Grieving Those Who Are Still Alive & Other Moods


I’ve been away a long time, I know. From time to time I have phases where, even though I’m going through something, I don’t have the words or sometimes just the energy to blog it. I had a therapy session today though and I thought I’d give writing a go.

My mother’s communication has brought up a lot of crap that I thought I had worked through. That’s the way of things, you think you’ve worked through an issue and felt all your feelings but then something happens to bring them back and they can be just as strong as they were before or stronger.

As I said in my last post I’ve been very angry and feeling a lot of hatred. That’s another reason I didn’t blog…I had already said all of this and I figured, ‘why repeat it all again’? The anger is still there, so is the hatred, but I was surprised a few days a go when I sadness. The context was watching a video about a young man who bought his mom a car she had wanted his whole life. The sadness came when I realized that I would never have those feelings for the woman who gave birth to me. Besides the anger and hate, I feel nothing for her besides annoyance when I have to interact with her, even though it’s all through email.

My therapist said today that I need to grieve that loss and I frowned because I thought I’d already done this years ago. Ugh.

She also said something that was perfectly worded although I won’t get the wording exactly right, but she mentioned how confusing this is for me because my mother is still alive and is a nuisance. So she’s alive but I still need to grieve because I never had a mother. Yeah, that is weird and it is confusing.

She and I have often said that my grandmother was really my mother because she raised me for the first 6 years of my life, not to mention all the times I was sent to live with her. She was my one constant in this world; the place I was most safe. But today during therapy we adjusted the wording on that because I said that although I now realize as an adult that my grandmother was my mother figure, when I was a child I did not know that nor did I see her that way.I saw her as my grandmother and therefore the only mother I had was the woman who gave birth to me and abused me until I moved out. So my therapist said ‘let’s say that you had an extra, extra special grandmother’, which is very true. Therefore, the loss is still there. It’s also complicated by the fact that my grandmother died way too young and that I found her body. That particular grief keeps cropping up over and over and it makes things more garbled and emotional.

In the background of all of this is the issue of the sexual abuse by my uncle. Whew, you know what? It’s really good to write that sentence because with all the mother crap, the sexual abuse has been pushed aside but my psyche keeps flashing images and my stomach keeps getting tight and flip flopping when he comes up. I still have dreams from time to time but I haven’t been talking about it. It’s good to talk about it. I was going to go to a support group that I found out about in my area but I think it moved to a church and I don’t do churches. As I write this I keep thinking that maybe I should go back to making collages…maybe that will help me get my focus back on what I really want to understand; the sexual abuse.

I’m glad that I sat down to write this because it was good to reconnect to my writing, my blog and my readers. And I reconnected a bit more to myself. Thanks for sharing this space with me. I’ll try to write more often instead of letting things simmer in my brain so much.

Posted in dissociation, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Trauma | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

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There’s This Feeling


There’s this feeling hanging over me. The feeling that something is very wrong but I can’t grasp it. The feeling that there’s a whole life hidden in my head that I don’t know about. I can see little blips like clips from a movie repeating in front of my eyes but they’re so quick I can’t really see them. I feel fear, sadness, but it never processes because it won’t come out. The feeling just stays with me and it’s so heavy. I don’t want to get rid of it…the feeling let’s me know that it’s real. I just need to understand it. I just need to know. I think I have the right to know the truth about my own life.

