Serena in the Mirror
(WARNING: some descriptions of abuse)
“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.” (“The Gnostic Gospels” – Elaine Pagels)
September/1995: I have been seeing Caer weekly, and sometimes twice weekly when she has been having a more difficult time. Since she stopped working she has become better physically and she is less often suicidal. It seems she often has days when she is not able to leave her apartment or to cope very well. Her work with me in therapy is often very intense.
From out of nowhere it seems, a name emerges. Serena (5). A woman in pain too, but not like us, and there is something about who her father is, was. It feels like this is a story we are writing but even that is not accurate. It is something more than that. It is a story of truth, not fiction.
She hangs over our head all day. Is she an alter we ask. It doesn’t seem so. But then ...
We have new music to listen to, Peter Gabriel. It feels wonderful. And before you know it Serena sails to the front in flying colours. We begin to draw a face. It is in a mirror and its name is Serena. Serena watching us. Serena glaring at us, accusatory, stern, and angry. And her life is parallel to ours.
We are filled with wonderful wild and free feelings. We dance to the new music and every so often, we stop to draw more of Serena. We return to the dance then suddenly we are writing about Serena as well. What is this flurry of activity? What the hell is happening? Serena written, Serena drawn, and in between we dance and fly and laugh wildly and sing. This is the Remembering and this is the Release.
However ...
the next day our pain and depression return. To remind us it is all not so wonderful. Having another alter emerge means more memories and explanations to come. More wounds to tend to. And the fear we may not make it through is here again too. Being depressed is like being all dried up, shrivelled, dead, no feelings, no life, no energy.
However ....
tomorrow may be different. While there are days like today where we fear we will not make it, there are other ones when we believe that we will triumph, we will win this war. We have to open ourself up to what is now, feel it and be all who we are. This moment. There is hope within that. Learning to free-fall, surrender and be open, waiting to receive.
Those feelings of wildness come from Serena. We draw a lion’s mane around her face. What is she then? A shape shifter is the answer. She looks fierce and determined. I think I like this beast within us.
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Our mother visits for a few days. Her presence affects us all in different ways. Distance. Detachment. Sorrow. Anger. Compassion. Truth shared. Revealing. Validation. She tells us that the landlady at James Street, who often took care of us while our mother worked, used to hit us with a stick. I didn’t know that, don’t remember it. And the nursery school teacher made us kids hold our hands up in the air for a long time in the Christmas pageant. Those of us who were angels. Our mother says we did it too. We obeyed.
She also says we were a perfectionist. Really. That’s a surprise.
Some time ago we had explained multiple personality to our mother. She seemed to understand it. We told her what had caused it. At least I’m pretty sure we did. But today she says she didn’t know that multiplexity is very often caused by abuse, almost always by trauma. She says she has never connected the two before. We think she is dissociative, forgetful and numb.
It is so often difficult for us to believe that telling our story is important, will matter to someone else, will make a difference in their life. We want to make some kind of impact on the world, leave a mark, as they say. We want to believe that we matter. But that is so very hard to think. Why did we create No Self (4)? Because we felt we did not matter, we were of no significance, no worth. We tried to erase ourself thinking no one would notice. Now we must do the most difficult work of changing these beliefs, of seeing that we have something to offer. Somewhere deep inside of us we believe that every human matters, every person is of worth. Including us.
It feels like the only work we must do now has to be writing, drawing, journal writing. Oddly it feels as if this comes from Serena. She does not want us to do anything else.
A dragonfly comes into the room. A symbol of transformation.
Maybe stories are reflections in a mirror. One person tells a story which reflects back to those who listen or read it. Serena is our reflection. Her story mirrors ours somehow.
The days are so painful, left with only us. At times I feel no “us”, not even “me”. Just an empty shell. Then gone. Blips. Spaces. Gaps. Then dark. Every day is a death and every day is a transformation from what and who we were to what and who we are now, today. Tomorrow it changes. And the day after that and the day after that. Today I feel scared, lonely, bored, lost. What will tomorrow bring? What will it erase? What will it change? What will it repeat?
