Ice Blue Phoetus in the Belly of Wyrd
We have performed a healing. Katy Ann (2) and Julia (1) have drawn a picture of Alexander (3) and Nigel (3) who were also put in the box. The picture includes Split Face (4) who looks on in horror and Tir (1) crying, releasing her blue tears into The River of Blood. A blue sun pours its warmth on all while we listen to Sarah McLachlan, Loreena McKennitt and Peter Gabriel, some of our favourite music that fills up our heart and soul with sadness as well as joy.
We go to bed with such a rare and welcome sense of well being. A smile spreads across our face and we are unable to stop it, can’t hold it back. We deserve this don’t we?
And then there is work. We were exhausted last night after our second day back but the day itself went really well and we felt fine working. Thank goodness.
I understand now what splitting into different alters looks and sounds like for us. As each one of us is created a crackling electric bolt of lightning speeds through the clouds of a purple sky and we land feet first upon the ground. Here we are and alive, born out of necessity and survival, out of a terrible urgency, out of piercing pain and a sense of identity that is constantly threatened. Born out of each other. I wonder if other multiples have something similar, the moment of creation so clear, crystal and pure. Skyquakes is what someone inside calls them.
I wonder if we have a Richter scale for these Skyquakes. How bad is it?
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“Incoming wounded” is what we call it. Others not yet presented but not far away. Yes there is more. A feeling of despair and fear as we journey down into our darkness once again. How many more? How long will this go on? How long did it go on? Where does all of this end? But there is not time for answers to these questions now. Only time for getting ready, for making the path available to those who are coming, for those who bring us more bad news and boxes of memories.
We are cold. Ice cold. Ice Blue. Earth shaking. Bone freezing. Cold that comes from within, from the very center of us, the marrow of our bones. It spreads out rapidly like cracking ice. Tonight we are not able to go out as we had planned, can’t make it out of the house. A memory had surfaced in session with Lyn today and it has left us in shock, haunted and fragile. We knew it was coming even before the session. As we approached her office we felt sick to our stomach and as if we were going to faint. The memory came and as always it was so terrible, so terrifying, so agonizing. A child had come out in Lyn’s office, crying and screaming, flapping her little arms around trying to push the people away from her. Psychic surgery is the name for it, the belief that through surgery, they planted a device within and that it would explode if she ever told what they did to her. She believed and still believes ... completely. There is no telling her that it can’t be true, that it is not possible. She can only understand what she saw, what it felt like, and what they told her.
Your mother told us to do this. She said if you are not a good obedient girl then she will never come back for you. Then Crystal (3) says “mother was a monster too.”
How do we know which ones are lies?
Othel (1) thinks our level of confidence at work is much higher than 4 years ago, that our healing work has boosted it. it helps that the job is essentially the same and thus familiar. When we are introduced to other employees it always is as someone returning to the college, not someone new. That gives us a sense of belonging.
I get confused with some of the kids. I can’t tell who some of them are and whether or not there are new ones here. There was a lot of switching with Lance last night and there was a little one there but I don’t know who. Amanda (1) or someone else? Whoever it was felt very small and very needy but I don’t want us to always be like that with Lance. I want some grown up parts too and I want to not be needy all the time with him. Well I guess he just does that to the Web. He feels safe so they come out. They don’t have too many other chances.
Some of us still live in the Dark surrounded by paralyzing fear and sharp edges of pain.
The Beast Within (1) struggles to release his unbearable Rage.
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The “mother” of the Web. Is it true? Una (4)? She emerged back in 1990, so long ago and we have not heard much about her since then. She has quite a few names. Una, Wyrd, Wyrd-Mama. Different alters call her different names.
Last night in bed a child said to Lance that he was cold. Lance got up and put a blanket on him. he said “I am always cold.”
November 4, 1994. Ice Blue Phoetus (4) in the Belly of Wyrd. A drawing in our journal of a fetus inside a woman’s womb. Una’s womb.
Katy Ann is in distress this evening. Cold and crying, complaining of hunger, she goes to Graham for comfort who hugs her a few times. It works and she feels better.
The exploding device that was supposedly planted in us makes sense of something that we used to feel when we first started working with Lyn. Every session we felt as if something would explode from within. We waited for it to happen, even wanted it to happen, to get it over with. Now there is new information. Ice Blue Phoetus in the belly of Una holds the device within him. This is some core self and Una feels like a core part of us. In some way it is as if she holds everything that is us. If I am the Shell of us, an outer “shield”, then Una is the center, and Ice Blue Phoetus is within her followed by the device which is within him. Deeper and deeper we go, into all that we are. Every layer is us and every layer is crucial to our survival. Every layer gets pulled away as we heal.
Phoetus is here within because of what happened, because of what they did to us. While dead and cold is what they made him, in us he is very much alive ... but still cold. It makes us nauseous and feel faint. Our breathing is rapid and full of panic. A dull ache resides within our womb. It all fits. Our body is telling us what happened and what was pushed inside of us. I guess the body remembers too.
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