Posted in dissociative identity disorder | 8 Comments

Passive Is Just Aggressive


A thought just occurred to me today concerning the communications I’ve been having with “her” our mother. To recap, many of you know that I cut her off for years because she’s abusive and toxic but that she eventually offered what I considered the only apology someone like her is capable of. I have allowed very limited contact via email and only for a specific number of times. There have been quite a few times where I’ve asked her a direct question about something, not anything confrontational, normal stuff and in her next email she will not answer the question but instead says something about herself like complaining about her health. It happened a few times but I didn’t get a light bulb over my head until today and I want to run it by you guys to see if I may be on to something. It drives her crazy that she can’t control me and she has expressed her anger in various ways both psychological and physical in the past. Once I cut her off she had to apologize for the first time in her life even though it wasn’t really an admittance of anything. She loves playing games with people…passive agressive or just plain aggressive and she has readily admitted to doing so before with that sick smirk she gets on her face. As an example of a recent instance, a  month or so ago I asked her some health questions about my grandmother, her mother, who died younger than she should have been and had severe heart problems my whole life. My mother ignored my question, waited, and then in one of her emails proceeded to list off really ridiculous, non-serious illnesses and procedures she’s had and used my words when I had asked about my grandmother, that it was for my family medical history. She never answered my question but made sure she complained about herself. Now, she’s done it again. I asked for an email address and she again ignored my question and this time told me some shocking news about the person (news which would make me want to get in touch with this person even more to see how they are), and then complained about herself again saying how tired she was. After this most recent exchange an idea came to me. It occurred to me that maybe she is playing games again because this is all she can do. I ask for information and she has control of giving it to me. In the case of this relative she can prevent me from getting closer to this person. She can’t control me but she can control this. She can play passive-aggressive by ignoring me and saying what she wants to say, drawing attention to herself which is her favorite past time. ‘Poor me, I’m so sick, I have this really common ailment and boo hoo…’ It’s the same crap as before: ‘Pay attention to me!’ ‘Me, me, me!’ ‘Oh you want this? Forget it, unless you play my game.’ There have been at least four instances like this. What do you guys think?

Posted in dissociative identity disorder, Family Relationships | Tagged | 12 Comments

The Reality of Dreams


I haven’t written in a bit so let’s catch up.

Dreams are interesting. They’re not real and yet they are; the subconscious weaves a story or scenario that draws from both fantasy and fact. Even the fantasy aspects come from something real even when we don’t realize it.

My therapist and I have discussed dreams a lot in the past year or so. I was not a person who put much importance on dream imagery and of course, she being a feeling type, pays attention to what her clients dream about. However my viewpoint has changed somewhat because I cannot deny the rings of truth that my dreams contain and more than that certain dreams cause emotions and reactions in me that I have never experienced before and I can’t ignore them. It also helped that my therapist explained that dreams are us talking to ourselves. Our dreams pull from memories, lots and lots of memories and puts them together; something we saw a day ago or something we felt a year ago…it’s all in there. Dreams of course don’t show us every single moment in factual order all the time but that doesn’t mean that the images shown aren’t important.

That isn’t to say that I’m going around with a dream dictionary and putting meaning into every image I see when I’m asleep. Sometimes a dream is just a dream. :) Instead, the dreams that need me to take notice tend to make such an impression that I am shaken upon waking.

As an example I will mention a dream I had recently.

I was with my grandmother. Now right off the bat these dreams are hard for me because in my dreams I always know that she’s dead and she does not. Even asleep I feel intense grief as I see her and talk to her because I know that she is gone and it’s painful to be with her in a fake place in my unconscious.

In this dream she and I were talking and I asked her a question about my uncle. For those of you who have read my blog for a while you know the circumstances about this man and you know that questions hound and haunt me constantly.

In the dream my grandmother was very much as I imagine she would have been had I had the chance to ask her the questions I need answers to when she was alive, one adult to another. She did not want me digging this up. She did not want me to ask questions she wanted me to leave it alone. She couldn’t understand why I was asking about him. The impression I got wasn’t that her reticence was due to the fact that there was nothing to say but quite the opposite, there was a lot to say but she didn’t want to say it.

Somehow I convinced her to tell me…I think I just said something to the effect ‘I need to know’ and she gave in. In the dreams she told me things about what my uncle did, but as in other dreams about him I couldn’t remember the details when I woke up, I just remember that there was a feeling that something really bad happened to me. In what I considered a clever little bit of wording after I woke up (and after I stopped sobbing. I’ll get to that later), she told me that I had been treated at a facility called Monday Morning. This was funny to me because when I woke up from dreaming it was 3:00 a.m. Monday morning.

