I feel bruised inside. That’s the best way I can describe it: a feeling of being emotionally bruised. And I don’t know why.
There’s a feeling of despondence, of loneliness, aloneness, and loss. I keep on seeing ‘gray skies’ – that is, the skies of Germany when I was a little kid. There’s a feeling of . . . aloneness and lonely wandering; of wanting to ‘be’ and not be at the same time – a confused kid wanders inside.
And that, I suppose is part of the problem. We’re digging him up. And in order to know your ‘children’, it appears you must first know their pain – not only ‘know’ it, but go through it with them . . .
This one whispers echoes of winters gone and having been lost. Of cold and aching aloneness – and a sense of separation from ‘others’ – grasping cold children’s fingers, so to speak – not that they are cold, but in their loneliness they ‘feel’ like children left out in the cold to rot and to die. Hard parts of myself sometimes, I’m thinking . . .
It’s been a rough time – emotionally speaking – while a fine time overall.
It’s this period between 10-13, 12-13, somewhere in there, and 14 as well – we’re trying to get a handle on it. That’s one of the problems with our DID; some parts of us are ‘other’ parts instead; one will be lurking where another three are hiding – it’s always in threes sometimes . . .
We’re thinking little Mikie is helping in “pushing him forward” – trying to help us bring ‘him’ to mind, this morose strange being we have inside; this preteenage kid.
Part of being DID – and why this is so important – is because without ‘him’ we are incomplete; without ‘him’ we are not only a fractured being, but a being who is missing parts – a person with some parts ‘gone’ or ‘missing’ or unable to self-express. This explains our lack in some things – vital human elements, it appears – which often leads to disaster. Either that or it’s a self-destructive thing – we don’t know.
It’s been a SNAFU sort of week; that’s for sure – switching and going all over. Making love – we switch to ‘the kid’ (little Mikie) in the middle of things going on – and ‘injure’ him (only slightly; he shouldn’t have been there in the first place; we kinda messed up – he is so willing to please – what should have turned into a snuggling session turned into something else indeed) – but he’s okay (fine kid) – only grossing him out a little . . . we bounce back readily this time, only blaming ourself (not the wife). Lack of ‘control’ – that’s the thing – and in part that’s because we are so intent on working this one out.
Heart heard, heart hurt – that’s kinda how it goes; the subconscious mind perhaps thinking – and we are bearing the brunt of some things. That’s the thing about “3 on Top” – you can only have 3 persons ‘on top’ on anything; the rest are all processing (thinking, debating, arguing, loving, laughing, playing . . . the list goes on) in the ‘background’ – which yields weird thoughts sometimes; some rather weird associations in our mind (which yields some rather odd looks sometimes when someone will say something – and we give them another answer than the one they were expecting – sometimes three or four questions ahead of the game) . . .
One of our friends says he tells people the best way he knows to describe me is that I come from “The Far Side”. A little bit off and a little bit odd – but (as he’s told me), he loves the way I think: coming up with unique and useful solutions which cut down to the quick of things; getting them ‘done’ quite quickly . . .
Maybe that’s got a little to do with feeling bruised – feeling left out ‘outside’. The sense of being not just a ‘little bit different’ – but strange; not a socially acceptable person no more – and yet we get along with others – but at the same time retreating into our own head and thinking things . . .
Oh well. Headaches again; tough time processing “13” (his age and his number? Only his age we are thinking; he has ‘chosen’ this number for all it’s old indications and connotations – that 13 (like him) is an unlucky number; it is his ‘age’ inside; he’s a torn up kind of being for a 13 year old kid – a composite of other beings (Mikie is his guider; 13 – or Jeremy – is himself – and then there’s another – perhaps 14 – or Matthew – coming on . . .)
In part we have made this harder by trying to ‘diminish’ him – slicing and dicing, trying to assign to ‘others’ parts of him. That is because / the reason is because we don’t ‘want’ him anymore (and yet are willing and wanting to accept him) – but we didn’t want yet another in the system – trying to ‘define’ and sort him into one of the others hasn’t been working – we’ve whittled away the edges until only the core ‘being’ of that time remains . . .
Defining the ‘before him’ and ‘after him’ as well as we can. If you know what I mean. Scraping the traces of some ‘others’ off of him – trying to let him stand as he were – alone, for all of ‘them’ (ourselves) to see – hard thing to do; getting him naked in the sunlight for closer scrutiny; taking a ‘part’ of ourselves ‘apart’ to see what makes him tick inside – and doing so very gently, for we do not wish to damage another one of ourselves (As we did to Mikie for so long) . . .
And so we shall see. 13’s mixed bag of emotions feels a lot like ‘ours’ – that is, that blue funk; that endless ‘being’ of gray skies and loneliness and no love – not for ourselves, nor inside nor out – a gray being; just a kid trying to survive . . . a stranger in a stranger land . . . that was him, and that was us, way back when we were 13.
And so it seems: (and most appropriate for Halloween): we are on a grave hunt; we’re gonna be ‘digging him up’ – trying to reestablish this connection with what we once were . . . in an effort to heal him.
Wish us luck.