The Lineage Project

It’s been almost one year, and still I haven’t finished “The Lineage Project”.  Heck, I’ve barely begun!  To scratch the surface is like scratching my mind – not my head, mind you (ignoring the puny pun in there) – but my mind.  Pulling things up by the roots and seeing what connects them.  Figuring out not only ‘who’s who’ but what ‘they’ do, if anything – for me, against ‘me’ or whatever.  Like most ‘human beings’ therein lays part of the problem: they are dynamic ‘beings’ or whatever.

Baby beget Toddler beget (little) Michael who started disassociating.  By the time he was 3 he was rather good; started ‘splitting’ before he was even 5.

This little being (our ‘original’ host) went on to create some others: the Soldier (I can never decided whether to capitalize the “the” in that one) and perhaps #9, who converted then into Jeremy (I think that’s because that word rhymes with Germany) – who was an entity created solely for dealing with the Germans and their German environment at the time.

Lets back up a little here; we’re getting ahead of our story and lineage ‘line’.

Before the age of nine – but definitely by the time he was ten – little Michael (our inner host child) created ‘another one’ of him using a method we’ve come to call “quining” – sorta duplicating himself and leaving ‘some parts’ behind.  Meanwhile little Michael took shelter ‘behind’ this ‘wonderful being’, “Little Mikie”, the boy he wished he could become!  And it’s been like that for many years: our inner one, hiding and adjusting his facade to suit the circumstances as he needed them to.  (Clever child of mine! <- We and I and some of our Group are into praising him; it was indeed something he had to do.)

As a result of this ‘being’ being built – this inner child creating this ‘false front’ – or MASK that he had to wear – wearing one at home and one at school and one on base in front of the folks who were observing him; one for the Germans and the society and/or culture he was in . . . each time building a new ‘mask’ and building a new ‘him’.

Not that things always ‘got stuck’ in his mind.  Some disappeared rather rapidly, others hung on.  That was dependent on how long we’d be in some place – at some duty station, some new civilization and/or level of said civilization, traveling through time through poverty and poor to plenty and well-being and back again, bouncing like a yo-yo through cultures and lifestyles with nobody to depend on – just the basics: food, clothing, shelter, medical attention when necessary – that was my parent’s definition of love.  Getting ‘too close’ was not allowed.  “Children aren’t meant to been seen NOR heard,” I often heard my mom’s mouth saying.  Our dad just ignored us, tied up in his own selfish little world.

And then there was the military thing going on.

So Samuel beget Michael beget another being. (that’s just a random phrase in my head; I’m really not sure ‘who’ Samuel is, though he is one of two Jewish beings inside of us.  The ‘other’ one is a girl; Sarah, and then there’s their mother Aoele’ – and ‘we’ all know where ‘she’ came from!  She was made from my MOM-witch (not unlike an evil sandwich, all evil and hissing and such) – where we ‘got rid of’ the bad side by burying it in some rocks and declaring that one insane (tho’ she still hisses in our ear from time to time) . . . but that was only one year ago . . .

way off track on our lineage. . .

So here come little Michael – arrives in Germany, and he’s already got these three ‘beings’ within him: the Soldier, “Little Mikie” (wanting to please anybody – and by please I mean he would do it in a sexual way if someone wanted him to, and he often mistook it as love) . . . and ‘another one’ – a being that was half-formed during our time in North Carolina (that would be #9) – who, half-transformed, frozen and then ‘put up’ for some time, came out, looked around – found himself in this foreign land, perhaps gave ‘himself’ the name ‘Jeremy’ . . . meanwhile ‘little Michael’ (the original child) is rapidly fading to the back of my mind; meanwhile “Little Mikie” is stepping forward and ‘strutting his stuff’ (meaning he ‘invented’ the Scientist dudes and (perhaps) “the Recorder Mind” (another stuffy old being inside of my head) . . . who records everything we’ve been doing, writing, reading, written . . . going on in my head and behind.

Stubborn guy, that one.  Won’t let anyone access ALL of them files except for some ‘secret’ minds . . . those were developed around the age of 21 I’m thinking; but “21” was also a personality of mine/mind . . . which probably didn’t actually ’emerge’ until I was 24 or so . . . which explains “24” (another person in my mind, or perhaps the system attempting to do some autocorrection) – those were very difficult times, mind you, and a lot of changes were happening, both internally and in ‘our world’. (For one thing I got out of the Marine Corps when I was 24 – surprised I wasn’t dead! – and went on to become – or HAD been adopted into a family ‘of mine’ – some folks with kids who took me in and taught me I could be loved.  That was a really big thing . . .

