The Little Dog: An Animal Lab Story


The little dog danced in the cage, the hard concrete scuffing his paws, then dropped down to a play bow, his eyes desperate and staring at me through the chain link wire.  He then sat up and begged, his little arms crossing.  All the while he kept sniffing the air, tainted with astringent antiseptic and the smell of canine shit.  And there was something else; no doubt he knew it, for he could smell it: blood, and the smell of death – EVERYWHERE, even emanating from the white painted concrete block and suspended ceilings above him.  He fur was white, matted, curly at the end, done up in ‘frocks’ and twists; scruffy, a bit, but with a cute bristle brush mustache, not much larger than 18, 20 pounds.

He was but one of many, many in a line of dogs I’ve killed, or helped to “do in” – whether while volunteering during Army medical research, or for a paycheck later on, I found myself sometimes facing these strays that “they” had brought in – only the best!  The happiest, most healthy and friendly . . . the ones who had got lost on their way home and found no owner to claim them at the pound, or else escaped from their own back yard on a lark & a frolic and found themselves at the end of a chain, then locked in a van . . .

This one danced beseechingly for me, begging me in the only way he knew how – for what? He knew not what, only this was a “bad place” and none of his neighbors loved him.  For how could they?  All were in the same such delicate situation as he: brought in by the back door, knocked out, given some injections, voice box “removed”, meaning altered by snipping one of the vocal cords (the dogs never seemed to know this, amazing to me! – they would continue on as always, only huffing instead of full throated roars) . . . then waking up in a cage, sprayed down with water from time to time, called a “good boy” and then thrust or walked out of his cage into some new kind of torture device . . .

Or in this case, simply going to be put down as part of an experiment in transmitted disease in which the scientists and doctors were trying to determine exactly where in the intestines the toxins were being absorbed.  I won’t bore you with the procedure; only that it was fatal.

And so the little dog danced and bowed and begged . . . as I got ready to take him to surgery.  And he wasn’t the only one like that; there were many of them, lost dogs, broken dogs, mean dogs, confused ones – especially confused – though for the most part they seemed “happy” when left alone in a group.

I liked working there, even though I was a volunteer.  The idea was to get some experience on my way to becoming a vet, and it worked.  Too bad I ran out of money before I could become one.

But the thing is, even now, here, some 30 years later, meeting my daughter’s little dog (I am astounded at how intelligent this little creature is! So many behaviors seem to have been bred in . . .) – and he does his little tricks for me.  I see him “standing” there, perched in a little pose, and my mind goes back to one little scruffy and sweet little animal begging in his cage . . .

And despite it being grim, my heart breaks a bit again, and I treat THIS dog and every dog I meet very, very kindly, and with the proper respect a young fellow human being deserves.

And I always tell him he’s a good dog, and we’re all going to Heaven, where I am expecting to see some other dogs again.

And I am especially hoping to see some little scruffy one, about 18-20 pounds, with white & curly hair, looking at me with begging and hopefully forgiving eyes (I had no more choice than you, my friend!) and we both can be released together.

sleeping_dog_cute_beautiful_animal_adorable_cavoodle_cavapoo-333909.jpg!d

Image Courtesy pxhere.com/en/photo/333909

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Posted in 13, child abuse survivor, depression, Matthew, Military | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

DID Detectives: Knowing When Something is “Off” In the ‘System’


How To Know Something is Wrong in a D.I.D. System

How Do You Know Something is “Wrong”?

To put it simply: you experience intrusive and/or inappropriate thoughts and/or emotions for a prolonged period.  IF you are D.I.D. and are suffering from inexplicable angers, emotions like sadness or depression, or thoughts of self-harm – even though there is nothing really WRONG with your life, et all – it might be an “alter” or a part of you is having a problem, and this is an issue you can determine yourself, perhaps.

To give you an example, let use “13”*, an alter which appears to be giving ‘us’ trouble.

From A Host’s Perspective (M3):
A few weeks ago – almost a month, my patience seemed to start to get thinner and thinner.  I found myself making snide & hurtful remarks, or unthoughtful ones sometimes towards, or about, friends & family, including “myself” and towards others.

I began noticing (along with several of my child alters) “we” were thinking “bad” or negative thoughts about people.  Over 3 weeks I noticed it getting worse and worse.  There are a few stresses involving parents & parental care which we’ve been taking care of, both internally & externally.   e.g. There was a major blowup involving us & our mom, and we had to draw strict boundaries, which also upset her.  (Some of ‘us’ are practicing the “apathy” thing, lol!)

So after 3 weeks “I” and some ‘other’ alters said: “What’s up?”  After all, you can’t be both mad and happy at the same time . . .

Unless you are D.I.D. 😉

Sometimes when ONE of you is mad, or angered the host or whole system feels these situation inappropriate angers, dark thoughts, and rages despite there being no reason for them.

