I didn't know life would be so hard

That there would be so many goodbyes. And so few hellos.

Shutdown Day 2 Autistic Again

Continuing the shutdown exhaustion. Sigh. I've really got to learn to accept these bouts of nothing but sleep and rest, yet at the same time actively plan to lessen them.
I'm confident the highly effective acupuncture plays a major role. I've cancelled next week's appointment. The pattern has consistently been one acu session equals 2-3 days of exhaustion. This past Thursday my practitioner did an abbreviated session, yet here I sit unable to function. Thus I will reduce the sessions to once every 2 weeks and clear my schedule for the day of and the day following. I just cannot see the benefits of losing 3 days Each week for healing. There must be a less costly way. Sigh.
I'm working slowly to get my overdue household chores done. I've thus far managed to get the dishwasher loaded and running. Yay me!!
Next goal is laundry, however, I can't foresee that happening today. My laundry basket is parked at the front door as it has been for three days now.
I manage to take puppy out when she needs to go. That's my biggest energy expenditure and mighty important.
I have zero appointments scheduled next week. Hoping to catch up and spend quality time with my girlfriend.

Healing with Five Element Acupuncture and Dreams

I've finally located a highly competent acupuncturist after months of futility. A skilled passionate practitioner who listens, hears and knows how to apply the diagnostic principles is a true gift. My body, mind and soul have healed more in the past month then the previous years.
Where to start?
Healing acupuncture produces results as well as side effects. When I schedule a treatment I've learned to keep that day and the next as free as possible as I always fall into a mighty heavy slumber for at least a couple of days. Treatment is profound and my system needs sleep to process these new changes.
Last week after my session, I had nightmarish dreams in which things were completely out of my control. I was in a car, in a parking lot and I had no control over the vehicle. I was slowly careening into one parked car after another and I couldn't stop. I had four similar dreams in succession as I'd jar myself awake in distress only to be unable to keep my eyes open.
Today when I returned home (I discussed my upsetting symptoms with my practitioner and she adjusted treatment accordingly) I immediately fell asleep for six hours, awakening only because I needed to attend to my puppy. My dreams were vivid yet completely opposite of the previous ones.
I was in a fire truck, completely in control, driving around slowly realizing I didn't require such a vehicle so I searched for a place to park it. I was getting ready to park when I realized I was partially on train tracks and I could see the train come my way. Without panic, I was able to maneuver the fire truck off the tracks and park it safely.
The second part of this dream, I was making my way to the train station when I came upon a section of the boardwalk/ sidewalk which had a 10 foot broken tract which I needed to cross. I was a bit peeved that the boardwalk wasn't better maintained but I easily crossed the gap without slowing down. No sweat.
Within the train station there were many rooms. I entered one and saw the dreaded grandmother and my gramps sitting quietly. I chose not to deal with her, simply turned around, walked out and shut the door. In the hall, I ran into my oldest cousin. I hadn't seen her in many years and I love her. Somehow there was a way by which I could actually visit her home. I chose to do this. As we walked along a hill, we encountered a 10 foot cliff which we'd have to descend. I asked her how we would cross. She motioned to an old, gnarly brown tree trunk. I tested the trunk with a push and it broke, tumbling to the ground on a picnic table, narrowly missing a couple picnicers.
It was a near miss. I knew enough to test the waters of a path someone else used successfully. I needed to find the way that would work for me.
I met my dear cousins son, in the dream, for the first time ever. Oh my, we hit it off immediately, speaking the same language and actively engaged in fun and play. I smile remembering the delight of being with him. We spent considerable time together.
Next, I walked into a train waiting room with tall brown benches. Family members, my bio family, sat or milled about. I noticed my one annoying aunt was there. She started talking with me and I simply got up and left. I had freedom and the ability to walk away...very new for me.
The last room was the most interesting.
A stewardess walked by and five tall Asian men approached forming a circle around me. They had gone on a quest, a journey to locate me. One man spoke with me as the others remained silent, reverent.  His shoulders were absurdly tall and his head was a full foot lower on his trunk. I don't know that he spoke words, in so much that he executed various martial arts moves with his arms. (My acupuncture today involved only a few points. Two on my upper chest and three on each outer wrist. This fact comes into play somehow.)
It's as if the man, by his movements, was trying to elicit my inner, sage, martial art master. He wasn't threatening or daring me to fight or demonstrate. He was communicating with gestures his master would know.
And somewhere deep within, I understood him and responded with, what I consider to be very basic, martial arts arm gestures and movements. As I did this, which I thought was nothing special simply innate, the other men would "oh" and "ah", impressed, happy to have found whom they did seek. I am part Master. Very respectful. Profound dream!!!
This past week, my inner wisdom determined that the Celexa anti-anxiety, anti-depressant that I had been taking daily for over seven years, was no longer needed. I immediately stopped taking it without any side effects whatsoever.
My acupuncturist believes it's because my brain has learned how to produce it's own serotonin for the first time ever. I concur. This is Huge! I attribute it to this wondrous acupuncture and my acupuncturist. God is good.
Lots of positives taking place.
It's Healing time.

