Scattered pieces

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 :)

While in respite, the respite house owner/carer turned to me and directly asked me how I was.  It had been a hectic day with the other women in respite acting out in various ways, meanwhile we’d been quietly in our room doing art and drinking water.  The question was asked directly, and we deflected it nicely by saying that we were fine.  It was her follow up statement that threw me, and cut to the core of our issues while growing up – “It’s always the quiet ones who get overlooked”.  I was that quiet one.  I always have been.  I actively become quiet when things are bad with my mental health or if people are hurting me.  It’s one of the ways to become invisible, to become so quiet that no one sees you.  If no one sees you, then no one can hurt you and no one can ask you difficult questions.  So, we became very good at being quiet and flying under the radar.  The respite carer knew this technique…

When we relayed this incident to the mother after we’d come out of respite, we couldn’t do it without tearing up…  The carer “saw us” in that brief moment of asking the how we were.  In contrast, when telling the mother, she looked away, uncomfortable with the situation and the tears in my eyes.  I try not to blame my mother for her reactions, she had tough parenting and has never been in therapy long enough to change the habits of being an absentee parent herself.  She does try to show she cares in various ways, they’re just not very productive or meaningful.  Instead of apologising for the oversights in the past, she washes my windows…

We remain that quiet one.  We do this in therapy as well.  Liz has now realised the extent of our avoidance and quietness during therapy.  Our resolve for the New Year is to try and tease out the anger that sits within the system.  In many ways I don’t mind if this happens, I’m so out of touch with the anger that I don’t recognise it as existing.  But, at times when I do get a sense of the anger being there, it terrifies me to think that we will be looking at it more closely.  It’s something that has been tucked away and growing for the last 30 odd years, I’m not quite sure what it will look like when we do lift the lid.  Liz assures me that we will lift the lid very slowly and with great care…

Yesterday the safety of the respite house came under question. We left to spend the day with the mother, mainly to test how well we are. It turns out we’re still not all that grounded or well…

When we returned we found that a new client had arrived at the respite house. This was fine, they are female and seemingly non-threatening. So we went down to our room to drop off some things, only to find that someone had been in and used our art supplies. The young ones were so upset about this boundary violation. Little Michelle came forward and looked around in tears. This may seem like an over-reaction considering nothing had been destroyed, but it was the young ones who had their things moved and used. M was prepared for our iPod to have been stolen, and it would have had less impact if that’s what had happened. The iPod is mainly for the teens and adults, we could have coped better than the invasion on the young ones things.

Then at night the new client went on a severe binging and purging cycle. It was awful for her, she’d felt so positive during the day. For us it was a huge trigger. We have food issues as well, not to the level of the new client, but her pain and acting out was enough to trigger us through the roof.

So our safe house doesn’t feel so safe anymore. We know it was the carers grandson who used our art things, we know the mother is trying and we know the new client is trying to work through their problems. But we feel so small and scared. We feel like we’ve taken a huge step backwards.