That is a sign that an alter has gotten pissed.  You’ve got to figure it out, and that might mean journaling, or writing like ‘we’ do here.  “We” have learned to pay attention to them, find out what their ‘needs’ are, what “they” want.  Sometimes it’s just recognition.   Sometimes there IS a problem in your life, or at least what appears a problem to “that” part and/or aspect of your person.  And it is up to YOU and your “others” and your host to  figure out what to do, how to resolve it in a way that makes you and your parts happy.  It has to mean NOT destroying your life or doing harmful things, being antisocial, unwise in your decisions, or unlawful and/or self-destructive behavior, etc.   That includes  strange urges to go on shopping sprees, or go on a cross-country drive that goes on for weeks or months that might adversely affect your family.  It may involve unwise spending, etc., like suddenly thinking you are a genius at the Lotto when you aren’t – which can harm ‘you’, the overall ‘being’ that you all are and really want, deep down, to continue to be.

I think most alters & D.I.D. systems know what I am talking about.  Those ‘moods’ that suddenly descend upon you, or sudden angers directed at what ???? – you cast around & cannot find the source, that type of thing.  (Usually I find those sudden angers & types of thoughts which I “think” are directed outwards are sometimes, if not at all times, directed from one “part” inside against or for another ‘part’ or behavior “thing”.)

And this is WHY BEING D.I.D. is a BURDEN.  When you are D.I.D. you must pay attention to “you”: your moods and nature, even your thoughts and/or behavior, and, when they are disturbing or troubling to your or others, be willing to dig INTO yourself, pull those problems up by their roots, and examine them.  Personally I (Jeff & the other adult alter, M3) as well as a few of our logical (aka “scientists”) selves thing everyone should do this from time to time: examine their own feelings and figure out where they come from, where the thought patterns that spawn them come from – for perceptions lead to emotions, which can color perceptions, an’ ’round ‘n round it goes . . .

Unfortunately it seems only insane people do this: taking themselves apart to the last cog and wheel and figuring out what makes them go ’round and which way, for what, and when.  I encourage monominds and all minds to explore themselves, especially when it comes to feelings of fear, anger, enraging themselves with disgust and horror for something as simple as “you fill in the blank” . . . humans, et all.  Everyone should take themselves apart from time to time, dusting off the gears and making sure they are all all right inside, making sure “everyone” inside is “okay” in their own little world(s) and their own little way(s).

Especially when negative emotions are involved.

FOR a D.I.D. person, or person living under a B.P.D. or M.P.D., or DDNOS Diagnosis:

Remember to stop and look “inside” from time to time.  Query alters, motives, thoughts, and thought patterns.  This especially holds true when those are strings of negative or ‘intrusive’ unwanted thoughts regarding torture, inappropriate activity, or inhuman (or inhumane) etc. that anyone with one of the above diagnoses may have, or one of their “alter” or “insiders” or selves are complaining about, or the host of the system, or system itself seems to be experiencing over a period of time.

Only YOU can often know when YOUR system is unhappy when you aren’t feeling too happy, or have intrusive, angry thoughts – despite there basically being nothing wrong in your life, no threats on the horizon.  You need to start investigating your alters & their emotional conditions, thoughts, etc. whenever you have emotions or desires which are not good for “your selves”, are harmful, and interfere with your goodwill & happiness.  Don’t be scared to “go in”, write, do yoga & meditate, whatever you may need to do for you to live life content and with some modicum of happiness.  Because remember: Happiness is the golden ring.   It is what governs every human action.  And you CAN get yours if you try – you, parts and all.

sunny


  • See our last post regarding that part of ‘my’ personality which has, was, and is so compartmentalized the rest of ‘me’ had to give ‘it’ a name . . . though it was, and to some extant still is a little ‘person’ within ‘ourselves.
Posted in Alters, Anger, Counselors, depression, DID, DID Detective, dissociative identity disorder, mental health, MPD, therapy | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

DID Detectives: “13”, the Alter


When we started blogging again many of my ‘parts’ knew something was up.  We rarely write in our journals unless there is some sort of upset, or an issue (or issues) which need addressed within our DID system, or, as I ‘hear’ 13’s voice whispering, the DID “Machine”.

First, what is known about “13”?

13 is/was evolved from the little boy when he returned from Europe and living on Army bases during the Cold War, including a small Army airbase which was devoted to spying on the East Germans.  “He” (13) was ‘created’ . . .  well, that’s a good puzzle, which is why I am writing this down. Dissecting alters one by one needs to be done by any sane person, or even an insane one, which is why “I” am here.  The first step usually is

Identify Where or What “person” or Personality created this alter.

