Gaetway
“Truth Visiting
Be prepared
To risk everything you hold precious
for the truth inside you
TRUTH IS EMPOWERING
And to speak the truth
Is to overcome the fear of death.
And on the other side of hell
lies paradise ...”
[Revisiting Our Souls, series by Jane Evershed]
There is a pace we have set for our healing. It’s fast. At least it seems so. It’s been almost 5 years since the first ones began emerging and it feels like our foot has been on the accelerator ever since. We race downhill at high speed, with information coming as fast as we can write, memories flooding our mind and sending us reeling, alters emerging one on top of the other it seems. And there is a cost to this. It renders us dysfunctional quite often. Makes it hard to deal with life’s daily requirements. We couldn’t continue working for one thing. Being around people a lot is difficult and we have to make sure we get lots of time alone. Just us.
Somewhere in this mess of things is a beginning. Of what I’m not sure but I know we are looking for one. Maybe a beginning to this story. Maybe a new beginning for this life, for us. Maybe a reconfiguration of our system. New roles for many of us. Old tasks no longer needed since the abuse has stopped and our healing began.
There were plenty of good things in our past too. It wasn’t all bad. There are things we get nostalgic for. Places we escaped to.
-----
August 15, 1995: We spent the session reviewing Caer’s letter to her mother. She is not sure she will send it. She is wanting to establish a closer relationship and this would involve disclosing more of what happened to her in childhood. Caer is dealing with her denial, coping with the knowledge of regular sexual intercourse (rape) by her stepfather. This is a huge betrayal, the worst yet, and she often feels devastated, like she is dying. This week she is having physical symptoms – especially upset stomach and general low energy
We long to write. It hurts that we don’t write very much. It hurts when we don’t draw very often. Or dance. Or sing. It hurts when we are not in touch with that deep inner core of us. There where Tir (1) lies. There where Julia (1) has gone. We are in deep sorrow when we cannot touch that Inside place of Light and Life.
Many words inside here but I had diminished them thinking words trivial, inconsequential and the speaking of them displayed a narcissism, selfishness and self-indulgence. The eye turned inward. How selfish! But what if the eye turned inward enables us to see better outward?
-----
We have begun a new group, initiated by us. A peer-based support group for multiples. It is both wonderful and terrifying. This is what happens to us in groups. When we came home from it last night I felt spaced out. No desire to do anything, no tv, no reading. Just an emptiness. I noticed we were quite tense in the group. It felt like a veil. Black cloth. Maybe I expect too much of us, thinking I should be, we should be more open.
There are some who yearn to reach out and connect with the people in the group, but there are others who are very, very mistrustful. Conflict is always there. Conflict always exists when any one of us wants to speak, write, draw – show who we are in any way. Always a fight. [The Mute (3)]
David visited last night. Katy Ann (2) slipped out and started talking to him. She asked him if it was okay and he said yes. He thought it was Annie Charlie (1) but she told him she was older.
Lyn wrote in a report that we “dissociate with amnesia frequently in our sessions”. I didn’t know that. Silly me. She also said we were psychotic less often. Are we psychotic when Tir comes out? Is Tir psychotic?
Listening to the most beautiful music this evening. A group called Deep Forest. We have played some of the songs over and over while we dance in the kitchen. The music is gypsy, Transylvania, Hungarian and it reaches our soul. Celebration and the passion of life. Energy. Light. Joy. And feeling safe. Then we walk down the street and see the sun pouring orange colours on everything. Children on the street playing, happy, okay. A young boy helping his parents plant a garden. We want to keep dancing and singing tonight. Wanting our soul to fly free for a short while. We feel blessed with these few safe hours. We feel the freedom to love what is around us. Trees, birds, people, colours, sky, us. Just a few hours of freedom. Thank you kind angels.
And Tir writes
Tir is a gypsy heart. Red dress dancing. Passion is my blood.
Remembering. Me remembering the others. Blurry lines. Don’t remember if I remember. Days like this and me-Shell (1, 2) is asleep. Shifts and changes one to another so I never know who. Adult Empty (1) and The Censor (2), Miss Angry (1) and Miss Normal (1). Between us four we remember and forget. Why am I split in four ways? I’m sure I have asked this before but I’m asking now, again. Why? Why not just one alter? And when I say “I” who I mean? All 4 of us?
The group last night was great! One woman unintentionally triggered two other women but everyone was brave, open, honest and caring about each other. The topic this week was what do we call ourselves, talking about the label “MPD”. All kinds of things came up and it was even fun at times. By the end of the session there was a lightness and a feeling the group had grown together a bit more.
An amazing thing happened for us. At one point someone else was talking and I got a very clear sense that a lot of the adults Inside had moved forward and some were coming out. There was no big change on the outside except our glasses kept being taken off and put on, a stuffed rabbit was held at times, and other times forgotten, and we sat in different positions. I wasn’t present for all of the time but the changes were so frequent that time was broken up into pieces rather than one big chunk of lost time. And terrific headaches that would come and go, moving in like big storms then suddenly gone again. It was exciting because so many of us felt safe in the group. I felt too as if I could just let go and relax. I was able to let go of taking responsibility for the group on my own. It felt good to “show” our selves. Exciting that this is actually possible.
Adult Empty is the only part of me-Shell who has feelings. The Censor and Miss Normal have none at all. Of course, Miss Angry is angry but that’s all. And even Adult Empty’s feelings don’t really belong to her (me). They come from the others Inside. Sometimes we know who they come from and other times they are just felt.
Oh ... a discovery. When I, as Shell, go Inside while others surface, I go in to become No Self (4). Then all four parts of me-Shell are one.
The Mute has chosen a new name for herself. Oregon. And she spoke to us for the first time. Gabriel (3) said she could now. There was no danger for her anymore.
Somehow it feels like we have made it! Some kind of victory. The silence broken.
No comments:
Post a Comment