If you don’t know me by now, welcome to the world of DID where everything is in reverse some of the time, like Alice looking into the Looking Glass Mirror. Where age doesn’t mean a thing, size and gender don’t matter. Where the oldest is the youngest, and the youngest the current mind.
Where ‘father’ becomes ‘son’ to someone.
My wife made a wry face when I was explaining it to her a long time ago.
“You see, the oldest ones – the ‘parts’ that have been around the longest – are the youngest – and “I”, while the ‘oldest’ (both biologically speaking, in temperament and that kind of stuff) – am the youngest of all. After all, it makes sense if you think how ‘we’ were created – the child came first so his ‘mind’ came first – he was the first ‘host’ after all . . . then along comes along the ‘teenager’s’ mind . . . and then me. Each one ‘creating’ the other and then sorta throwing in the towel . . . so in a ‘way’ the ‘son’ (for I feel my ‘younger’ ones are like sons of mine) created the ‘father figure’ (which is me.).” (I had another one for quite a while, but he died – another mistake on the VA’s part.)
I ‘almost’ adopted my brother-in-law as a ‘father’ because he was such a wonderful teacher for ‘me’ and ‘mine’ on becoming civilized (a former CIA agent who may have . . . or was – a ‘trainer’) . . . but things went wrong over there (he was being much too abusive to me and mine). So I dumped him. (Dumped them all; he had ‘several’ going on in him as well, I’m sorta kinda quite certain. That or there was a group of them.)
But . . . that’s something to realize when you’re dealing with a DID sort of system: the ‘younger ones’ are actually the oldest personalities under the hood; and the ‘younger’ ones are usually the adults and things – that’s because the older ones didn’t give ‘birth’ to the younger; it’s the other way around. Little by little the ‘younger’ ones had to yield control to somebody – somebody who could make sense of the world around them; sometimes perhaps to the degree of building their own world around them (we did in some ways). So they built the next one down the line – another personality to ‘suit them’ and one which could deal with things & the outside world . . .
In some cases (okay, in my case; I’m not assuming any others), these ‘alternate’ personalities were built on assumptions; in some cases they were built to be ‘friends’ and supporters of mind (the science guys, for instance; or The Recorder, who has been around for such a long while that I first noticed ‘him’ in third grade . . . and then again real big time during my teenagehood. An old man, that one is; recording ‘just the facts, ma’am – all the time’. Pretty useful and handy in a situation requiring technical facts and ‘things’ (survival knowledge is one of them.) And ‘he’ remembers everything we’ve ever ‘read’ or written – even if ‘we’ don’t remember it long . . .
Makes for a pretty damn fine memory if the thing weren’t shot so damn full of holes. (Most of them come from our abusive past and ???? something else?? I keep seeing flashes of my dad’s “hypnotism” days (I can ‘feel’ a daze in one of my little ones) and “seeing” stuff going on (mostly due to war and things . . . training perhaps?)
LOL, I told the home nurse today: “My bones are rather strong.”
Yeah, they poked me with a needle one time and it broke on the bone. Never broke a bone in my life except a few toes and fingers . . . calcium in the diet big time when I was young; I remember that thing: eating plenty of cottage cheese and milk all the time . . .
They were preparing me for ‘something to come’.
Never did of course; such are a paranoid (and paranoia military’s) fears . . . trying to prepare for something that might not come . . . because you’re better off being prepared than not . . .
kinda extended to us little children overseas some of the times.
LOL, getting way off subject here . . . still working on ‘defusing’ my mind; Matthew, our internal teenager, is ‘sore’ – or ‘we’ are sore on the inside from ‘him’ – as well as ‘his’ (and “13’s”) rage yesterday – a few cut knuckles, scraped skin – 3 busted solar lights by the way! (loling- glad they only cost a buck-and-a-half a pop – and I mean a real pop right there, ladies and gentlemen! Sent those things flying all across the yard! lol’ing some – but it ain’t so funny anyone . . .)
Shoulders still sore; back and neck – that’s what I get for chunking bricks at the playhouse and furniture around. At least I kept it ‘safe’ – managed to even get a few things ‘done’ – meaning I manage (sort of) to direct most of my anger towards doing something ‘safe’ – getting rid of a few boxes of ‘junk’ that had gotten ruined by the rain . . .
but I am sorely gonna miss that bench that set outside my shop (it was utterly ruined anyway . . . but I threw out the side ends – which I would need if I was going to repair it – and somebody took them from up at the road) . . .
Me and my wife agree on one thing: ‘we’ need to get a ‘handle’ on ‘this one’ – meaning the teenager’s rages and things. My wife thought it would be a good idea ignoring it (this hasn’t been the first time) – “letting you work things out” she said, but as I pointed out: it isn’t curing anything. It doesn’t solve anything. I gotta move past that rage into something else.
Oddly enough I think it should be grieving. And perhaps my wife can help me with that. But it’s gonna take the right approach at the right time – a hard time because I’ll probably be raging (“You might oughta duck sometimes,” I told her. “While I’m not into hurting anybody – and I certainly wouldn’t want to harm you! – I can lose control of what I’m doing . . .”
But she knows: taming ‘me’ and the beast inside is kinda like “Beauty and the Beast” – she knows I would never intentionally harm her, nor allow any harm to befall her; not at my behest; however, harm could come to her by me (or a part inside of me) – accidently/blindly – stupidly – lashing out despite all ‘our’ agreements to never harm her, nor any of my children in any way if humanly possible at all times until the end of my life.” (we have set up some rather explicit and complicated agreements among ourselves from time to time; they are the things that bind us).
And the thing is . . . she’s gonna have to address HIM – the teenager self – and ‘prove’ to him he can be (and is) still loved somewhere deep inside of herself (it’s a really hard thing to do, especially for my teenager self to accept and understand). That simply means holding his hand – grabbing him, if necessary – and hugging us ‘all’ so tightly . . .
and that, I think might just ‘do it’ – break through that final door we need to get through to continue on healing . . . instead of ‘bad advice’ – which is what her instincts – and most people’s instincts would tell them to do: attack, defend, or be harsh with ‘him’ when he gets ‘out of control’ (albeit a little; we manage to control him a little while). And to ‘accept’ embrace and love instead (which is what ‘we’ have been doing inside; ‘we’ are very concerned for ‘our’ teenager’s feelings; how that ‘part’ of ourself sees the world and ‘sees’ himself). Getting him to give up on the understanding of love – and simply accepting it – is a hard sort of thing – “13” created ‘him’ (Matthew, our teenage being) to hate love, avoiding it – giving up on the human race – and a whole lot of ‘negative’ things which in a way made our teen a lot ‘stronger’ – both in the outside world (he is a survivor delux; professional being as he studied it so hard for so many hears) . . . but on the other hand ‘he’ is a softie, wanting love . . . the thing he ‘couldn’t have’ for so long (until ‘we’ were 24, tho’ we started on that when we were ’21’ and ‘he’ lost control of ‘us’).
Anyway . . . another entry and another window into yet another crazy mind.
Hope you enjoy.