In our case we suspect it was M1, who three years prior had found his butt yanked from the sand hills of midland Georgia – a really “Deliverance” lifestyle – into the military one of “Army” and “World”.  This little boy, yanked from school to school and across the land hand to come up with a way to cope, and in this instance it went towards forming a “person” or “personality” for each environment – and there were a lot of them!  First his “familial” environment, or that peculiar environment unique to one’s family; then the “culture” – of which there were several just on the military base! – foreign, enlisted, officer class, Army soldiers, and of course “Krautland” (the German civilian world) which lay right over the fence.  There were the school environments, and of course the cliche’s & groups within them – much different than your civilian schools, a parent’s rank segregated them more than creed, race, or color did.  This was a very strange environment for a little kid.

Add in the trauma. :-/ Boy gets jerked around – over 6 moves in 1 year, then settling on this ‘spy base‘ where, indeed, the CIA was working and nuclear bombs were stored.  Boy is handed survival manuals and trained in light weight guerilla warfare, trains with the G.I.’s out in the field, told he’s gonna have to be & do something out of “Red Dawn” – spurring other children to war, leading them, all the while trying to get back home while battling the Russians . . . then his father betrays them, and he loses his best (and only) good friend . . .

A strange world indeed, and true.

So we come home, find ourselves in this “new” environment, only it’s the old one (we returned for a short while to “the Hood”), got jerked once more – from one school we hated to one we hated even more; then the parents divorced . . .

and THAT’S more or less when 13 was formed, or born.  And I (M3, adult host) remember quite clearly – heck, we all do! – when one day in Mr. Bell’s class, 13, fed up, 13 comes up with a solution.

“I will feel no more emotions,” he decided, and wrote this diatribe against them, love – everything.

“I will become a Machine,” he decided.

And he damn well near did.

For the next YEAR – and I mean it, a whole year – “we” holed up as best we all could – life went on on the outside – but at that instant, in that home room science class, under Mr. Bell’s callous tutelage, “we” all gave up, were bound, mouths taped, put in mental closets.  Love disappeared from our life.  *EVERYTHING* disappeared, emotionally.

My parents became concerned because we rarely, if ever went out.

It was “done” rather quickly, and (tada!) – just lately we’ve figured out a mystery.

See the graphic below?  It was done some years back.  “We” didn’t know “who” was in it, or exactly what it meant.  All “we” knew is/was that it (the human figure) was the Controller of “the Machine” or “us all”, affecting and influencing our every decision on up into our 20’s.  This is a the picture in question:

woodome5We knew that the boy on the screen was “8”, or the original host which survived from 5 until about 10.  In one picture, partially hidden, he (the little boy) is screaming in agony.

But here’s the thing.  That “person” controlling?  We did not have a clue until last week – about 5 days ago.  THAT IS 13 standing there “controlling”.  He is “in” his “Machine” that he built, the one that was supposed to keep us ‘safe’ – and did – for almost a decade and a half.  And it very nearly cost us all our lives.  Life “in there” was oppressive.  Think: “no emotions” – but not really.  Tortured by shadows of emotions and real ones would be more like it.  And eventually the Machine broke down and did this:

machineYup.  It broke down.  And “we” all escaped and wandered for about a year in a desert landscape in our mind . . .

meanwhile in REAL life we began to try to kill ourselves in order to avoid the love we’d found . . .

For “for real” three children came in our lives . . . and unknowingly began to save us.

 

And that’s a very for real story right there.

13.  He’s the source(s) of our ‘trouble’ – but it isn’t trouble – but it is.  “13” is still frozen like a machine, perhaps even ‘in’ the hulk left above.  “He”, or “it”, this former Controller (Host) Alter still has quite a bit of pull and influence our all our lives, as all former host alters do.  “We” have to figure out what is the problem, the trouble.  Is it merely time to “tell his story”?  If so are we going to have to blog on “The Little Shop Of Horrors” again?  It needs done . . .  but currently “he” (13) views THAT blog as the history of “the little boy”, the alters before “him”.  And then there’s this:

13 is the author & creator of “The Beast”, which is one of our most terrible alters of all. :-/  This comes from 1) his Cold War training, and 2) Him turning all his emotions “off”.  There is no empathy, just pure logic . . . and a cold hard thin blade of emotion we do not understand, nor what it is directed towards.

Such is the life of a DID Detective.  Always some more work to be done, and this “case” is taking such a long time . . . yet we manage to enjoy it anyway now. 🙂  Just another puzzle in the pieces of a puzzle . . . another problem, yet not a problem to be solved.