Hiking the Oregon Coast Trail

So, I've been thinking about my next impossible challenge. I've dealt with impossible challenges most of my life die to circumstances beyond my control, thus I've decided to undertake one of my own freewill and volition.
The Oregon Coast Trail is 385-425 miles depending on where you read. It looks to be a 30-45 Day thru hike. By this summer I hope to be in shape, have the appropriate gear and equipment, complete thorough research and go for a hike.
I've amassed a small collection of books and maps. I'm up to walking 4 miles a day and I need to be able to complete 10-15 miles per day for a couple of weeks before I can determine if this adventure is feasible.
This Is my goal. Working on getting there. This feels like my next logical step forward in my personal evolution.
I'm excited.

Third Reality, the Multiple's Inner World

I came across this, another phrase for the Multiple Inner World:

Dissociative identities exist in a third reality (Kluft 1998, 2000) an inner world that is visualized, heard, felt and experienced as real.
This Third Reality is often characterized by trance logic. In trance logic, ideas and relationships of ideas about things in reality are not subject to the rules of normal logic. Because they are kept in separate "compartments" contradictory beliefs and ideas can exist together, they do not have to make sense. In this way the internal world contains many  subjectives that experience themselves as separate people. There is a pseudodelusional sense of separateness and independence (Kluft,1998). Trance logic is characteristic of dreams and hypnosis. Because of this freedom from logical critique, identities existing in a person's Third Reality may seem fantastical.
Understanding and Treating Dissociative Identity Disorder

4th and 5th Grade Were Brutal

I was contemplating bad times. The span of my 10th and 11th years of age popped up as an extremely harsh time. At first, I attributed it to the difficulties of my dad struggling at work, can't remember if he was unemployed at this time or simply not bringing enough money home, as the hunger was pretty prevalent as well as the gas being shut off I intermittently for lack of payment.
In addition, these years covered the newly uncovered prostitution that I was forced into on weekends and occasional Thursday nights, my grandmother was amusing herself through torturing me mostly with matches, sexual abuse and explicit threats and I was constantly sick physically from stifling my abuses.
It makes sense that these two years are divided amongst many alternate personalities as the abuse load was high, critical really.
It had gotten to the point that almost every waking moment and sleepless night I was working to suppress, suppress, suppress and hide all my emotions. I was also actively suicidal and grossly depressed. I wore my dark feelings and others began to notice and see that I wasn't well.
My mother had taught me that whenever I felt something unpleasant happening, say an incestuous moment with my dad, that I was to be certain never to speak of it as if I kept quiet then I could pretend it wasn't real and it didn't happen. How sick was that to be trained by my own mother to never acknowledge the sick, perverted, painful stuff that was happening each day.
I swallowed all those sad and bad feelings. It's like suffocating a little more each day. The less I spoke, the more they got away with doing stuff to me. I was drowning in silent truths day by day with no end in sight. Of course I was depressed and suicidal.
I'm not silent anymore. I've got so much more to say. Stay tuned. Listen.

