Processing – part 1

23 Thursday May 2013

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Thank you all for your comments on my previous frantic post.  The steady trickle of them coming in has helped me keep my head above water tonight.  I really appreciate all the supportive messages. 

Tears keep filling my eyes and I don’t even really know why.  For some of us perhaps it is fear; fear that the mother heard our therapy session this morning, fear that she chose that exact moment to email because of that.  She is probably extremely aware that we can be made to feel guilty very easily – she certainly used that to her advantage when we were growing up.  Guilt is what made us want to self harm this afternoon, guilt is what made us want to jump off the balcony.  Guilt is a very intense emotion that sticks to me like glue.

For some of us perhaps it is terror; terror that I am really hurting her and she is going to die, literally, through suicide or physical illness caused by me, an old message that I just can’t get away from however much I hash it out.  And also terror that this is just the start of what will become a… witch-hunt.  I remember when I had to quit my job because I believed she was trying to hunt me down and kill me.  The terror associated with that was probably the worst I have ever experienced and I don’t doubt that some parts inside are still feeling that.

For some of us perhaps it is frustration; frustration that she had to remind us of her existence today.  Frustration that she was able to get through to me on such an old email address that was due to shut down in two weeks anyway.  Frustration that she will probably think I got it and have been affected by it as much as I have.  Frustration that I can’t actively throw it back in her face like I want to, well, parts of me want to.

For some of us it might be grief; grief that after 10 months of silence all I am worth is ‘please let me know you are okay, I miss you, thanks, mum x’. The more I read it the more I see the coldness behind the email.  The more I think, is she not going to try a bit harder than that? Where is the love in that message? “miss you” is about as much love as I get there and even then I can’t help but think, why? because you are planning your holiday and need a dog-sitter? And 10 months later she still can’t be big enough to apologise for excluding me from the “family” birthday celebrations.  She still can’t give me anything to hold onto that shows she feels just the slightest bit of remorse for the things she KNOWS she has done.

I have been trying to work out why she has emailed now.  Why not at Christmas? Why not on her birthday? I have come up with a couple of theories.  One- she has turned her calendar over and saw my birth date staring back at her.  Perhaps it has finally clicked that the person she gave birth to 26 years ago is missing.  Perhaps she is feeling fearful herself and reinstalling the fear I have of her in my life to keep me in check so I don’t uncover the abuses for what they really were.

Another theory is that the highly triggering news about the murder in Woolwich actually triggered off something in her.  I know for me, seeing the picture of the man on the street with the kitchen knife is incredibly anxiety-provoking.  For her, it probably provokes a bit of excitement.  Somewhere deep down she is probably relating that incident, on some level, with what she did to us.  I can’t look at a kitchen knife without thinking of her.  Perhaps it is the same the other way round too.

But ultimately, I am trying to work out if her message is even genuine.  I am trying to work out what her motive is.  It doesn’t seem as if she wants to get me back into the family; all she is asking me to do is tell her if I am okay.  She isn’t asking me back with loving open arms. It just feels like this is just a reminder that she is still around, and an attempt to resurrect the brainwashing she’s given me over the years.  It is a poke to say, I am still here, I can still terrorise you in your mind, you can’t get rid of me that easily.  And given the stormy headache I have had since receiving the email, I think that message has been relayed to the whole system through and through.

I am not going to respond to such a passive email.  If she wants me to contact her she will have to beg.  Beg like I did as a child to stop her abusing me.  She will have to get on her hands and knees and plead and take responsibility for what she did and apologise profusely.  I am not going to contact her because she allegedly misses me.  Because, you know, I don’t miss her.

I just have to go against every single screaming cell in my body and not react defensively with this.  The urge is to push everyone away, because if nothing else, this has just brought up the reminder that people aren’t safe.  I am being stopped from reaching out now to any of the self soothing stuff that Cat and I set up before she went away.  My brain is all set to tell her to get lost.  I am not allowed to write in her book.  I am not allowed to cuddle up with stuff that reminds me of her.  I am not allowed to go inside and sit with her.