 

Posted in 13, Alters, DID, DID Detective, dissociative identity disorder, Life | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

DID: DDNOS, BPD, MPD . . . I Feel Like A Traveling Bag


You ever seen one of those worn out old suitcases at the airport?  You know the one with all the stickers, some ragged & tagged, still on it, showing its travels around the world & to parts unknown?  Sometimes “I” feel like that bag with all these labels showing: DDNOS, PTSD, MPD/BPD, ASCA, CAS, ex-USMC ;-), etc., ad alphabet soup.  (Shall we play Boggle with those terms?  Might be fun. 😉 ).

Officially, if a shrink or therapist were to question me right now, today, they would doubtlessly smack me on the head with their magic wand and dub thee: “DDNOS”.   If, on the other hand, that same shrink or therapist were to meet one of us in our “moods”, they would definitely lean towards the “BPD”, or even “MPD” version of DID’ness.  Sometimes I feel “they” – NIMH, NAMI & others – did a disservice lumping all the sub-diagnoses ( diagnosi?) under one giant label “D.I.D.”, or “Dissociative Identity Disorder”, but in a way it makes sense.  In every description it is about distancing yourself from . . . something.  And often that “something” was something “you” (or a part of you) had to deal with.  Whether it was “love” as a child or the lack of said same; being hung upside down & beaten, whatever – you had no choice but to “go on and deal with it”.  In some cases it lead to compartmentalization of mood states, mind states, mental states, emotional states, and throw them all in a blender and call the range of symptoms (and every combination thereof) “Dissociative Identity Disorder”.  But it’s not always a DISORDER!  Sometimes it’s a Diagnosis.  Other times a Disease.  (You can go here to find my view on those subtle variations in D.I.D. and those living with it.  Many of us are quite productive citizens and you ‘normals’ would never know . . .)

To make matters even more complicated, within each ‘sub-category’ is a list of “states”, or “disorder” symptoms, or “disease” symptoms, depending on how it is affecting the patient(s) – whether it is harming them or not, whether they are “all” happy in “their” (the patient’s) head.

On one site (http://www.healthyplace.com) under amnesia symptoms alone they have SEVEN different types of amnesia categorized, not to mention other symptoms:

  1. Dissociative amnesia
  2. Localized amnesia
  3. Selective amnesia
  4. Generalized amnesia
  5. Continuous amnesia
  6. Systemized amnesia
  7. Dissociative amnesia with fugue

On the “Discussing Dissociation” ( A WordPress Blog), the author, Kathy Brody, a DID Systems Specialist (which is a nice way of putting it – that’s what us hosts or controlling ‘beings’ / alters are supposed to do! LOL!) talks about “20 Types of Dissociative Splits“.   By the way, I highly recommend ANYONE WITH D.I.D. TO READ THAT.   While having “labels” for the types of alters/beings/souls/whatever-you-want-to-call-them helps, it is pretty much vital for mapping a system and defining your various alters’ lineage – who “controls” who, who can work with who; who influence & who dominates, who controls what talent.

For an example, if I could could rip the cover off & expose all the gears, you’d see Matthew, our “teen host”, who ran from the time “13” created him – an intentional effort, we can all remember the day! – and then hid inside.  “13” is still very much a pressure in our system.  So is the little one, #8, an original host who shielded himself in another alter he created, “Mikie”.   Nested like dolls, they are, or creatures with costumes.  For a long time we thought “Mikie” was the host from 5 to 10ish.  It took us a long time to figure out “Mikie” wasn’t REALLY the host back at that time.

Our clue was that Mikie was TOO perfect.  Shy, but outgoing, sort of, in a cute way – always loving a bit TOO much – he’d drop his drawers for anyone almost any day without shame or remorse.  The “original” child had learned to deal with that THAT way, creating this alter to hide his own pain.  And it was because little Mikie was too gracious a child to have ever been REAL we got suspicious.  We KNOW we were a handful at that age, adventurous, physical, and got into some trouble.  It was that which put “us” into snooping, and in which we found this other hidden child, the REAL child.  He was ‘host’ of that time.  And because of that, still holds some power.  A whole raft of ‘beings’ pulls the strings like master puppeteers.  He, too, still exists, and comes out.  And then there’s “R” (he does have a full name, btw) who is a “ghost” of my sibling.  For “me” and/or us “ghosts” are those personalities built on someone OUTSIDE ‘the system’ – a parent, friend, perhaps, or brother.  :-/  Even for me, the current host, it is somewhat amazing how quickly they can take over and change my words, or worse, attitude.

But what does it mean when a “host” and a system has pretty much gotten co-conscious?  Can ‘we’ be classed as “MPD” anymore, seeing as ‘we’ are pretty much aware of each other?  We’re a pretty mature system, by the way – lots of studying & taking apart & examining every part in depth, & then “feeling our way around in them” checking for other parts inside of them, and their connections and/or fears of, and with, other parts in the system.