Self-Effacing

And then, out of nowhere, I think of how my ex would describe me, and the words Self-Effacing spring to mind and I have to look it up because I didn't know I knew that word and had no clue what it meant.
Self-Effacing : not claiming attention to oneself, retiring and modest

The Magic Daughter quotes

One model of dissociation suggests that a Multiple can excise four cross-sections of experience from the working memory: physical sensation, behavior, knowledge and emotion. All four aspects can be excised at once, effectively sealing off an entire memory for many years, but the four will not necessarily be stored together nor will they necessarily return in any way that immediately makes sense.
Dissociative barriers cannot be breached at will, nor is it possible to predict when barriers might decay and fall.
The Magic Daughter pgs 77-78

I have traumatic incidents that were broken down into 3 or more alters. One person observed, one felt the physical pain, one the emotional pain and one the terror and panic.
It's reaffirming to read Jane Phillips book.

The Magic Daughter and feeling pain

So, I'm reading this MPD memoir and gathering small yet huge insights.
Reading about the perception of pain. Jane Phillips had a high pain threshold but it was really that she was a "dissociator" (never heard that word before) so she would get really, really sick but not feel sick until she was passing out.
The interesting part for me was when a doctor poked her abdomen and she screamed, however, the subsequent 3x that he poked for pain, she felt nothing. Then after discussing with her therapist, "few dissociators would Allow pain to register the second, third or fourth time. "
This whole pain perception business is a true bane of both Autism and Multiplicity. I need to ease up on myself for both over and under reaction to pain, an often indescribable, hard to pinpoint condition of being In a body.

Shame not needed

Shame is a thin, stealthy, wire veil, a trap, a snare that someone else throws upon you to wear, to try and keep the blame where it truly belongs.
We Have Nothing to be ashamed of. Not one single thing.

Missing My Therapist

I don't know why, I have no reason, but I really miss my last therapist. Spent all of last night reminiscing about her office and our sessions. We had a lot in common as we liked movies and books. We had a really decent rapport that I can't seem to find with the new therapist.
It's like previous therapist, PT, and I got along in a well-rounded way. MPD was new for her but she did the research and instinctively interacted with us amazingly well. I guess I should add that we were probably her first Multiple though I don't know it for sure and it did not show on her part if we were. I entered therapy to deal with life stuff not thinking that I was still a Multiple in hiding. It surprised us both when I first switched. 9 was the one who first appeared and was perplexed by whatever the adult discussion was.
It was like, PT was talking and then lowering her head, straightening her red and white checkered dress daintily with both hands, in a wee voice, as of if a child's she said, "that doesn't make any sense."
PT, never missing a beat or noticing that we had switched, continued on explaining whatever in an adult-to-adult manner.
"I don't understand your big words."
9 was probably just as confused as to way she was being talked to as PT was perplexed by the sudden departure of adult reason from her client.
7 followed closely behind 9 but I have no recall.
The next thing I remember is standing next to PT, and saying, "Oh, by the way, I have Multiple Personality Disorder." To which Therapist replied, "Well, it's not my area of expertise." But it was okay. It worked, us and her. And it worked really well. Sure we had our bumps but there was something undeniable in how we fit and were able to work together. It was profound.
I've spent today looking over the few pictures I have of her. Been crying a lot, too, I guess we just miss her, sitting with her, holding her hand, our last hug, the smile on her face, lol, the way people used to talk about her clothes (polka dot pants!!!), jewelry and the way littles would touch her hair to see if it was real.
We don't do any of that with Now Therapist, NT. Maybe, hence the reminisce and longing for the warmth of that familiarity. Sigh.
NT reminds me more of First Therapist, FT, anyway. (We've only had three therapists with NT being #3.) With First Therapist we were alone. We had Multiple stuff as well as learning to live in our own.  PT dealt as almost an adjunct in that we had the basics covered and while we did some Multiple work, it really centered on a self-discovery thing. I didn't require assistance in day-to-day stuff, schools, apartment living, budgets, etc.
I really think if New Therapist like First Therapist. But NT is a Box therapist. Hmmm, how to say. She works within strict boundaries and we don't dare go near the edges for fear of being cut. There is some weird thingy about it, NT, being a harsh, abrupt environment which makes no sense to me. Puzzling.
Is it that NT and we almost only work in the heavy duty area of flashback, triggers and memories? That there is no time to establish rapport and a ... friendly banter?
Could it very well be that with NT there is uncertainty as she has met at least a dozen new alters that have never been "out" or "awake" before? That may be it.
Picture a full carousel full of riders and only one person standing in line. Everyone wants to see the One standing in line, but the carousel spins quickly. That could lead to a sense of a disjointed therapeutic alliance. Seems about right.
I don't know. Maybe I just realized how much I liked working with Previous Therapist. She was really neat, really good. We really liked her. We really miss her.