Realistically, I have to be aware that undoubtedly some parts are angry/upset because we have been thrown into crisis and she hasn’t been there in the capacity we needed her to be.  It is a very egotistical and child-like view for us to be feeling this, but before she went away she said that if there is an emergency, like the mother contacting us, then we can call her.  We have exchanged a few texts but I am left feeling abandoned because she didn’t call back.  It pains me to say it because she is on holiday and the LAST thing I want to do is interrupt her holiday but it just an added element of disappointment on top of every other emotion that is coursing through me today.  I can’t stop the disappointment however much I don’t think it is fair on Cat to be that way.  Benny, Poppy, LJ and I are all really sensitive about people saying something and then not doing it.  It was one of the reasons Poppy pulled us away from the old therapist (Wolf).  The message is bouncing around inside as I type: if you say you are going to do something, then do it, or don’t say it.  We can hang onto words like a rope over a 20 foot fall.  The fall hurts when the rope disappears.

Still so much more to process from this, and the session today, but my head isn’t going to let me do anymore.  Considering it is 1am I am not entirely surprised.

Love to you all,

Bourbon x

Contact from the mother

22 Wednesday May 2013

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On the back of seeing the therapist Cat put in place for us whilst she is away, where we had an incredibly difficult session about witchcraft, ritual abuse, body memories, terror, I receive an email from the mother.

Yes the mother.

10 months of absolutely nothing and then today of all friggen days she emails me on an old account.

“Please let me know you are ok. I miss you
Thanks
mum x”

I wanted to jump off the balcony. I wanted to hurt myself badly.

Why now. Why when Cat is hundreds of miles away from me?

She misses me??! What she misses being emotionally abusive?? She misses me being her dog sitter?? She hardly gave a shit before why does she suddenly give a shit now?? Why did it take TEN MONTHS.

I have closed the account the email came through in.

But I am not okay. I am completely destabilised and wondering how the heck I’m going to manage this.

I have texted Cat to let her know but feel awful interrupting her holiday which is just making me feel worse.

Someone has said to me that it’s what I’ve always wanted – a sign to show she cares. SHE DOESN’T CARE. THAT ISN’T CARE. she’s trying to draw me in like last time and then hit me with the abuse again like last time. Last time we had a fall out like this she told me afterwards she nearly killed herself. What will it be this time?! It doesn’t matter because she’s not going to get that far.

But fuxk her. This is the last thing I needed.

THE. LAST. THING.

Written for LJ

20 Monday May 2013

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20130520-203036.jpgFor some reason LJ has gone a bit blog shy.  But if LJ wasn’t blog shy she’d tell you that we saw Cat for the final session today.  She’d also tell you that we all basically sat on the floor holding hands for 50 minutes.  She’d also tell you that she has become the foster parent for the big grey soft elephant you can see on your left.  She’d also tell you that Raggy was meant to stay away from Ellie the elephant but as you can see it hasn’t really worked.  LJ would also tell you that we have now got a room inside where Cat resides.  It is a very big room full of lots of therapeutic stuff where we can go, at any time, to be ‘held’ by Cat.  In the room are big plants that stretch over the ceiling, big patio doors, mood changing lights, a punching bag, toys, cushions/blankets/bean bags, a cat, a basket for Raggy, a TV with endless DVD’s, books, a fish tank, art equipment, and a bubble-producing warm paddling pool. Oh, and a fan.  For some reason LJ wanted a fan.

This is probably where LJ would sign off.  We are feeling quite heavy but at least we have each other.  And you guys.  At least we have you guys.

 

Hurting

19 Sunday May 2013

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I find myself staring into space with a feeling of dread coursing through me. I am dreading this week and the next. I am busying it up as much as possible knowing full well that when it comes to the crunch almost all my commitments are likely to be cancelled.

I will be living on empty when that is probably the sensation I hate the most. Emptiness eats away at you and burns your core. Emotional emptiness that is. It repeats on you much worse than any acid reflux. I’ve got plenty of gaviscon-type interventions at the ready but I’m still wondering who is going to win. I’m still wondering how battered and bruised one person can feel by themselves for a fortnight.

It is an elephant sat on my chest that only I can see. A heavy weight that feels like it’s threatening to kill me.