Kinda lost them over time due to that wife of mine; long story short: I’m still hurtin’ from that and sometimes wonder: what if I had never left them?  Their story would be different and so would be mine . . .

Like Robert Frost once said: the road less taken . . .

one that I’ve been on . . . for a long, long time.

(weary and resting my head; suddenly tired and sorta depressed within: but the wife just came home – tell me things don’t work out! – so I’m soon gonna be much better.)

and PS . . .
we never did finish that lineage . . .

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About jeffssong

JW is an adult childhood abuse survivor with DID*. He grew up in a violent family devoid of love and affection. He is a military brat and veteran. He no longer struggles with that past. In 1976 JW began writing "The Boy". It took 34 years to complete. It is currently on Kindle (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004T3IVKK ), or if you prefer hard copy, on Amazon ( http://www.amazon.com/Boy-J-W/dp/1461022681). JW resides somewhere in the deep South. He is disabled and living with family. Note: Please feel free to take what you need; all is free to all. With that in mind, keep it that way to others. Thank you. We have 3 Blogs - One for our younger days, 0-10 (The Little Shop of Horrors); one for our Teen Alter and his 'friends' (also alters) with a lot of poetry; and finally "my" own, the Song of Life (current events and things)
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2 Responses to The Lineage Project

  1. Michael says:

    I like the quining term. That is something I know right when it started although I do not know the age. It was before age 3 1/2 as we moved from this place at that age. Actually I may be wrong about that. That is based on when my father graduated from college. We might have stayed in college housing which was a condemned barracks.

    Anyway there was a music box that was outside the fence. We wanted to look at it. We knew we could not go out the gate that was not allowed. No one said anything about tunneling under the fence. One of us stayed inside the fence and therefore followed the rules. Another one of us went and got the music box and brought it back. It was kinda a jack in the box with out the jack popping out. It was reddish orange with a clown on the front and rings and balls painted on the back. It had a wooden knob on the crank. I think it played Mary had a little lamb.

    Someone had dropped the music box and I did not get to keep it. One was created to be mad about that and that was tied into having every toy which was not that many destroyed by the programmer. When we were 3 1/2 we had two toys. A top and a whistle. Both came from Cracker box. Red an Blue whistle with a star on the side of it. A clear plastic top.

    Journey on,

    Michael

    Like

    • jeffssong says:

      I don’t know where I learned the term “quining” (as in ‘to quine’) – I had to look it up last year when I first used it; that and “lambda” (said 3 times) – and I was amused & surprised & bothered a lot by it when I found what the definition is: “A computer program that reproduces itself” – and the second one runs on. I know this from my computer programing, and ‘lambda’ was used in LISP But I don’t recall ever using the lambda function. I was a cut ‘n hack kind of writer, grabbing code where I could and patching it together.
      However, in terms of multiple personalities, both ‘lambda’ and ‘quine’ could have a quite ‘literal’ function in terms of thoughts and our head(s) (lol’ing). A ‘copy’ is made – a ‘checkpoint’ for us in some cases (facing/given a ‘go back to’ command or arriving at a destination where ‘we’ need to change to exhibit some other type/kind of exterior being, reflecting the culture we are in; guaranteeing ‘safe’ passage (hopefully) in/through or while living in that sort of thing; enabling us to go under cover somewhat – no one ever expects (or suspects) a small child of doing a thing . . . much less knowing how to take away that sub-machine gun you’ve been holding and then use the thing (lol!).

      Crazy people back then, but then again: we were on the front during the cold war – only 15 miles away from the border of East Germany; living on a military base and things (guaranteed to be attacked, in other words) . . . whutta ya gonna do? To give ‘your’ children, ‘the children’ their best chance to survive? Knowing the fathers – the mothers – are probably gonna be ‘gone’ (the fathers). The kids were expected to ‘fight the war’ or at least continue it on while they made their way to some bases or the coast in hope of being rescued – if they survived the nuclear bombs. And somewhere – ‘burnt’ into this – is ‘preserve the American way’, patriotism, freedom, liberty, fairness; rightness – that kind of thing.

      (shrugging) Training. A fat lot of good it did us. It was funny when I joined the Corps. A lifer Navy Corpsman who knew me from childhood and met me during graduation from boot camp still says I’m the only person he ever knew that came out of boot camp unchanged. But I changed them. (soft smile). I was more than ready for the Marines . . . (big laugh!) – but boy . . . were they ready for me? I kinda doubt it.

      Have fun, journey on . . . now I got some real writing to do. (soft smile, slightly troubled, strange weekend ahead and behind).

      Like

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