT to know why I keep on seeing flashbacks of the changing rooms at the rugby club; I don’t WANT to know why L&P is suddenly a trigger; and I don’t WANT to know why I keep hearing certain phrases over and over in my head…  I’ve had enough…  Surely there can’t be more.

But, I also know that I need to listen and try to understand what’s happening internally. I know this is the way to healing… listening, understanding and easing the pain.  But, I don’t think I have the strength to do this anymore…

Below is a something that was created while at work earlier in the week.  I’m not good at art – I got a D for it in school.  So I’m unable to translate what is in my head into something that is recognisable in practice.  I keep trying to tell myself that art within a healing context is more about the feelings, than the technique… but I still can’t get past how bad it looks in comparison to what was wanted.  It’s so frustrating when I can’t find a way to express what is going on in my head…

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Now playing: Cat Stevens – Moonshadow
via FoxyTunes