I don’t want to face this. I just don’t. This is harder than any memory or truth I have ever had to face before.

I feel I need to remind the world of my age (which isn’t the same as the bodies age). I am about 13 and just struggling, really struggling, with my life support person being taken away from me. This, I feel, is my right.

- a very sad and hurting Bourbon.

Change, not loss

17 Friday May 2013

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There was only really one thing to report about in therapy today; for the first time ever we ended up splayed over the floor, lying on our side/back/front, all sorts. The reason this is monumental enough for me to report is because it means I have lost a great deal of my self consciousness about what I look like when I switch and it means for the first time ever I gave control of the legs and entire body to whoever was in the body. How freeing that is for me. How freeing that is for everyone else.

The pain/pressure of Cat being away for two weeks starting next week is growing within. I mused today in session how strikingly different attachment can be. When I was a teenager my upbringers would go abroad once a year and it was something I REALLY looked forward to. It would never cause me pain to think that they would be gone, I would never miss them, it was just wonderful them being away and us being safe. But with Cat I am dreading her being away even though we will still be in text contact daily. I said that if it was possible I’d quite like to be put in a coma-like sleep for these two weeks so I don’t have to feel this.

Driving to therapy today my thoughts kept going to friendships I’ve lost in the past; offline ones that is. There are quite a few that I remember: Jess, Karen, Lindsay, Katy, Clare… all friends that I once didnt feel I would want to live without, all friends lost in one way or another because of mental illness. From best friends to strangers. It is painful. I proposed that the reason I am feeling the pain of these losses is because of the perceived loss of Cat over these two weeks (and also paranoid fear that she won’t return). However I think I have been viewing this all wrong. Cat going away isnt a loss, it is simply a change.

We are still going to be in contact everyday. We will just have less contact because we won’t see each other twice a week and won’t be talking on the phone every day. That is all. Change, not loss. I think apprehension is the killer here. Isn’t it always. Especially for a change phobic like me. Still, change is an infinitely better way of feeling this than loss. Change not loss may become a mantra for the rest of this month.

Cat bought us a pretty little book though to write in if any thoughts or dreams or memories come up whilst she is away. Writing in there can become a bit of a substitute therapy session. We rely on her to help us ‘hold’ this stuff and in writing it down in her book it is like giving it to her to hold.

Because I still need help to hold all these pieces so that they aren’t too overwhelming.

So here we are, amidst change, not loss.

Love, Bourbon.

Acceptance

15 Wednesday May 2013

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Isn’t it wonderful to hit a place of acceptance? It doesn’t even really matter what the acceptance is about; the relieving feelings are the same every time.  It is like your brain suddenly says: Right, that is it, you don’t have to think about this anymore, it is the way it is and I accept that, and everything is okay.

I can’t actually say the word ‘acceptance’ out loud without coaching from someone else to tell me how to say it.  A psychotherapist I had once found that very interesting/relevant: can’t say it, can’t do it.  In a way I think he was right, accepting is hard to do, but only because I have such big/difficult things to accept.  So the relief of accepting just one of these ‘monsters’ is very boosting.

Yesterday in session Cat said to LJ that she knows it is so unfair that we can’t start again, from scratch, and have her as our mother.  My ears pricked up when I heard this because I have no idea why she said that.  The conversation wasn’t going down that road at all and none of us had given her any idea that we were thinking that way at all.  LJ was unable to really explain this so instead I sent Cat an email today to explain our view of this situation.

Basically, I said to Cat, we have accepted that the mother we had is the mother we have.  Of course it remains to be the case that I don’t want my mother in my life; but that doesn’t take away the fact she is my mother and the only mother I am going to get.  In fact, I don’t want any other mother, I said, especially you.  Introduce a mothering dynamic to what we have and it will all go downhill.  I will end up feeling like I have to please you, make you happy, and that takes away energy from my healing.  And realistically, if it wasn’t for my mother I wouldn’t have met you in the capacity I have done and we wouldn’t have such a good bond with you.  So there is no need to take away anything that has happened in my life, I’m quite happy with the way things have turned out.

But what I do like, I continued, is the idea of you being an auntie figure.  If you want to take this back then let me know, otherwise I find it very innocent and comforting and would quite like it to stick. 

Receiving an email back, when her policy is to not reply to any emails, simply saying ‘the auntie figure is good for me too’ has definitely solidified this acceptance amongst us all.

I have spent about a decade of my life searching for a new mum.  The happiness that has spread through me when I think I have found one, and the disappointment that crawls over me when I realise I haven’t, has been mind-bending.  But actually I think all this time I have been searching for something that I don’t actually want and won’t let in my life.  That is why these mother figures have never really ‘worked out’ because deep down I know the idea of a mother, according to my mind, is dangerous.  ‘Mother’ comes with so much tension and responsibilities from both parties.  I’d rather just give that all a miss really, thankyouverymuch.

The carousel

14 Tuesday May 2013

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I have been having fleeting feelings of suicide in the last few days and tonight I finally find out where they are coming from: LJ.  She sat with Cat this evening actually shaking with emotional pain.  She told Cat she simply wants to run in front of a car.  And other than that she had only one word to say: “lonely”.  The pain in the heart when she was in the body was unbelievable, I have never felt anything like it.  Cat and LJ held hands for a little bit which seemed to salve the pain for a little while.  This was definitely a session where LJ was not interested in words, at all.  She just needed to be held and contained.  She finally broke down into tears when Cat put her arm around her shoulders.  Perhaps she felt safe enough to just let go of the pain whilst Cat was containing her.  I think she feels a bit better now.

Unfortunately, the shock of LJ’s confession seemed to stir up the entire system.  I was then on a 40 minute carousel ride inside; trying desperately hard to return to the room but only managing a few seconds/minutes before I was swept off my feet again by another alter.  The problem was Cat has never witnessed the carousel before and had absolutely no idea what was going on and I wasn’t able to tell her for in the moment I had no idea either.  She wanted me to stay longer and to drink some tea to ground myself but I was lucid enough to know that we had overran considerably and I needed to leave.  I tried my best to assure her I would be okay, between switches, and slowly the carousel calmed down as I sat in the car alone.  I am still not 100% present now but nothing a good sleep won’t fix.

I think it was bound to be a triggering session because a.) I had a nightmare last night that involved men coming to the clinic to attack me (and my parents/sister were there too) and b.) I could smell alcohol in the room which Cat told me is probably right, though she can’t smell anything, but it isn’t her, and she had to reassure us with that point quite a bit.  Alcohol probably still remains to be our biggest trigger and even just remnants of alcohol in the air is enough to send us in a bit of a chaotic mess.

I have apologised profusely to Cat because overrunning that much is a big no-no really in therapy.  Though what Cat and I are doing together has never been just therapy anyway.  But still, there is a lot of guilt considering how abhorrent I feel about myself at the moment and how much I don’t want to inflict myselves on other people.

I really wanted to spend some time tonight catching up with blogs and commenting but I think the only place I need to be right now is in bed.  I feel extremely tired now and am in desperate need of the reset button that comes with sleep.

*****But what I do want to do is a shout-out to Red.  I just want to remind you that I care very very much about you and I am not going to get tired of stuff and turn my back.  I know our contact lately has been a bit stilted because of both of us going through rough times but you are still very much close to my thoughts every day and with every thought comes some warm energy and healing vibes just for you.*****

“I feel love for you”..?

14 Tuesday May 2013

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After a three day veg in bed I managed to drag myself up and out to take Raggy for a walk this afternoon – what a struggle.  It was good to be out, I suppose, but my bed was calling me the whole time.  Things still feel ridiculously heavy and I didn’t realise how much I was actually holding back until I had my daily check in call with Cat and ended up blubbering down the phone for the whole 25 minutes.

It was a tricky phone call because I was asking her really really important questions whilst not being able to trust her answers, at all.  She was saying one thing, and I was hearing another in her voice, and regardless of how much she tried to reassure me that what I thought I was hearing in her voice was complete bolderdash I just kept believing she was lying that little bit more.  In the end I just had to give up and hold what she was saying close to me so that I can keep trying to trust it if and when I feel able to.