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We spend two days on Galiano Island with Lance, in his little trailer. It is an amazing time. We hope the island will be our home some day. And we feel so happy being with Lance. He is soft, reassuring, safe, warm, comfortable. Katy Ann (2) comes to terms with her fears while here. She is afraid of the dark but still she goes out in the blackness of night to brush her teeth. She also shows more of herself to Lance and grows to like him more and more. She is proud of herself and wants to like being here. She tells Lance more about Letty (2). Letty does not want us to tell anyone about us. She wishes to be completely private. She does not want therapy, does not want us to write our story, does not want any part of us revealed. But this does not stop Katy Ann and it doesn’t stop us either. We are sorry Letty but we have to do this. We must in order to heal.
Tir (1) cries when we arrive and cries when we leave. Her spirit lives so strongly here among the trees. Life feels so simple here while life in the city seems complicated and even neurotic. It is noisy and full of stress. People walking like zombies, the undead says Tir. She hates the city. Being in the silence of Galiano is being in this moment now. You can hear yourself breathe, hear the beating of your heart drumming against your chest.
Letty carries humiliation and shame about what happened to her when we were young and it is something she does not want to talk about, even with us. It was not abuse that created her. No one was trying to hurt us that time. She does not think she belongs in this body. She’s too different from the rest of us. She feels alone and foolish in her priggish way. Stuffy, prim and proper. Haughty Letty. She thinks our house is despicable, the way we dress and behave is terrible. In a session with Lyn, she throws our writing around and says she wants to burn it. She calls our words lies and calls us a witch. She hates us and hates being a part of this system. She also thinks her Christian god has betrayed and abandoned her. She feels so alone. She doesn’t understand that she is not. She has us, no matter what. We will not abandon her. We do not blame her. It doesn’t matter what happened to her, she is still one of us. Maybe someday she will know this. She takes Ativan at night so that she can sleep and prays there will be no dreams, nothing to remind her.
There is a dark side to being on the island though. A question from some of us – during the nursery school years were we taken out of the city to a wooded area sometimes? Why do we even ask that? Because someone knows, hints, leaves a trail of bread crumbs to follow.
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WARNING: This may be triggering for some
September. Time for another of Una’s Brood (4) to emerge. Her name is Little (4). She talks to Lance and even a bit to Graham. We go to group and Little gets triggered by something, someone. Other children being hurt. Little says they gather up all the children so they can fuck [sorry] them. She even says the word “fuck”. It’s what she knows.
Two memories surfacing at the same time. Little’s and another one. An image, a picture of an eye. That’s all. But it feels a memory as vague as it is. So our dreams are haunting and things on the tv seem so real. A door is open and we are letting everything in, picking up energy from everywhere.
Miss Angry (1) denies vehemently. This is all bullshit and lies, she says. Kill us. Her Doubt and Denial so strong. Yet not strong enough.
One of Una’s Brood goes in first to see Lyn. Unsure where to sit, where we usually sit. Finally sits with jacket on. And shoes. Us regulars usually sit on the floor and with our shoes off. I don’t know who this is. Then Little emerges and says she wants to hide. So Lyn gives her a blanket to hide under. Then the memory comes. Gathering children in the woods.
Memories take our anger and turn it inwards. Wanting to destroy ourself. Filled with hatred for us. As if it were all our fault.
Or maybe it is what we were told to do and feel when we started to spill the secrets.
There seems nothing to console us this time. Turn the tv on and just get through this evening, this night. Tomorrow will be different hopefully.
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Just crying is left for us now. Nothing else to do. Let it out.
An eye turned inward. Only one eye. Not long now and you will know. The others will come. One eye and more. Just hold on.
In the Y support group we cry so much and can’t stop. We go to the bathroom to cry some more and then we all know. It is Letty who is crying. She says she never wants to hear our pain nor does she want to hear anyone else’s. It makes her feel so sad. This is so good though. She is releasing and letting go. It is only a small step. She will continue to criticize us and be unhappy about her situation. She will continue to take Ativan for a while yet, wanting only dreamless sleeps.
We are emptied out. Just gotta hold on for now.
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