It gets kinda complicated in a hurry.  Put us in the right environment and we’d change in a hurry. We can control some of the switches; choose to put Matthew “up” or many of the others.  Some – never.  Some are too violent, technically insane, psychotic, and very dangerous. Those stay in their own environments, too.  (No more cages, pets, nor for my Beast.  The only way to defeat them was in the end, LOVE them as my own pets.)

But what can I say?  All these acronyms . . . and it’s just ME inside . . . me & my ‘others’.  We don’t like big ol’ labels stuck on our head, and it doesn’t work, anyway.  DID systems are too unstable, flexible, to “define” beyond a moment, a day, or even a year.  They change, and alters can change within them.  “New” ones can be found or made.  I know ‘we’ have made many of them over the years to help us get along.  Some are quite professional. Others’ good ol’ boys, or horrors you wouldn’t like to meet out in the woods.  Together ‘we’ all make up the hole, but is there any patching?  Is this “it”?  We’re kinda okay with things, and have learned to ‘split’ alters & confine alters (and old skill), and we weave and wave around all the definitions.  All of them apply sometimes.  I can’t say there’s ever been a time when it’s been “none”.  But that’s the “okay” thing about a DID system: once you get to where you can kinda understand it, it can be okay.  Not even okay, but fun sometimes.  Well, maybe never ‘fun’ because there’s always someone not enjoying it, but together we can make it “one”.  Or appear to be to you all, those monominded folks out there.

If there even is such a thing.

LOL.

sunny

Posted in Alters, child abuse survivor, Counselors, DID, DID Detective, dissociative identity disorder, Mental Health Professionals, MPD, Psychiatry, Psychology, social stigma, therapy | Leave a comment

The Reason For EVERYTHING Everyone Does


The Reason For Everything –

People want, say or do anything.

There is only ONE reason anyone does something, thinks something.  Whether it be the child rapist-serial murderer raping and murdering a child; a childhood sweetheart showering you with kisses, the urge or need to buy whatever it is you are thinking about buying, owning, or controlling; the desire to have money – nor not, the want & desire for ANYTHING boils down to just ONE SINGLE MOTIVE:

You (or they) thought it would make them happy.

No matter how you slice and dice it – from personal sacrifice, down to giving your life for someone, murdering someone, raping someone, giving presents, getting gifts, making purchases, et cetra and on ad infinitum, IF you ask “WHY?” long enough you will get to this thing:

“I wanted to be happy and thought this would satisfy that need.”

Beyond basic survival, of course, meaning food, shelter, and livable environment, all people want is to be happy.  And they show it in all kinds of crazy ways.  MOST DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY ARE SEARCHING FOR.  But if you bore down through their motives, asking that question “why?” often enough, to and through everything, the answer is going to be: “I thought it would get me some happiness; make me happy in some way.”

And in over 90% of the instances, they were wrong, wrong, WRONG.  It might have bought them some happiness for an instant or awhile, but when it comes to “outside”* things, you are ALWAYS DOOMED TO FAIL.

IF perhaps your happiness lays in those human ideals of family and love . . . then what happens when they die?  Or YOU die?  Are you going to be happy then?  It might just be the thing that makes you miserable there at your end!  Thinking about all those loved ones you are going to leave behind, maybe leaving some of them devastated, alone.

So much for the happiness you thought you were buying then.  It is gone, and gone forever in that last case.  Same with kids – some grow up and leave you.  Some die.  Some never come back.  I’ve had all three, and more. (There are the unknown fates of some, but we choose it to be intentionally so.)

So outside things cannot buy you happiness.  Not family, nor money.  Indeed, it seems that those who have a lot of it spend a lot of their time worrying about it, down to every dime!  And that’s not buying ME happiness if I have to work all the time guarding every cent and making sure the right investments were made and no one is ripping me off.  Plus there’s the McMansions to take care of – or at least you might have to manage a manager who manages your “everything”, and even still there’s going to be a drain in the back of your mind . . . always worrying and always wondering if he (or you) are doing the right thing maintaining that bank account of yours.

It’s no wonder money causes so much misery.  Too much and you’ve got a lot to worry about; not enough and it threatens your physical survival, and it is very hard to get in the frame of mind suitable to withstand starving and poverty and just waiting to die.

For the most part, WE (and I mean ‘me’ & my alters) have it down.  We can be quite happy sitting in rags in the mud alongside some ditch waiting to fall in.  We kinda learned that thing along our way, but I don’t recommend it.  It’s not very good for you and hard on the human body.