Growing up

Abused, maligned, beaten, ignored and neglected, you learn that it doesn't pay to have wants, needs, hopes and dreams. They will not happen, will not be met.
You learn that no one cares what you think or feel. You learn to invalidate and shove away your needs. You learn to have no wants and that dreams are strictly stuff for sleep.
Abandoned within a house full of people, people that are supposed to be the ones that care about you the most in this world, famous words of my mother "no one will ever love you more than your family" , and the family's version of love is empty, void and perverted, can cause confusion, to put it mildly.
I feel alone, abandoned, adrift with no welcoming port in sight.

Exhaustion

I lay within the clenched palm of exhaustion, of a week within too much occurred for my bodybrain to process. I'm comforted with deep, undressing sleep, a body without the energy to move more than a few inches spaced hours apart.
Thin rivulets of salty water spill from the corners of my eyes without reason known.
*
I wonder if I will ever know the freedom of laughter.
*
I long for one person to know me, to love me, to care. And I don't know if such a demented longing will ever come true.
*
I feel great comfort within many blankets, soft pillows and a sturdy couch that has my back.
*
I pray that few will truly understand these deep wells of sorrow within which I tread.
*
I feel the sadness of loss, of physical abuses upon my person's.
I feel a heart that has been viciously, aggressively broken.
I feel the struggling of my spirit, as it has fought most days, to continue without a solitary external reason to do so.
*
I'm dwelling in the midspace between the external reality and the internal world of caring chaos and peace's unrest.
*
I am the static seeking
*
I do not want what I cannot have and I have no idea what I am deserving or entitled to.
*
There is nothing but me, existing in a body of submerged and surfacing memories that want to breathe and hurt me and heal me as they hit the harsh, cold, icy surface.
*
I want someone, everyone and no one to fully grasp my tenuous, painful bead of a life.
*
Heavy, exhausted sleep is a blessing bliss as I seek to recover from the bubbling memories, the painful body remembrances and coming to terms with how broken I've become aware of, that is.
*
You will find me embedded within silence, rivers waters and far removed from any traffic.
*
Night has been the only one to fully embrace all that I am and hold me near and dear.

The revolving door syndrome

From When Rabbit Howls, pg 281-282
Revolving Door Syndrome - probably the most frantic, confusing time of all for a multiple; yet it happens when the going gets really rough. The people come and go rapidly, yet the changes, while almost constant, are fully formed.

MPD & DID Best Books, Attachment, Trauma & Multiplicity, Quotes & Notes

"As Bowlby himself tells us, we cannot know what we cannot bear to know."

We propose that dissociating individuals are those victims of childhood (sexual) abuse who coped by refusing to conceive of the contents of their caregiver's mind and thus successfully avoided having to think about their caregiver's wish to harm them. They go on to defensively disrupt their capacity to depict feelings and thoughts in themselves and in others.
This leaves them to operate upon inaccurate and schematic impressions of thoughts and feelings and they are thus immensely vulnerable in all intimate relationships.
*
The switching from one state of consciousness to another that is accompanied by facial, postural, motor, speech, affective and cognitive changes in DID is made possible because no core sense of identity exists to which external and internal experiences are invariably referred. 
*
For these rare survivors of unrelenting trauma during childhood, growing up is an experience  (As we shall hear) of "being chronically unloved", alternately neglected then abused, abused then neglected, so that survival was achieved through dissociation and splitting into multiple personalities, each of whom has only partial awareness of the other (s).
*
Pg 39
For adults with DID, they have often experienced from earliest childhood overwhelming evidence of an obstacle to their pursuit of the primary attachment goal, i.e. the wish to be heard, seen, held and understood.
Quickly, they would have learned that to expect such understanding was radically mistaken.
They learn instead to retreat and advance with another, deeply self-protective goal in mind, i.e. the wish to be dumb, invisible, left alone and not interfered with.