Sometimes it seems like yesterday that my worlds
collided,
and
sometimes it seems like an eternity.
It was 1991, but seemed like
1971.
I was sitting in a meeting with my co-workers when a supervisor directed a statement to the effect "why doesn't the little girl sitting in the back, acting as if she doesn't want to be here......". At that moment, blackness invaded. It was if I were twelve years old and it was happening again. I bolted from the room, from the building, and ended up at the medical clinic, suicidal.
Therapy began. I either wouldn't say anything, or I reported it matter-of-factly. Since I couldn't verbalize how I felt, it was written down and given to my therapist (T) in daily doses.
Slowly he explained why things were so difficult. He introduced me to the diagnosis of Multiple Personality Disorder (now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder) in small digestible pieces, in conjunction with finding/establishing tools that promoted safety and boundaries. An invisible line on the floor was drawn, safety. The boundaries, even invisible, were firm. There was predictably.
Eventually a map of the system was drawn and the known information written down and given to my T. Soon members (parts of Myself) began to listen to and recognize one another's voices and began to talk to each other. They now understood that they were not crazy, but very important parts of Myself.
And the journey continues
January 2000 a dear
friend in an email support group asked a very important question that helped me remember
my hope and the concept of learning and growing. She wrote:
"I too relate to this nothingness you speak of, so now my query is this...how do we create something.. i.e...ourselves out of this nothingness? Any ideas anyone?"
"This is Me" I wrote in reference to Nothingness, "not actually created, but growing and learning." I continued......
I was Nobody all of my life and then came therapy and a great T. I will not believe there ever was a real nothingness--it was and can be a lack of resources--lack of knowledge. When I started to realize that I was the great pretender, doing the right thing because I watched how other people would react, I started to pay more attention.
My T helped me build a solid foundation to who I am. Not me, Emily, but for the whole of Myself. I pulled knowledge from all the members, I heard every word they spoke and I was taught the word Empathy and then I learned what it really meant.
I have learned various emotions, the words, their meanings and how they work and how they feel. I have worked hard to incorporate them into every fiber of my being and now I have enough strength to blend with Myself.I have always been optimistic, of course, I never knew any other way. But sometimes I forget that not everyone is like Me and Us.
I want so much for each of you to believe that their is a you, a somebody, a yourself. I want more than anything for other's to believe that being fragmented means not knowing, or having access to all of the aspects that makes up a whole somebody.
No one says everyone has to be an integrated whole. Though I truly believe there has to be a meeting of the minds, an integration of accepting each other's unique perspectives and perceptions.
Integration for me means having an understanding of where the perspectives or perceptions are coming from and allowing them to be unique for what they are or truly accepting them. Like Empathy. Or giving yourself the right to the feelings that you have, the words that you say and the actions that you do.
There is a deep emptiness on many occasions. A deep dark hole where there seems no escape. A bottomless pit of despair. A grieving for the what-ifs and the should haves. An unspeakable rage. And an alienation from Myself and anyone else within or outside. There is sadness that happiness is just a foot away, but too far to actually grasp. Tears of exhaustion, the anxiety and frustrations, a want to sleep for the rest of this miserable life.
And on occasion there is a glimmer of hope. Where dreams seem to come alive and make me feel alive. Oh yes, I remember... I am... I am alive. A simple little smile, a coy demeanor. A little giggle begins to rise and the smile turns into a crinkled nose, squinted eyes and roaring laughter. The belly hurts--oh that hurts when I laugh so hard, oh don't make me laugh. And the tears roll down my face because I hadn't laughed that hard in ages.
Weariness catches up. Sweet sounds feel my head, children laughing, giggling and enjoying their time together. It's sleepy time for this old girl. I will slip into a nightgown with teddy bears and crawl into a warm bed that has extra pillows and a thick comforter. Tonight I am going to count lambs, those fluffy woolly creatures and wake refreshed for another day of exploration.
Mostly--I am learning that I am growing. I have occasions of this and occasions of that and with each it is so very difficult to remember there is the other. When things are well I want so much to be able to push these feelings deep within.
I would like to think that I could have a reservoir or a bank or something. Someplace where I could hoard the best and draw on it as needed. I want to be able to remember that when the darkness sets in that I will be able to climb out. That pit is not near as deep as it use to be and the ropes are a lot stronger.
I have hope and with this hope I can feel the strength that I have. I didn't create it--I built it from all of very own resources.