So remember this: Even by you sitting there reading this – why are you doing it?  I would suggest you are doing it on your own search for happiness, some peace in your mind, and we ALL (even our now tamed Beast) wish you the best of luck in it.  But as you can see from the above you’re not going to find it outside yourself.  You must look within; change your attitudes and perceptions and accept that you are NOT going to be 100% perfect at it.  Neither am “I”.  We are lousy at it sometimes, building into rages & smoldering angers.  But we also try and defuse them most carefully, examining their aspects and OUR attitudes looking to make correction in some way that WE can perceive “this event” or “that happening” as something positive, or in some positive light, even if it means taking a lesson on HOW to do that at some death, murder, and suicide; or our own upcoming demise (hopefully still a long time away, but poor ol’ Body has been shot).  You gotta get good with it, et all, if you want to be happy, and REALLY happy all your life.  Change how you see a thing and you can change how you FEEL about it.  (Officially that’s called “cognitive therapy” for those who wish to pursue this.)

I highly recommend it.  You CAN be happy AND live a happier life without buying a book, getting a date, having a new car/house/home/lifemate (maybe).  You don’t have to do yoga; you don’t have to exercise, nor do you have to watch your diet.  You CAN be happy without anything but YOU if you try, even through storm and threat and friends dying. Even family sometimes. You can learn to do this.

So why do I want you to try????

Because it makes me happy to think I might be helping some other human beings in finding happier lives . . . because I want us all to be able to live together in happiness . . .

and why?

Because happy human beings are no threat.  And that affects my survival and the survival of everyone else on this planet.  Which is why all humans want other humans to be happy (or die in some cases).  It’s so they no longer threaten anyone’s survival.

Ultimately everything is tied to this “survival instinct” in us, and the animal.  But we’ll save that subject for later: how everything ties into the survival instinct; however, there are times human beings will, for perceived happiness, put an end to their, or others’ lives, whether through their own hands or dying themselves (personal sacrifice).

So be Happy.  It’s a learned skill, by the way.  Don’t think you are going to buy this.  Or that it’s going to happen overnight.  But you can do it – if you (and yours, if you are DID-MPD like us) try.

sunny

 

Posted in Education, Happiness, Life, mental health, Mental Health Professionals, Psychology | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Just When You Think There Are No More Surprises . . .


Just When You Think There Are No More Surprises

. . . you learn something new. . . about yourself when you are a person within a DID system.

(M3 here: the adult, ‘grownup’ alter – husband, father, and the current ‘host’ of a wild gang & crew.)

We’ve been having parent problems lately.  Hell, WE’VE always had “parent problems” – from the time we were born until . . .

Well, they’re still alive, aren’t they?  So I (and we) can assume parent problems will progress.  Our “ma” has started suffering oncoming dementia and “the old man” is  in a nursing home, which is probably best for us, best for them, and the only thing that’s probably keeping him & her alive – saving her from the stress of having him in her life and him from her killing him.  Yeah: she’s that kind of person.

But anyway . . .

lately we’ve had to start drawing some HARD boundaries with her.  Firm, strict, no-nonsense, no slack, no cutting back over time, nor softening of position just because she is “family”.  My wife & child understand.  Most can’t.  Some thing I am “disowning” her.  In our society a man who shoves his momma aside is worse than dirt.  Never mind she made him eat it.  In our society a man who refuses to attend to his every elderly parent’s needs is seen as a bit of a heel.  Never mind they all ground me beneath all of them.  That doesn’t seem to count in this life time.

But because of her manipulations we’ve had to start drawing the lines.  I think she’s kinda multiple, claiming not to remember a thing she did a few hours later – or sometimes she does.  I’ve noticed they’re mostly things she doesn’t WANT to recall.  She out & out refuses to acknowledge them – even to herself I think! – that they even happened to the faces of the persons she did them to!  I think her’ old evil personality is starting to show its old teeth.  It’s like a bit of her younger “evil” self is on the loose now that the dementia has begun to wear down inner restrictions & boundaries.  It might be tau proteins between  synapses is creating physical ‘walls’ between her ‘selves’, allowing more expression by individuals.  Or it might just be Alzheimer’s kicking in.  Who knows?

At any rate this hard drawing of boundaries and “lets talk business ONLY & keep your crap to yourself” came from a recent betrayal.  And with it came a host of other “stuff” – things I’d almost forgotten – only I hadn’t.  Read on . . . it’s an interesting antecedote about being an abused child.  Because it’s like this:  when something is such a normal day-to-day part of life you tend to forget it even happened.  It’s like it’s hard to recall a single instance easily – but when you get down to it and start rubbing brain cells together out comes the memories like a magic genie to explain them . . .

I’d set up this a complicated affair dealing with the old man’s health & transportation. It involved the VA, a private nursing home, an ambulance contractor, and an “at-home-away-from-home” escort to accompany my father to his appointments.  I worked all week to “make it happen”, informing ‘mom’ of the scheduling and contracts, etc.  She agreed; said she wanted it: it takes a lot of burden off her increasing decrepit shoulders, and is at the request of my more wisely distant sibling(s).  Then, at the LAST minute as we were preparing to sign down at the establishment, she refuses to sign, laughs in my face, said she was just telling me a lie so she could get me there – and in doing so undoing a lot of work.  That smirk she shot really got me.  Then laughing in my face TELLS me it was just a lie, and made quite intentionally in order to manipulate me.

