Scattered pieces

The activity for this months Expressive Arts Carnival is to:

Use any visual means (e.g., drawing, painting, photography) to represent, in an abstract way, your experience of all or part of your internal world. The key to the activity is to focus on an abstract representation. The reason for this focus is that it helps us to describe our experiences in a way that is not so familiar to us.

First off, I’m not good with abstract thinking or art, let alone putting the two together; so this activity has proven to be a bit of a challenge.

Saying that, here are our  attempts to represent what our internal world looks like…

Internal World: Part I

This one was heavily influenced by M.  It’s a very structured view, and I think comes from her place of being a little apart from the rest of us.  I think it’s possibly more of an abstract system map, rather than a representation of our inner world.

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Internal World: Part II

Well, our internal world according to Aimee and K (with help from Sophie)… They like the baby moose playing, and the mother moose always watching to make sure nothing will hurt them :)

I’m not sure if this is really a representation of our internal world for a majority of us, but I think it’s accurate for these two young ones… or how they’d like it to be???  They also love the clip, so wanted an excuse to put it on the blog…

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Internal World: Part III

In the shadows, waiting.

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Internal World: Part IV

Which leads to the final representation… the one that all of us agree to some extent represents our internal world, or a very important part of it…

Shadows…  The lower left corner represents areas which are in total darkness, while the upper right corner represents areas which are flooded with light. These two extremes are linked by varying degrees of shadow intensity.

This was an interesting exercise to do… Thank you Paul for providing the prompts.

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Now playing: Five For Fighting – 100 Years
via FoxyTunes

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.

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 :)

I’m not good with boundaries… I know this. When the dissociation and switching increases in frequency, my scant understanding of appropriate boundaries goes out the window. This was (yet again) evident earlier this week, when Matthew Branton asked (a perfectly legitimate question) about having a place within the blog where new readers could get an understanding of my background and the experiences that brought me to this place in my healing. This question, in conjunction with reading Matthew’s account of his past (Dissociative Identity Disorder and me), and Faith Allen’s series of posts about her past on Blooming Lotus; meant that a part of me took this question very literally… Suddenly there were over a 1000 words on a new page within the blog which described my family and what I have been told about my childhood up until I was a toddler. There was a real drive to write this history out, but that need came from a part of me that didn’t understand the implications for the rest of the system. They are a part of me that always obeys a suggestion or request without question. The ultimate people pleaser.

You’ll see that the page is no longer on the blog, I’ve hidden it. I realise that I do need to write out my history, but I need to write it out for Allison’s eyes only. It would be too easy to piece together my history, and find out who I am in real life from the detailed account that was being generated… that just can’t happen! I would risk losing my career and being labelled with all of the negative stereotypes that those with mental health issues carry. I hate the stereotypes and misinformation about those who deal with mental health issues every day, but I’m not in a strong enough place to fight it. Also, to be blunt, librarians are a bunch of close minded, gossiping old biddies… if they discovered that I have DID, I would never get another job within New Zealand.

After talking to a friend, I realised that I can still write a summary here about my past, but I don’t have to go into so much detail. This is where I need to learn about the appropriate boundary. How much do readers of this blog really need to know about me? Does it matter that I’m the youngest child? Does it matter that I have no memory of what any of my family looked like as I was growing up? These are the questions that I need to ask myself, and take my time answering. So, I will put up a new page that carries a summary of my experiences, but it will take me some time to come to an internal agreement as to what I can reveal safely.

The other boundary issue I’ve been facing this week, is the re-decorating of my rented house. I knew that the landlords were going to re-decorate the house sometime soon, but on Monday I got a call from a painter saying he’d be starting Tuesday; so, could I leave a key to the house under the mat to allow his team access to the house. Now, I know I should be grateful that the landlords are doing the work – the wallpaper was peeling. BUT, STRANGE MEN WERE GOING TO BE IN MY HOUSE WHILE I WASN’T THERE. They were going to be moving my stuff. They were going to be walking in my house… the house that I worked so hard to try and make feel safe. It caused havoc within the system.

On Tuesday when we came home, the wallpaper had been stripped from the walls, but the house wasn’t too messy. We could cope with a great amount of deep breathing and locking all the windows and doors – then re-checking them every hour or so. But on Wednesday when we came home, they had painted the woodwork, which caused a huge mess. They’d been careless with our possessions – our cats food and water bowl were spoiled with paint dust, there was paint on our wooden dresser and they’d carelessly knocked over our things in the bathroom. We’d also had to do some teaching that day, so it was all too much… What I’m really proud of though, is that we didn’t self injure! We were in a mess, but One remembered Paul’s oil pastel artwork, so found our old pastels and got us to draw instead of injure. This is what we drew…

Swirl

Black Red

I’m not really aware of what happened as we were drawing these, or even what they mean.  But, I know that there was a great deal of energy used on the second one.

We were hoping that they would be finished the redecorating on Friday, but it looks like they didn’t do any work at all that day. This, in combination with a rough day at work and being the anniversary of when Sophie and R were born due to an abusive event in the past; meant that last night there was a total loss of control. I only came back to any sort of awareness late Saturday morning.

What’s interesting about this latest event, is that I’m being told “You won’t tell that b@t@h Allison about this.” I’m not sure if this is a statement of fact, a challenge, or a derisive comment on my inability to talk about the tough issues in therapy. But I know that this time, I do need to tell Allison… I need to get outside help for the dangerous dysfunction. So, that’s what this weeks therapy is going to be about… wish me luck!

This latest round of confusion and self-injury, has made me aware of how little internal communication I now have. The dissociation has ramped up several notches, and my old skills have been lost (or maybe misplaced). Trust has gone, and it feels like I’m starting from scratch again…  For some reason I was reminded of this old Telecom ad… Maybe it’s the message about communication being the first step… and maybe about communication starting with the children/young ones…  Or, as is now being suggested internally, maybe I’m just a sap :)

Friends

Oh, and on a positive note… I’m the lucky “god-fearing” person chosen by Miss Linda to help her money launder retrieve $22 million from her fathers estate. The poor man was poisoned by his business colleagues (nasty men), and her only hope to get the money out of the Ivory Coast, is through me. I’ll be the lucky recipient of 15% of this sum, so it’s all good… my money worries are over! This is also a much better offer than last weeks one from Mr Philip, a lawyer from England… Strange how a lawyer would track me down as a long lost relative, when I never use my real name in any of my email addresses… but then, he’s a lawyer with wicked mad skills apparently ;)

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Now playing: Cat Stevens – Where Do The Children Play?
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…

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

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.

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…