The thing is I was ready to quit therapy.  In fact I was ready to quit life.  Things haven’t felt this awful in a good few months and I was just pushing every self destruct button I have.  I am great at kicking myself when I am down.  I am great at pushing away the exact people I need when I need them.

I think I am feeling a lot of grief right now too.  With it being the run up to my birthday I am considering being 26 and where I’m at in life.  I am wondering what my upbringers will do on MY special day.  Will they silently wish me well? I doubt it.  I’m sure I have been cursed (as in verbally, and actually cursed) many a time already.  My mother told me you never cross a witch because they can ALWAYS curse you, whoever and wherever you are.  All they have to do is THINK the curse and with the power of their minds they can make you fall with an extremely painful illness or take away everything you know and love.  My mother took pride in making me see that she is some all-knowing, all-powerful being, and my life depends on me respecting her and keeping her at a safe distance.  Like a couple dancing a tango, the distance has to be perfect.  With me turning my back on the family the distance is no longer perfect.  I am at risk.  Not something I should dwell on too much I don’t think with how unsettled and unstable I am already.

But back to Cat and those really really important questions.  Through tears I told her that I just need to hear that she cares about me.  Through tears I told her that I just wish she would tell me that she loves me, like a mother does to their child.  Through tears I told her that I just want her to hold me; I don’t want a hug, they are too impersonal, I just NEED to be held.

She tried to tell me that she does care and that she does “feel love” for me.  She kept repeating that over and over again: “I do feel love for you, all of you”.  I am trying to work out what that means.  Is that a cop out? To feel love for someone, is that the same as loving someone? I genuinely don’t know and any help on this particular issue would be greatly appreciated. 

She told me that when I sent her the text I did this morning saying that I cried myself to sleep last night in Raggy’s basket with him licking away my tears, she cried.  “Not for you to feel guilty” she said “but you see I do care, otherwise I wouldn’t react to things you say like that”.  My head had a response to that.  The same response as what was being screamed following everything else she said: LIAR.

Cat reckons some parts of me knows that she cares and is angry at that.  “Angry because it is much harder to off yourself when you know people care about you” she said.  And angry because if she cares then how dare she up and leave and go on holiday and leave me in the lurch.  Rationally I don’t think that, I can’t.  But with my attachment issues and my struggles it would be stupid to not expect SOME parts of me to think that exact thing.  Perhaps these parts needs to express this anger at some point this week.  I hope I can step away enough to allow this to happen.

As for being held, she thinks we are (all) ready.  We have known her for nearly a year now (where has that time gone?) and I think we all know and love/trust Cat enough now to know that some physical comfort from her is safe and okay.  It doesn’t mean it is going to happen tomorrow or Friday or anytime before she goes away but that option is now available to us.  She reckons being physically contained and held is very much needed because we were so so starved of that growing up.  We literally had zero experiences of SAFE holding touch.  The mother was NEVER affectionate in words or touch.  When the father was affectionate in touch it was mostly when he was crossing sexual boundaries.  Accepting it from Cat is going to be hard but when the right time comes, I will know.

Hsbbsuwb

13 Monday May 2013

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I have no idea why I am here, writing again, when I should be asleep or at least trying to get that way. But here I am so I’m just going to go with the flow.

I’m wondering tonight why I have been the outcast of society for my entire life.

I’m wondering if I am ever going to feel what it is like to live safely and happily.

I’m wondering if I could just literally take a break from life. A full one. I’m wondering if I could emotionally die for a week or so only to be reborn again.

Wouldn’t it be great if that is the way life works?

I really hate it when people say they are going to do something and then don’t do it. I especially hate it when that person is my therapist. Hey, I know therapists are human but don’t have us hold onto something and then watch us drop and fall whilst you reveal that it was never there in the first place. It’s a long way to fall so it is. The bottom always surprises you with how far away it hides itself.

I’ve taken emergency medication. I know when help is needed. If I stop fighting then I could be asleep now, quite easily. But then I would have to wake up again. And waking up from sleep is more painful than just staying awake to start with.

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