I am not good with this.  And why?

Because THIS was where the bright lights started popping on over the landscape.  How they’d “done” me, all of them, me being the youngest monkey on their tree.  How they’d offer a prize of some nature for some work or some kind of sacrifice.  And when I’d done it, sweating my balls off sometimes – mowing the yard comes to mind, with the promise of ice cream if I would finish it – they’d yank away my prize.  As in I’d come in all hot & sweating to find them around the table eating the very last of the ice cream, or putting it away & saying I could not have any; I’d worked too slow or was too late.  And that is just one of HUNDREDS, if not thousands of examples of the prize held, and then snatched away – and usually presented to someone else, or given to my brother, or else I’d be told I really didn’t deserve it, or “we’re just going to put this up for you” when I’d win a cash award for my scholarship & studies and/or artwork.  Always with the disappearing prizes and endless disappointments; always it was because I had not done something good enough to stand their inspection, or failed to meet some standard, or as some punishment for normal teenage behavior.  This extended into my college career.  A lot of promises which failed to appear and left me homeless, and up to my ears in bad things (like drugs & crime & that sort of thing).  My parents literally abandoned me when I was 17.  And their stomping of my dreams extended to the art career I was supposed to have & didn’t because when it came time – when I’d done all they had done suggested and asked – I got F’d because they wouldn’t pay the fee ($350 in 1977) to pursue my dream . . .

BUT

It was just one thing TOO damn many this time.  As I told my dad: she has nothing I want, nor need.  I have no use for your woman.  And even he agrees she’s a toxic bitch; always has been, but increasingly so through the years . . .

Now:  Getting onto this “discovering”  of things . . . and “tricks” your alter(s) can play on you.  And for you monominds out there: you don’t get it, I don’t think – how this can work this way.  Which is why so many say DID-MPD/BPD isn’t real; that it’s all an act. I can assure you that it isn’t.  Not at all.  Not for me & ‘us’.

I can rarely play chess – no one to play with except my dad.  BUT . . . whenever I want to go out there the pain of my disability ALWAYS seems to kick up so bad I have to take my pain pills & lay around. I cannot get there.  And I noticed today as I prepared for the 3rd time this week to go & have some ‘fun’ & see my dad . . . this bone-aching ache across the neck & shoulders, really bad . . . & I lay down . . . and a hunch, or suspicion started to form because I had felt FINE up until about an hour to go . . .

And sure enough it was 13.  (“13” is a 13 year old personality, very hard, very cold, very distant, and a true nerd.  But HE was the one who wanted to be a Machine – and DID – building ‘us’ one and putting us all in it for a long, long time.  About 10 years or so for the most of us.  And it was very hard on him & us all.  He was the young Master at the time.)

So it turns out that this “grudge” my 13 year old personality holds against my dad (and he has his reasons) causes this “young person” or part of my person to suddenly take hold – by the nape of the neck, no doubt! (I am laughing about that!) – and tensions & tightens the muscles to the point of spasms . . .

just to keep us home and THAT part from having to deal with my dad.  And the thing is “he” contains several personalities within HIM, like a lot of the younger ones he was built to protect (replacing “10”, who was a slight replacement, or somewhat modification, to the 8 year old “person” or personality who has an alter all HIS own which we have long called “Mikie” but which is just a projection of the 8 year old alter in control at the time.)

Gets complicated, doesn’t it. :-/  Sorry about that.  But basically it boils down to here I THOUGHT I had my ‘system’ down; no new worries, and any new alters are welcome, and ‘everyone’ inside seemed all right and all – the “Family” & Crew is getting along okay – hell, we were even doing some work analyzing “the Crowd” trying to figure out what THEY are or could be . . .

When here comes some new news which we should’ve expected (and probably would’ve if we had a good therapist) – that ol’ “13” – or any alter – CAN CAUSE PHYSICAL PROBLEMS AND/OR AGONY.  Which we knew about that . . . but us?  When we’re all doing so “okay”?

Seems ridiculous, but the funnier thing is . . .

As soon as we “acknowledged” who and where the pain came from?  It went away . . . just gradually eased up and in about 10 minutes we were fine, went out to see him, and got our asses whooped in chess . . .

once again the old master proves he is still king of his kingdom (the chessboard) . . .

and 13 proved: he still has quite a bit of swing, even for a thirteen year old who’s over 50.

The Machine, an old alter 13 built to protect him & 'the others'. Eventually it broke down.

The Machine, an old alter 13 built to protect him & ‘the others’. Eventually it broke down.

Posted in 13, Alters, DID, DID Detective, dissociative identity disorder, Education, Family, Life, mental health, MPD, psycho-analysis, Schizophrenia, therapy | 2 Comments

Acceptance


Acceptance.

Acceptance is a key towards being a happier being.

But when I think of the things we’d been taught – even as a small child.  And we were trained in some of them – the worst of them being used as someone’s sex toy.  For their pleasure and our desire for what we were convinced was love and acceptance.  Acceptance for a child can is a big thing.  A Large thing.  It makes up part of life.  Even now, look around.  How much do you do to be accepted by this world?  A lot of things?  A million things?  Maybe even a few million?

Take it from me: what are you thinking?  Even that is judged in the eyes of social acceptance.  How you think and more.  I’m talking about your morals and stuff.  Whether or not you suffer from depression, or some other form of insanity, acceptance by yourself and others seems to be a key towards building a happier self & being.

Acceptance.  The things you HAVE to accept: taxes and death, and abuse.   Sometimes I think life is nothing but a series of abuses – from the first harsh dry breath until the last gurgling sigh, and everything in between.

Sure, there are those bright moments, those shining stars which we like to think define us.  But isn’t it the worst that defines us in some ways?  Our secret desires & cravings – things we dare not engage in for fear of unacceptance; that is to say, rejection of what we feel is right for US even if no one else agrees.

That’s one of the crosses to bear with a DID / MPD system: different levels of acceptance, or no acceptance at all, of differing morals, outlooks, and viewpoints that varying alters may have.  We have one: Whistler – a nice enough guy if you were to look at him.  But he’s known for whistling down dark alleys at night looking for someone to prey on.  We keep that “one” (alter) in a cityscape all its own where it can whistle all it might, but no one’s gonna come looking for him.

It’s best that way for some of our interior beings; the Beast being one, Whistler another, and we have to keep an eye on ’13’, our teenage (or preteen?) alter who swore off of every emotion in the world . . . and whose cold calculating mind – which is also that of a 13 year old – can be very vicious and cruel.

Or the Businessman.  We kind of accept HIM, have to, but another one with no heart.  He is, as his name suggests, strictly business.  And there is no heart in business and he’ll cut your throat in a heartbeat.

Acceptance is also key when it comes to outside forces.  My parents – one aged and in a nursing home, the other increasing insane as dementia swamps her mind and she re-engages in old attitudes and tricks to get her way.  It is very hard to accept someone who is toxic, but we do what we must: drawing boundaries (which are confusing to her) while still doing our family ‘best’ to make sure her old life goes dragging on, though she swears it’s the last thing she wants.

Acceptance of my parents deaths won’t be easy, but it won’t be hard, either.  Getting people to accept that yes – I CAN divorce, alienate, get rid of my parents – that I no longer consider them family at all, except by accident – even they cannot accept that, and neither can many others.

But I can accept them not being good with that, and I accept them (my friends) anyway despite their condemnation of my attitude.  They don’t know what went on; they don’t know the horrors I survived. Some, living right next door, would still be in shock if they knew . . . but some know.  They saw the scars at night.

Acceptance goes a long way towards achieving some peace in your life.  Accepting that we will not, cannot, and never will know all our past.  That’s one for ya.  Accepting that there are mysteries about black holes in our memory we will never be able to penetrate.  Accepting that yes, my younger self sought love in the arms of another abuser, escaping the one he was with – that’s okay, and I’m okay with it.  I’m okay with the abuser and abuse itself, though I am not happy the way “he” (the abuser) handled it in the end.  He really damaged that little child in a lot of ways neither would understand for years to come.

Accepting that yes, for ten years I denied myself any kind of “positive” emotion, not allowed to show pride, triumph, or even the idea that I might be kind of okay in anyone’s eyes – that was a lot of my parent’s doing.  Accepting that they made us an emotional cripple, as well as a social one – and that by accepting, knowing, we were able to painfully and very slowly correct that thing.

When you’ve been as damaged as me (and we) have there’s a lot of things you have to accept about your life, your past, your future, your now, your present, and all the emotions you have.  You have to accept those parts that would make everyone sick, and those that are by society’s definition downright evil.  You have to smile and grin at them and accept them with open arms, knowing they are down right damaged parts of you, and accept that that will never change.  They are what they are and we are what we do and we do what we think is best for all, including the society we are in, even if it causes us pain a lot of the time.

We can accept that, too.

Acceptance is a cruel nature’s joke, but sometimes?  It’s the only way to keep on moving and get along, creeping along in our lives.

Acceptance.

Learn to accept it.

Fin.

Matt and Mikie

Posted in child abuse, child abuse survivor, depression, dissociative identity disorder, Happiness, Life, mental health, PTSD, social issues, social stigma, Stories of Child Abuse, therapy | 2 Comments