Pavlova – the kiwi dessert
Ivory mentioned in her blog about making new traditions around important dates – Christmas in particular. I also need to do this, to shake off the rubbish from the past and get out of the loop of negativity and repeating patterns that I find myself in. She mentions sharing a Christmas story and recipe that has meaning or tradition for us. Being in the Southern Hemisphere where Christmas tends to be a very hot day, our traditions revolve around a barbie (bar-be-que) and pavlova…
Here’s the recipe for this deliciously light dessert…
4 egg whites
¼ teaspoon salt
1 cup castor sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla essence
1 teaspoon white vinegar
2 teaspoons cornflour (cornstarch)
Preheat the oven to 150°C.
Beat egg whites and salt in a bowl until soft peaks form. Gradually add the castor sugar while beating. Continue until stiff peaks form. Beat in the remaining ingredients, vanilla essence, vinegar and cornflour. Turn mixture out onto a baking paper covered tray. Shape into a circle approximately 23 cm (9 in) in diameter.
Reduce oven temperature to 140°C. Bake for 15 minutes, then further reduce the oven temperature to 120°C and bake for 1 ¼ hours. Cool completely in the oven with the oven door ajar.
Top with whipped or brandy cream and your choice of fresh fruit – traditionally strawberries, kiwifruit and a sprinkle of icing sugar.
There is debate over whether the pavlova was first made in New Zealand or Australia, but we consider it a New Zealand dish :)
As for a story or tradition, possibly my favourite Christmas memory is making home-made Christmas crackers with my Nanna (grandmother). We were on holiday in Okiwi Bay, sitting around the kitchen table picking out presents for each person, adding the popper tape and wrapping them up in paper. It was simple fun and the presents in each cracker were so much better than the ones you get in the store brought Christmas crackers.
My past isn’t always painful…
How many lives do you lead?
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.
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Now playing: U2 – Running to Stand Still
via FoxyTunes
Failure – as in, I feel like one
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.
Stand by me
I was 24 when I last talked to the father. It was during my first year of being on-campus at university and I’d agreed to stay with him for a long weekend. He hadn’t been contributing to our care since the divorce when we were 16, but we still a sense of duty to him because… well, he is the father. To say that the weekend was a disaster, would be an understatement. He lived alone in a cold, small, two bedroom semi-detached house situated at the bottom of a hill. The house felt dirty, but I think that was our association of his dirtiness getting mixed up in the perception of the house. He had become a bitter, mean old man who took pleasure in putting others down and feeding his narcissistic desires. He was not pleasant to be near.
In a move similar to asking the mother to leave when she came to visit, I left the father’s house earlier than planned. I couldn’t cope with him. The day I left I knew that I would not be able to see him again as he was too toxic. I grieved on the drive home… grieved for the father I realised I would never have, and the one I was now leaving behind. While listening to the radio during the drive, a song came on that started the tears – Stand by me by Ben E. King. To me, the song is about being strong enough to face the darkness of your fears, as long as there is someone standing beside you. During that car trip, this was particularly meaningful… I knew I was about to tell the family about my decision to no longer have contact with the father. I also knew that I was probably going to have to confront the father as well.
At the time I was living alone – I didn’t even have Winnie (our cat). So, I knew that there would be no one standing beside me, instead it would be up to the dissociative system to come together in a meaningful way to protect us all. This was at a time when I had no working knowledge of my dissociation, but I remember the internal conversations which evolved as I was taking the long trip home… There was fear, screaming, celebrations and physical pain caused by tension… But then, in a shift that I’ve now come to identify as M taking over, there was a sudden calmness and knowledge of what needed to be done. This calmness allowed Sophie to listen to the song and begin our grieving. I don’t think we fully explored the grief, but the song allowed us to cry for things we wouldn’t have and to get to a place of accepting what was happening.
When we got home, we made the necessary phone calls to the family. I don’t remember much about that time, but I do remember slamming the phone down on the father with the parting words that he and I had “never been able to talk”. I have seen him since that time – grandfather’s funeral etc. We’ve tried to be civil to him, purely out of fear and not wanting to cause more trouble within the family. But I know that under that veneer of civility, Frank is waiting to tell the father just what damage he has done. I also know that such a discussion would be pointless, as he is incapable of seeing his own faults and it would only serve to frustrate us further.
There have been other versions of the song done, but it’s Ben E. King’s version that affects us the most…
Attachment and reliance on a therapist
I’ve mentioned previously that I exhibit avoidance behaviours – this is especially true of my relationship with therapists. We respect Liz and her abilities, but we don’t particularly like her and some of us actively hate her. So any notion of becoming attached to her in any way, feels alien and odd. Up until now, I’ve been dubious as to whether any sort of attachment or reliance is necessary – surely we can learn and heal without these silly emotional concepts getting in the way… Well, apparently not. Apparently, at some stage you have to trust your therapists strength to carry some of the burden. We’ve reached that point and it’s terrifying beyond words… What if Liz can’t cope? What if she isn’t there like we need her to be? What if she looks at the problems we’re bringing, and says it’s too much… that we’re too damaged?
I have an emergency session with Liz this afternoon to try and work on a safety plan. I didn’t cope well with the ex-husband’s birthday and I need help. My heart sinks as I write those words. I don’t want to need help. I don’t want to appear less than perfect. I sure don’t want to rely on anyone else for that help. People have a habit of being human and making mistakes or not following through on the things they say… What if Liz turns out to be very normal in her mistake making abilities and lets us down when we really need someone, how are we meant to work through that? Carol is the last therapist who let us down when we needed her. She had us sectioned under the Mental Health Act because of a misunderstanding. This one mistake nearly destroyed Sophie and changed the system significantly. We can’t risk something like that again.