Things got very painful in my dream after my grandmother was done talking to me. As soon as she was finished she put her hand over her chest…(my grandmother had serious heart problems that I was aware of even as a very little child). The dream me rushed to her and told her that this time around she had lived months longer than she had the last time. To make that sentence more understandable, it was like in the dream, we were in an alternate timeline and she didn’t die when I 18, she was still alive by a few extra months because something was different this time. Maybe you need to be a trekkie to get that so I’ll just leave it.

Anyway, I told her to lie down and I was so scared because I didn’t want her to die again. The dream switched suddenly as they often do, and I was in the car taking her to the hospital. My husband was  in the backseat. Just as I was approaching the hospital, she died. I said “she’s dead” and I started to cry then I woke up.

I’ve noticed a large change in how I wake up when I have very intense dreams about my grandmother and sometimes my uncle. I wake up weeping. I use the word weeping because it’s more than crying to me. I will wake up on a sob and tears can be already coming out of my eye before I’m fully conscious. That’s how it was this time. I woke up sobbing and my poor husband was woken up wondering what in the world was happening. He kept trying to talk to me and I couldn’t even form words because every breath came out as a sob.

I won’t go into the rest of my day after that but I did pay attention to what I saw and more so what I felt in that dream and afterwards. The tears weren’t just about my grandmother. Yes, she was intrical to it but I sensed that there was more to it and that because I couldn’t remember the details of what she said my uncle did, I couldn’t process those emotions when I woke up. That was difficult and made me feel off for a while but because I shut off my feelings for the majority of my life, I appreciate any hints I can get from my brain.

My therapist thought it was significant that my grandmother died after she told me. She wondered if that’s how I felt as a child, like she would die. It’s an interesting theory. I just need solid answers.

Dreams aren’t complete factual accounts but I hope it’s a sign that I’m ready to remember more.

Posted in dissociative identity disorder | 2 Comments

Hermitville


I’m just now realizing I have a bit of a problem. I’ve had issues leaving my house for a while but I’m really having problems now.

I only leave when I absolutely have to,  like when I have an appointment, then I will go the store and take care of other errands. Other than that,  I don’t leave and I have no desire to. I don’t go to movies or shop at the mall for fun or…anything. I used to do those things and I can’t pinpoint when things changed. I didn’t notice it until this past week.
I wonder what happened? When did I get like this? And more importantly, why? What is my problem?

It’s almost summer. It’s sunny, flowers are blooming. I should go outside. But I can’t. I did go for a walk a week ago. I’d like to do that again soon. That’s sad isn’t it? Hoping to go for a walk? Yikes.

Posted in dissociative identity disorder | 7 Comments

It’s So Quiet!


My inner world is silent. I feel like I’ve been cut-off and I’m super pissed! Of course it’s strange that no matter how many parts I’m mad at, that actually means that I’m mad at myself. It doesn’t change anything and it doesn’t change that it feels like it’s not me. It feels like everyone made a ruckus, showing me things that told me something bad happened to me and now…nothing. Silence. And it’s really unfair. You can’t just open the box and let all the crap be seen, then shut the box and expect me to forget. I’m so angry at these parts for pulling crap like this!

My therapist says that this too is part of the “process”. She said being angry at myself will only make things worse. But it’s not like I can hide my feelings from myself right?She says sometimes there’s a break and that I need to trust the process. Well the Process can kiss my ass. I feel like it should be my decision what I am and am not ready to know. Who the hell are they to decide for me!? I have no control over this and I hate that! I have no control over anything in my life and I’m sick of that too. I’m sick of sitting here, fat, tired, cold, in pain and knowing nothing about my own life.

 

Posted in Alters, Child Molestation, DID, dissociation, dissociative identity disorder, Incest, Multiple Personalities, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Trauma | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments