Strange Star

[Hope4Now]

Horses tomorrow. In ring with 3 of them. Nervous but kind of excited. I mostly just want to hang out with them. I have no clue what to expect from the "therapy" part of it.

Bad day today. A lot of stuff is coming out now that has been buried for a long time...sometimes consciously buried, other times totally unconciously. It all seems to be rearing up in these past six weeks or so.

I drove away from the house last night. Tried the beach but there were a lot of cars and people. Tried another--same thing. It's the nice weather I guess. I ended up parking in a sort of depressing building lot across from a cove. I don't really understand why I was there. I sat with a good sharp hunting knife in my hand seriously considering. Then I kind of passed out. I think I slept. I woke around an hour later with the knife still in my hand and feeling stupid. I put it away, drove home, and went to bed. Nobody even knew I had been gone. Everyone was asleep. Things are definitely worse for me when I am tired.

Today, I was working on a vague kind of self-portrait that I had started yesterday. Took an 8x10 photo of myself at age 4 and cut it up into pieces (the idea was instead of cutting myself up). That project came to a standstill last night because my daughter's school project crisis intervened...she is building a krypton model and could not find the refills for the hot glue gun. Seriously this was a crisis. There was screaming and gnashing of teeth and all sorts of ugliness that grew out of her panic that she would not finish her project. Of course it was all fine at the end. But talk about a disruptive night! I hate school projects.

Today, I restarted where I left off on the portrait. I was feeling like it was maybe a way of connecting with this lost part of myself. Everything was going well until suddenly I was cutting myself with scissors. Not badly. Not particularly sharp scissors. It was out of nowhere. And then some part started communicating with me about his anger that I was so focused on the 4-year old and not him because it is just as much his story and he has just as many needs. He was very upset. I did the parts talking thing. Felt like a crazy woman. Talked to him. Told him I was sorry and I would sit and listen to what's going on, etc. I also took an extra klonopin once the attack abated enough.

Then I was fine. Left the picture for a while. Planted lettuce. Got showered and dressed and went to psychiatrist. Who said immediately, "What happened to your face?" And I stared at her. I had no idea what to say. And she said, "What do you want me to call you today?" And I stared at her, then said, "Why are you asking me that?" And she said, "I feel like I'm talking to somebody I haven't met yet." And it went on from there. And it was a terrifyingly helpful session. Terrifying because for some reason my parts are coming out with her in different ways than they do with my therapist. And helpful because it felt like a relief to be able to let them and not have the whole world cave in on me. She is an incredibly nice person. Equal to my therapist in kindness. Although sometimes I feel like my therapist is getting frustrated by me. He says he's not, but I think he is. But he was nice enough to talk to me tonight about what to say to the person tomorrow about my issues. We forgot to talk about that at the last session because we were too busy talking about suicidal thoughts and safety plans. UGH. Will this never cease?

 

[KwanYingirl]

I don't know if it will ever cease....I just try to work so hard that my down time is spent sleeping my life away. You're lucky that your psychiatrist speaks to you. Mine just says how are things I say fine he says ok I'll see you in three months

 

[Hope4Now]

@Valentino I want to thank you again for posting these short videos. I continue to be humbled by the profound gaps in my knowledge. I have, apparently and wrongly, always conflated spirit and soul. Of spirit, I have plenty. Plenty of connection. Plenty of vibrancy. It has helped me survive my life. The looking forward, looking up, expansiveness, etc. Perhaps the piece I need more work on is my soul.

When I was in first grade, my teacher told me I had terrible stains on my soul. She drew it on the chalkboard, filling in the soul (sort of an amoeba form) with white chalk. In my consciousness, my soul seemed to be located somewhere near my stomach (I'm not quite sure why, but perhaps it aligns with the solar chakra). Anyway, she was aiming to explain to us 6 and 7 year olds the concept of "original sin." And she took her fist and erased big blotches of the white stuff that filled the soul, so that there were black and gray splotches all over it. She pointed to these. She told us that this is what our souls were like, and that we had to spend our whole lives being good and following the church's and Jesus's example to repair our souls. And even then, we would never be able to make our souls pure again. And this is why we needed to go to confession. To be forgiven for our sins. Because when our souls are dirty, Jesus doesn't love us.

Now I'm sitting there at age 7 in my little school uniform and corrective shoes thinking this makes absolutely no sense at all. I was outraged that I should have to confess to and be forgiven for something I didn't even do. (This injustice hit very close to home, as I'm sure it did for many children). I was angry at Sister G. I challenged her. I was given a detention and told to reflect on my own shortcomings as a person, etc. A note was sent home to my parents (that did not go over well).

Down deep inside me, the belief took hold that I am a deeply flawed, dirty person who cannot be loved. I suspect this is part of the irrational desire I have always had to cut out the entire area of my solar plexus (oddly enough, a theme of a play my son produced last year called Gruesome Playground Injuries which I could barely tolerate watching.

I don't think this young nun (she couldn't have been more than in her late 20s or early 30s) had any idea the psychological damage she wrought on me. That blackboard image of my dirty soul has haunted me my entire life. And I think I pretty much abandoned the notion of it and just conflated it into the notion of spirit which was all goodness and light.

Watching these videos made me realize where much of my work lies. Even a mentor at the AZ program I attended told me that I live too much in the ethereal realms--that I need to come back to earth, back to my body, back to connection with other human beings. My soul needs attention...and here, all along, I've been thinking it was my spirit. Interesting. All very interesting.

I particularly liked Parker' Palmer's piece. I have always enjoyed his work on teaching and use quotes from him regularly, but my knowledge of his larger work is limited. I like his image of the wild animal. My therapist uses this as an analogy for me in therapy. It is all apropos.

So thanks for posting.

 

[Hope4Now]

The horse thing yesterday went well. As it was my first time, I had only one horse, a sweet pony who stood only a few feet or so taller than I. The therapist and the trainer felt safe to me. I was very nervous, as there were basically no parameters at all. I was to enter the ring and do whatever I wanted to do with the horse. They wouldn't even tell me the horse's name because I was meant to make the horse into whatever I wanted it to be. I could use props to build spaces, etc. Pretty much do whatever I wanted except ride (or, of course, harm the horse in any way). It lasted an hour. It was unbelievably intense, the range of emotions and thoughts that flowed through my system. Afterward, I could barely speak to the people. I asked if I could sit on the bench for a while. They agreed. After they left, I sat there and cried for 20 minutes. I don't even know why or where it came from. I think it was good though. Some sort of release. I will do this again next week.

Today I am in VT and hoping to maybe go riding. There is a lovely icelandic horse farm close by that does trail rides. I am planning to call them this morning to see if they can accommodate someone with my limitations. I have not been on a horse since this chronic pain hit, and I'm not sure I can manage either getting on and off, or even a short trail ride, but we'll see. It feels important to do, and I am learning to go with these feelings.

After we attend the year's first outdoor farmers market, my daughter and husband will go off and do a bit of the Appalachian trail. I'll drop them off and pick them up somewhere. I'm envious of their trek and wish I could go as well, although I am reminding myself that I much prefer hiking alone. I will not be camping as I had hoped. I could not fit my gear in the car along with the dog and the people and all of our other stuff. Oh, well, another time perhaps. I will have a campfire tonight, though. And perhaps sleep out on the porch under the stars if it isn't too cold or rainy. I am also very much looking forward to doing a little "river walk." I know I cannot walk far, but I think I can get to this one spot I have in mind. I'm feeling like I need to do this too. There is something elementally healing about rivers.

So all this stuff is about integrating I guess. At one moment I can be attacking myself with scissors, but another moment reflecting on soul and spirit, and planning a healing ceremony on a rock in the middle of the Mad River. LOL. What a strange life I live.

I slept last night. Klonopin is very helpful that way. I am still not sleeping a lot, and the nightmares still come, and I still get flooded out as I go to sleep...but I do feel clearer and more rested in the morning than I used to. And when I am rested, I have less pain, and I am less likely to get flooded by parts as fast an furiously as usual. So I've learned this about myself.

 

[Valentino]

Here's excerpts from a recent article written by Thomas Moore (author of "Care of the Soul") describing complexes, which sounds similar to 'parts' theory within IFS.

Don't ignore or repress your complexes, instead try to befriend them
A psychological complex is a set of emotions, memories, anxieties, desires, and habits focused around a theme—my need for family comfort, for example—that urges a person in a certain direction that may or may not fit his or her conscious and rational purposes. For example, you may do certain things automatically, desperately, and compulsively in spite of yourself.

Most of us have a certain collection of complexes that shape our lives and identity. They are not bad things, yet they cause trouble when they get out of hand. It helps to get to know them and tame them and get them in tune with your values and ideas. I’m not telling you to repress these complexes and imagine that you have to create a perfectly healthy self by controlling them. The goal is more to befriend them. C. G. Jung said that they’re like separate people inside us and that we can dialogue with them and give them some acceptance and containment. James Hillman advised not “feeding” them, and thereby not increasing their hold on you. He once told me to put my depression in a suitcase and carry it with me—close but not dominating.
...
You can be passionately spiritual and not fall under the sway of a complex. But if your dedication diminishes your life, your complexes are probably at work, and you may need to deal with them thoughtfully. Here are my own guidelines:

• Get to know your complexes and where they come from.
• Don’t feed them, especially when they are acting up and want attention.
• Don’t try to get rid of them but instead befriend them. Understand that at best they are the positive building blocks of your person and your life, but that they can get out of hand.

full post link: http://spiritualityhealth.com/articles/care-soul-spiritual-complexes

 

[KwanYingirl]

That made me think of Tara Brachs talk on healing the fear body

 

[Hope4Now]

sounds similar to 'parts' theory within IFS.

Yes, this part from Jung is very similar. IFS is, I believe, somewhat influenced by Jungian psychology.
The goal is more to befriend them. C. G. Jung said that they’re like separate people inside us and that we can dialogue withthem and give them some acceptance and containment.

 

[Hope4Now]

This whole healing thing is a sick cycle.
I find it, intellectually, almost impossible to understand myself.
Why can I be totally okay/functional etc. sometimes, then suddenly be so NOT okay. It cycles through the day at least hourly, sometimes in shorter bits.
I have known for a long while, somewhere in my head, that I am on the dissociative spectrum. That I have "parts."

This weekend, I was talking with my husband about it a little. It was morning time, so he was focused and asking me good questions. He is a good man. I am very blessed to have a life partner like him, even if his own parts stuff get all mixed up and trigger mine. That's what marriage is anyway, even a good marriage. Which we do have. Weathering this storm of mine is really stressing it though.

When I talk about things to another person, sometimes stuff comes out that I'm not even consciously aware of. It happened in my conversation with him when I was attempting to explain why I cut myself up on Thursday sort of out of the blue. I told him it was because I have a part that is very, very angry with me that I am ignoring him and spending so much time focusing on this little girl part. My husband asked a lot more questions and here is what came out. And I know it is true. It just never feels true when it is all going on in my own chaotic mind. But somehow when I talk it, everything sort of makes more sense. I suppose I am going to have to talk more to my professional peoples.

I have had two parts of me ever since I can remember. The girl part who carries my name that my mother called me. And a boy part that I called myself and insisted that other people call me sometimes. I did not answer to the girl part's name when I was in the boy part. And then there was some sort of hybrid part with another name--a nickname my father called me for my whole life (and one I liked). This stuff goes back really, really early. I think maybe I called myself the boy part name by the time I was three. I've always known about these parts. I never talked about them (except in the arguments with my parents about when to call me which name). The parts have stayed with me all my life.

When I was four and my father began the abuse (I think that is when it happened, but I don't even know because it is the only actual memory that has consolidated), I split into more parts. I kind of remember the feeling of it. Like my head and body were exploding, except they weren't. It was just my mind.

The little girl part with my "real" name that my mother and teachers called me stayed around but split. Part of her stayed in that bed in my bedroom, but the rest of her continued life as it was expected. She went to school and was a good student and got good grades and won writing and art prizes and was a school leader. Although within all of this, she was perpetually terrified of her teachers (who were, in fact, rather terrifying). At home, she learned to cook and to help host all the parties and be polite and charming with adults. Etc. I think over the years, she generated more parts of herself to deal with whatever issues came up--like taking care of her mother when her mother had a nervous breakdown, or taking care of her father when he would pass out in alcohol induced stupors. And eventually learning to give up the boy parts and become a "girl" who dated boys and partied with friends etc. There were bad moments in all of it that came and went, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months. In middle school for almost two years. But the summer after 8th grade, she metaphorically destroyed herself in a complicated set of ceremonies that lasted over a month or so, and turned herself into the person she managed to maintain until her senior year of high school when she ran away and then had some kind of breakdown. Long story.

The little boy part split too around age 4. Part of him stayed in the bed with the little girl part. But then the rest of him went on to grow and develop into a person who was very different from the girl part. He was a rough and tumble risk-taker who had a LOT of fun. But because the body was a girl body, and the main person that people recognized was not him, there were constant wars and clashes in the internal world. He split into more parts over the years too. He even stopped using his name and became just a kind of nameless shadow part that decided the nickname the father called us was good enough for him. It was an integration in some weird sort of way, but it never really took as is clear from what is happening to me now. He is the one who, aside from having fun (and getting hurt a LOT), was courageous enough to barrel into the parents when they were locked in fights, to perform first aid on himself when he got hurt (because don't tell the parents unless you really, really can't do it yourself). He is the one who became a girl scout because it was the only way to go camping and to learn the cool things he wanted to learn, and he liked the badges even if he hated the mean german lady who was the leader, and didn't much like any of the girly girls who were in his troop. He would have much preferred to be a boy scout. But it's probably good that he couldn't be one, because as he grew up, he realized he was gay, and gay and boy scouts don't match.

So now I get it that I have these parts. I get it but I still find it really, really hard to accept. I also get that these are not real people inside of me like some dwarf human beings--they are just neural networks and pathways that developed in my brain to help me survive my life.

If I had figured this out, or somebody had, a long time ago, this whole integration thing might have been far simpler. But it didn't all blast out into any sort of full consciousness or understanding until I was around 49. And now I am 52. And there are a hell of a lot of parts. Most of them are simple ones that, if I can ever get a handle on them will probably merge together into some of the more developed parts. But trying to identify different parts and hold them in my mind is like herding cats. Or maybe more like when you break a mercury thermometer (there, I'm dating myself) and all the little balls roll away and keep splitting apart. I seem to be able to grab onto a couple, but I lose all the others. The cards I have been making of the parts I can identify have been helpful. They are, at least, tactile. And I can put the deck together in a nice neat box I bought. But I don't like to look at them. I have been very resistant to looking at them and doing what my therapist has been encouraging me. So we have stopped for a bit.

Now we are working on this one little girl part. The one that was stuck in the bed. The one we did a retrieval on. And we also did a retrieval of the little boy part who was stuck there too, although that work is very fuzzy in my mind because the day we did it, I was really out of it.

I am doing good hard work in therapy. I know that. But it is also making me wildly activated in so many weird ways that I can't keep track of which part is in the fore. My therapist keeps having me come back to "self." I sort of get this. It does happen sometimes. But in order for it to happen, I have to be in a very quiet place, not moving, not talking, etc. Then I can feel some core to myself. Some sense that all this is connected inside this body I live in. But as soon as I begin to DO anything, or even talk to someone, it's like a crack opens and different parts come shimmying through to take me over.

I think this week I start on a trial of ritalin. Maybe this will help. Because I really have lost so much of my ability to be focused. Even writing here, or in my journal, I am in a part. It is the one I call Observer and it works with another called Ravencrow. They are good and powerful parts of myself, but they lack any emotional connection to the rest of me. And that bothers me. Because I know I need to get it all connected somehow. I know I need to see this all as REAL and as ME. This life I'm living is not a film or a play in which I am some miscast character. It is my life. And I want to live it.

I don't want to die. I have parts that are very suicidal--I know that. But I also have survivor parts, and those are getting stronger and stronger. And even though they're parts, they are helping me much more now.

And now I have to stop writing or I am going to spiral into the vortex.

@shimmerz, you said a long time ago that you learned to spot some physical things your body does just before you end up in some part. I have discovered one thing I do (hand flapping). And it is happening now, so I am going to go and plant my peas. :)

 

[shimmerz]

My therapist keeps having me come back to "self." I sort of get this. It does happen sometimes. But in order for it to happen, I have to be in a very quiet place, not moving, not talking, etc.

This is really, really great! A super connection you have made here. I think this is why I am currently really making my world teeeny teeeeny tiiiny. I am concerned that if I have much interaction that I may split again. Hard to explain, but there you have it. I am really coccooning myself in and I hope I will not pay a big price for having done that in times to come.

Hand flapping, I just realized.... I did hand shaking. Hand parallel to my abdomen, wrist limp, quickly and violently shaking my hand. @sun seeker may have some input here as well. For myself, I started shaking my hands violently again when the acupuncturist released my frozen shoulder. Second session in, I believe. The feeling I get when I do this is one of 'great anxiety'. Like I have to move but I don't know how. I think as well that flapping hands (from what I recall of children), has to do with an 'icky' feeling. 'Get away, get away, get away'. I am sure there may be many other reasons as well. Sounds like a part stuck and trying to tell their story though.

Is there a picture that comes to you (or words) when you flap your hands that may express what you are trying to 'get rid of' (if that is the case)? I kind of picture it as stuck energy (icky energy) and with my type of hand shaking, I would say it is pent up 'running' energy. Wanting to get away. For you it may be different.

having me come back to "self." I sort of get this. It does happen sometimes. But in order for it to happen, I have to be in a very quiet place, not moving, not talking, etc.

When I am 'in self' I find that I have very limited awareness of my body. This came to me 2 weeks ago actually. The more 'self' pokes out, the more i realize that self really has never had an awareness of my body and that I must teach it as to how to take care of my body. So I am trying to anchor it to specific actions and breathing patterns. Kind of like teaching it all over again how to be embodied, if that makes any sense at all. I am learning that this isn't just psychological integration. It is physical integration as well, because MY self made a habit of going out of body.

Crazy talk, I know. It seems like crazy talk. But this is the 'voice' that I keep speaking of, that knows wtf is going on and is giving me ideas as to how to pull this integration thing off.

Crap, never mind. I should be booking myself a room somewhere, but haven't quite given up on myself yet. Not sure if ANY of this is helpful to you hon.

Much love
Shimmerz

 

[Hope4Now]

Kind of like teaching it all over again how to be embodied, if that makes any sense at all. I am learning that this isn't just psychological integration. It is physical integration as well, because MY self made a habit of going out of body.

Yes, me too. This is exactly it. What I am working on. It is very hard. I do ridiculous things to try to teach my brain that I have this body thing I live in.

Crazy talk,

Not at all. Well, maybe sort of, but I totally understand it. So if you're talking it and I'm understanding it, then it's not crazy, right?

haven't quite given up on myself yet.

Please don't ever do that. It would devastate me. And many others.

Not sure if ANY of this is helpful to you hon.

You're mostly always helpful, my dear friend.

The feeling I get when I do this is one of 'great anxiety'. Like I have to move but I don't know how.

Yes, this is it. It is a sense of total overwhelm. Like I don't know what to do or where to go or how to move or what to think or how to feel. Just pure raw energy. And the ramp speed from the flapping to bad things is lightning fast. So I have to start figuring out what the feelings are BEFORE the hand flapping thing starts. And, of course, that requires body awareness. Which I am severely impaired in many ways.

I am sleeping a wild amount. Flashing a wild amount. Nightmares. Feels like the volcano is erupting. My therapist is so calm and collected though. I told him, "You know when I told you a while ago I felt like I was turning inside out? Well, I think I have." He just says, "Yes, a lot is coming to the surface now." I suppose I am very glad to have a therapist who doesn't panic when he sees/hears about the weird stuff I do. It helps me believe that maybe I can be okay. He did talk me out of a crazy notion that maybe I could do the Camino de Santiago by bike this summer. Pointing out that the fact I did a little river walking this weekend and spent some time in the woods wore me out might suggest that a trip like this would be a bit much.

My life gives whole new meaning to that old saying, "The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak."

My new idea...electric assist bicycle. Or motor scooter. The people in VT wouldn't let me ride horses on a trail because of my physical issues. I was devastated. I have GOT to get out and go.

 

[KwanYingirl]

Hi @Hope4Now and @shimmerz my therapist told me I don't or didn't have the words to describe my inner life. Still don't. But I read what you both so eloquently describe and you are my people!! I also have two known parts, but Shaman says there's more. I believe that to be true. My experience with day to day living is chaotic, I am constantly drifting between one mind or another. It is exhausting. And it scares the shit out of me. My body is still mostly frozen and I really have no language to describe that.

I am so dumbstruck that I can't even find words to explain what my 'self' is. My genuine self? Or my random drifts into other 'selves'? It's better for me to bring myself back to my breath when I'm overwhelmed or confused about what the hell I've been doing or saying or more often, forgetting. Physiologically, when my limbic system is activated, then there's no rational thoughts. I am freezing or fainting or running like mad. But when I can read stories that others are able to articulate, I am comforted. I don't at all mean to suggest that your experiences are not tragic. It is a tragedy. That you can describe your inner life shows how much progress you have made. Let's face it. We've been dragging these suitcases of baggage for years and only in the past few years are unpacking it.

I just want to thank you for the gift of knowing you and that I don't wish you sorrow, although I know there is much of that, but in the midst of it, you offer me hope and examples of how to speak your truth. Namaste ladies.

 

[KwanYingirl]

By the way, and a plea for help: I am having 8 teeth pulled on Friday. I am so anxious. I am terrified. I can't afford to be put to sleep for it, so will be awake. It's all my upper front teeth and then he will place a denture on my now bloody gums. I have seen my denture and it was made by a real sculptor it even has the slight gap I used to have between my front teeth. That's a lot of pain right??