D.I.D.

I know a lot of what is written about Dissociative Identity Disorder [multiple personalities] seems extreme.

In my own experience, there have been compartmented experiences, with the blackouts being either partial or complete.

Sometimes I know nothing of what is happening, in extreme crisis, as my more powerful self takes over, and

something akin to peeking through a keyhole to see what I am doing/saying... as I can only see a tiny bit, and at other times words just pop out of my mouth that I can not control and never thought of.

it has never been like the movies; the 3 faces of Eve for example, and my worst persona

are completely erased since I stopped being a heavy drinker.

I know, a lot of people behave differently when plastered, but that is not what used to happen to me, it was more like being completely out of body, and things I would never do or say occur.

Sobriety is a wonderful empowering thing.

I highly recommend it.

Maybe you have some "missing time" or blackouts in your past and wonder if there is something wrong.

This could be D.I.D.

I saw a photo of myself wearing clothing I have no memory of owning....... and people have told me that I did something I have no memory of.

This has been disturbing, and nobody accepts my factual condition.

Having been badly abused for most of my childhood and having had a series of bad relationships as an adult

is the norm for being one with D.I.D.

I cannot tell how many times my father banged my head into a wall, or the floor when raping me.

I was strangled, and he also used chloroform on me. That was the worst because I would come out of it groggy and confused

with loss of memory for a long time.

Migraines can also be part of the problem, as the really bad stress of trauma can cause blinding headaches.

I know that many therapists don't even acknowledge this situation, so I had to do most of my own work repairing my condition.

I am glad to say; I have recovered most of my memories, and have allowed myself to take a long hard look at my personal history.

I was never sure it could be done, but I have not had any blackout episodes for a few years now.

If you have this condition, keep a journal of what happens, and go back and read what you have written from time to time.

You can improve. You can also be proud of yourself for surviving abuse.

Not everyone does.

God bless

life ponderings

I nearly lost my sight in my left eye back in high school, it went from 20/40 to 20/200

in a couple of days. I was bumping into trees and falling off curbs, and close friends thought

I was snubbing them but I just couldn't tell who they were.

Fortunately, my grandfather Auldridge took me to an opthamologist [my parents didn't care]

and we were able to reverse the infection that was damaging my optic nerve.

That was pretty frightening, I am glad my art teacher, Mr. Fowle, insisted I get someone to help me. I might not have thought of asking my granddad.

vexation to my spirit

instead of sleeping, I am remembering how policemen failed to help me protect my children, how they could look me in the eyes and say; "it's a domestic dispute" when he abducted my baby.

if the police are not here to keep an oath to provide for the defense of innocent children, what ARE they here for? I was doing everything possible to uphold the oath I had with God when he entrusted my baby to my care....... from the moment she was conceived. Parenting is an awesome responsibility, and I completely understood that. There was never anything more important to me than the lives of my children.

How could his paternity be an excuse for the damage he was doing to my baby? She was not property. She was an innocent and totally defenseless toddler. His depravity was all that mattered to him, what he wanted and what his lusts demanded. Innocence and defenselessness had no meaning to him.

Power over a small victim does not, and never will, make anyone into a man. It destroys humanity. He thumbs his nose at all that is decent and good in life, and at God who gave him life. This creature is not man, but beast. Not only damaging those in his grasp, but long afterwards, ruining any real chance of a normal future for all those in his wake.

That is in no way true power, but the ugliest imitation of power; wanton destruction and violation. The torment should turn in on himself. His beard being the only mask to keep him from looking at the foul creature he is deep within as he faces a mirror.

Surely, God will turn his back on him in his hour of need. That would be a mercy for me and the children he harmed. We need mercy.

the sorrow stays

Night after night I have the same thing; too much sorrow to sleep. I have sorrow for the life that was stolen from me, a life where I could cuddle my own baby son and name him what I wanted to name him and sing to him and teach him the things he needed to know.

I had to have permission. Permission to burp him. Permission to choose a tv show for him, because I knew Sesame Street was very educational. I had to fight for his right to watch it. I had to have permission to take him out to lunch when I was working at the age of 18 and had my own money to spend. I wasn't allowed to drive, so I had to ask my mother to drive us to the IHOP and let us have lunch.

As long as she lived, I was never allowed to be angry at her. My memories were ridiculed and mocked. I was tormented every day of my life.What would it have cost her to be kind to me for a few minutes?

When I was old enough to date, I had to make a bargain with her. I could only go out with my boyfriend one night a week, she had to go out on the other weekend night and have me stay in and 'babysit' my son. I could never call him my son. I learned my lesson on that when he was 3 days old. Never stand up for myself, never speak the truth, never be a mother to my baby.

Now that he is 48 years old, nobody can make me shut up. Nobody can call me a liar or insane, I just won't allow that abuse in my life ever again. It was deeply abusive. Being forced to live a lie against my own nature. My own mind was a prison. My sorrow was a secret shame. I didn't know what was the matter with me, I only knew what I was told; to be careful to not let anyone know I was crazy.