So, I’m going into this session on tenterhooks. I know I need help, but I’m not sure what help I need. I do know that we hate needing to ask.
Collages for healing and understanding
I’m trying something new – I’m submitting some artwork to the latest Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. The works below have great meaning for some within the system. I’m a little hesitant about submitting them, but want to support the carnival and the cause it is paying attention to this month – World Day for the Prevention of Child Abuse.
This is one of our common nightmares… trying to escape from a feeling of drowning and being pulled toward a monster or clown.
Layers of dirt, abuse and pain pile up to create a warped view of the world.
What story do the abusers see in their victims eyes?
Do they see anything, or are they scared to look?
I wonder if the look in a victims eyes has ever haunted them or kept them awake at night?
Jo
I’ve just come from an appointment with Jo. Jo is a physically similar to us in many ways, which made it hard when we walked in today and found her with her arm in a sling, a foot brace on her right foot, bruises on her arms and a black eye. We were already a little fragile, but that sent us over the edge. It was impossible to stop transferring her injuries to how it was with us when we were with the husband. She assured us that she had been hurt in a fall caused by her wearing high heels which she was unfamiliar with… But inside the young ones were screaming that someone had pushed her. Even after further assurance, they still didn’t believe her – we used to make excuses and say that the bruises were for all sorts of reasons.
We couldn’t cope with her in all of the bandages, so blocked her from our vision. When we get particularly stressed about something visual, that object becomes blurred in our vision. So Jo became a dark blur in the upper left corner, of what became a narrower and narrower field of vision. We had to leave, we couldn’t stay. We were dissociating and switching all over the place. M was trying to bring a sense of calm to the system by blocking out and stamping down the memories again, but it was too late… the memories were triggered and running rampant.
We felt so guilty for making her injuries about us and our triggers. We were worried for her, but the overwhelming message came about us being hurt. Feeling so pathetic and weak for not showing someone the care that they needed.
We’re now sitting at work freaking… we usually wear our headphones and listen to music when we’re like this, but each time the cords touch our neck we’re triggered into thinking his hands are around our neck again. We can’t stop shaking and jumping at each sound or flash of light. Only four more hours before we can go home to the safety of the house…
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Now playing: Brooke Fraser – Lifeline
via FoxyTunes
Superficial happiness & coping
I’ve noticed over the last week that we’ve moved from a state of denial to one of superficial happiness and coping. I’m not sure which is worse. Both of these states allow me to block out the chaos caused by some of our negative actions and allow me to get through the day at work without too much trouble…
The ex-husbands birthday is less than a week away. To understand what that day meant to us in the past, read this potentially triggering post we did last year at about this time. I know we’re nearly a year gone with no interaction from him, but the memories are still very fresh. What’s been interesting is that we’ve been remembering more of the good times as well as the bad – he could make us laugh and smile… Sometimes the two are blending in our memory, so they’re flicking from him laughing to him hurting us almost seamlessly.
Hating anniversaries… hating this depersonalised functioning…
Friendship and safety
Like many survivors, I learned from an early age that people weren’t to be trusted – a smile could hide other motives, laughter could mean that someone was heading towards drunkenness, etc. I also learned that people I considered friends could, and would, set me up for abuse in order to save themselves. These friends were also victims, but that betrayal of trust isolated us further. A result of these early betrayals, is a range of behaviours that could be classed as avoidant – I avoid people, attachments and social situations.
These avoidant traits have been with me for so long that it’s hard to imagine a world without them. I was described as a loner during my childhood, and now I have no one that I would consider a friend to share basic things such as go to the movies or to go for a coffee. It is rare for me to feel any regret or worry over this isolation – which has made me question whether it truly is an indication of an avoidant personality, or just my natural inclinations… The online world however, is slightly different. I have people that I’ve known online for over two years and consider them friends. Sometimes I help them, sometimes they help me – there is some form of mutual benefit in the relationship that goes beyond any tangible value.
This brings me to last night, which was a particularly rough night for me – I was sad, needing to self-injure and feeling lost. Thankfully one of my online friends was available to chat. As I’ve never had a friend who has understood me in the past, I’m never sure if the reactions I experience when chatting with an online friend is “normal” within the context of friendships. Last night, my friend and I were trying to describe the experience, we decided that it was like getting a warm safe hug from someone – there is a feeling of being safe, protected, understood and as if there was a buffer to cushion you against any hurt. This feeling makes both of us smile, with our respective younger parts feeling safe to come forward to play, tease and have fun. I have other online friends who I feel a similar sense of comfort and safety that don’t trigger the presence of the younger parts, but this particular friend does. The main result of the younger parts being present, is a sense of freedom and joy – something that is very foreign to me when talking to anyone.
I know that I have done entries in here about friends in the past. But one thing I’ve learned is that you can never take friendship for granted. It’s something to be valued, cultivated and be thankful for. If they are good friends, then this will be reciprocated – not necessarily in blog entries, but in more subtle and meaningful ways – asking how you are and pausing for an answer… listening to what is being said and responding appropriately… These little things add up to that feeling of being valued as a person with an opinion that matters. This is also why I value the comments I get on this blog. They a little snippets from people who have taken the time to respond to something that caught their interest. I try not to take that for granted, but also not be fawningly grateful :)
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Now playing: Brooke Fraser – Scarlet
via FoxyTunes