Disrespecting me every day of my life was the craziness. Putting a false front on our whole lives was the craziness invented by my mother. Building emnity between my sister and me was her idea too. Reward the younger girl whenever she made me feel worthless or ugly or foolish. Heaps of praises on her when she lied about me........ pretending her big sister was going to a seance in a graveyard on halloween......... something I would never do. But she was believed, and her lies greatly received. What a lesson to teach a child; to reward foul play, and praise division.

THERE was insanity in our family, but it wasn't mine. "He's an alcoholic" and "I've always had my sneaking suspicions about him." all lies to make her seem like a good mother. Solid proof is not the same as a sneaking suspicion. She always had proof. She always bolstered her life with denial, a pretty and tame way of saying a huge stinking lie.

Bullcrap by any other name, still stinks.

So thanks Mom, for making me suffer so much through all of those years, that I can't go to sleep at night without the tears. I can't go through my days without the huge hole in my heart. Breaking a child's trust is the most harmful way to break their heart. It never gets unbroken.

a share and a prayer request

this is a copy of what I posted with my prayer partners.

so, the Lord sent me a set of ongoing disturbing dreams and I finally gave up and got out of bed.

the main theme of the dream; I had to keep sneaking up on a man, who seemed to be Leonard Nimoy, and make him look at his 'true self' in a small hand mirror. I had to keep sneaking up on him, because he didn't want to face the truth about himself. I kept finding a new path that led to him over and over, producing the mirror from where I hid it behind my back at the right moment every time I got near enough to him. It was a tough job, but it was my job.

So, as I got out of bed, I realized; it is not just my job to pray for the departed [represented by the man in the dream], but also to actually deal with the old man I have been avoiding having to deal with for quite some time. My uncle Gene, who lives 2 houses away from me here in my new home, is a 90 year old fallen away cradle Catholic. He is also the man who molested my son for years, from the ages of 9 to 16, and also my sister's son when he was similar ages. He managed to convince both young boys to not tell anyone. It finally came out a few years ago, and I made some confrontation with Gene when I first found out, but I have avoided speaking to him for a few years until I moved here. It's a hard thing to look at this little old man and realize he harmed small boys when he could have chosen not to. He was not a violent offender, but he did great harm all the same.

Anger is a tough thing for me to overcome. I do know how to hang on to it better than I know how to release it.

I do see that God wants me to deal with this. So, I will force myself. I have to make Gene look at his true self and bring himself to confession and REALLY deal with the results of what he has done in his younger days. Just a bit to make it harder; he is half deaf now and I have to speak much louder to have a conversation with him.......... so it's a real chore emotionally and physically. I am normally very soft spoken, and I start losing my voice when dealing with him.

ok, that's a pretty concise description of what I will be needing prayer on, thanks in advance ladies, this is a real task.

I also shared this with my youngest sister.

the daily struggle

I strive daily in pursuit of a peaceful mind, a grasp of joy, a normal life. It is always something I view in other people's lives, and never in my own for more than a few moments, only to be interrupted by flashes of past abuse. I can be thinking of a painting to work on, a subject of love and faith, and the flashes intrude and grab my mind and steer me from my goals.

I have heard all of the platitudes that suggest it is all up to me, that I can put the past behind me and go forward unaffected.

HOGWASH!

all of those platitudes, slogans and little drops of so-called "wisdom" are perpetrated by those who have never been where I have been. Never lived my life. Never even seen the pain and turmoil of my being.

You can never look at a victim of something horrible and offer them some pearl of advice if you are not also a victim, struggling with their struggles, battling their exact same demons.

Don't get me wrong, I would never in a million years wish that any of this would have happened to you, nor would I suggest that my siblings should suffer the clarity of memory that I am blessed/cursed with. If anyone can walk away and never remember the pain and anger and humiliation forced on by a soul-less cad, that would truly be a gift from God not to be trifled with.

Still, I want a peaceful mind. I know I am made to suffer in order to be of some use to others who suffer, and if anyone gains an ounce of understanding by reading my blog, it is made a worthy venture. Before I can have peace in my mind, we need to eliminate all child abuse, all sexual abuse, all abuse of women and children, all human traffic, all pornography, all manner of debasement and objectification of persons everywhere in the world. Then, not only can I have peace, but so can we all. If this post makes you uncomfortable, good, you should be. We have a world of work to do.

july 2013

I have been struggling lately with so many unresolved issues, mainly with departed relatives, and I need to find a better way to cope with the anguish. I don't like having so many distressing dreams, and so much depression. I have started doing individual work with my therapist, instead of group, as group was becoming counter productive for me.

Having a good way to cope is so important in how we manage the damage inflicted on us. I am trying hard.