Little Girl Blue painting

Tonight's Night Sky a 20 minute painting

Who am I

I was sexually assaulted at least twice every single week of my childhood

I prayed to become a tiny stone imbedded in concrete because then I couldn't be hurt

The Life of an Alter, Living with Multiple Personality Disorder

 This is the life story of Guardian, an Internal Self Helper/ISH, in our internal System. Like the majority of alternate personalities, Guardian has a creation or birth date 1965 (when we were around 2 years old) and was created due to a specific overwhelming and painful situation. Guardian had an age, a purpose, and an ongoing function. 

Guardian was created because we found ourselves in a situation in which we could not escape. We were 2 years old, and whenever we opened our mouth to speak, our mother would come running and smartly, squarely, slap us across the face. We must have been saying something that upset and bothered her deeply for her to have such an extreme reaction. Working with our Therapist, we have surmised that when we were learning and starting to speak aloud that we were probably using words that were indicative of us being heavily sexually abused. Most likely words that named "unmentionable" body parts or were descriptive of sexual acts that we were regularly engaged in. Our father was molesting us daily so it is very possible our language consisted of such words.

We learned that whenever we opened our mouth to speak, there was a high potential to receive a most painful, burning slap. Thus, was created Guardian, short for Guardian Angel. Being strict Catholics, we would have been exposed to statues and prayers devoted to Guardian Angels. In the Catholic church especially, every child had at least one special Guardian Angel that was with them and protected them at all times. Somehow, Guardian Angel/GA was created to keep us from talking thus preventing us from being slapped. GA appeared to us as if a beautiful statue made of concrete, like the ones that adorn cemeteries and gardens. We equated him with being male and having masculine qualities in voice and appearance.

GA became our first extensive ISH as he worked at all times. It is as if he stood at a gateway between our Internal world and the external world. All words spoken had to first be approved by him. There was often a delay, a lapse in what we thought and what we spoke because words were being checked over and censored by Guardian. Guardian was a Gatekeeper and a Censor, always working. That takes a lot of internal energy to have one alter constantly scanning and reading the internal and external environment. He was like a motor that was always on and always consuming fuel. I could think of him as a small entryway right before the big gate between in and out. He rarely spoke but had a say in everything that we said aloud. He saved us from getting hit by the mother. He performed a vital and important job. He saved us when we could not save ourselves. He prevented a great deal of physical, bodily harm.

In a way, it was like walking and behaving within an all-encompassing shield, an invisible barrier. He created distance, if only centimeters or inches, between us and everything outside of us. He was our human shield and glad to be of service. He never answered to anyone but himself. His intentions were always pure and in our best interest. One of the smartest, most reliable and trustworthy of alters.

Then, in 2022, we realized that mother was no longer there to potentially slap us. In fact, we were completely physically removed from all family members via death or 2,000 miles. We realized that we were safe. Guardian no longer needed to work. The danger, the reason for his creation was now null and void.

A few days after we realized this fact, I went inside to look for Guardian. Even now, when I say his name, I feel him and I see sparkles all around, like shiny pieces of snowlike glitter glistening all about. Each breath, every time I close my eyes, I can feel and sense him. He transformed like an implosion but he didn't cease to be, rather the energy signature that was him is now dispersed and an integral part of who I am. He did not leave. He is part of me. He did not die. He lives on in a different form, sparkles, pinpoints of light that always surround me. I need not go searching for him as I easily sense him.

When an alter's job or function is no longer needed, it is the natural course of action for that alter to transform and become closer to the greater whole of who we are. I have experienced this happen on at least a dozen different occasions. The System was built to protect us. Each alter was specifically created out of need and necessity. I am grateful for each and every one. I am grateful for Guardian and the huge amount of work he did and the immense sense of security he gave us. 

I will admit, the first few weeks when Guardian transformed, we felt exposed and vulnerable. On many occasions, we explicitly asked Therapist to promise not to hit us because with Guardian gone, it felt like we could get smacked by anyone who was physically close enough to us to inflict damage.

Alters don't die. They never die. They just transform and live on in different form.

Guardian 1965-2022, Internal Self-Helper, Censor, Gatekeeper

Dissecting a memory of childhood rape

The strangest and saddest true statement that you will never read or hear anywhere else, the first time I was raped as a child, by a stranger and not by a family member or a person my family agreed had their permission to sexually assault me. I was 5 years old and living in Saginaw Michigan.

This tragic and traumatic incident left me with at least four lasting and heartily ingrained fears. The four are: fear of being in a building or store near closing time or when it feels like I am alone within a store; fear of going up steep steps ( a heavy anxiety that I feel readily within my right foot where this memory also originated from that physical area) and not being able to get back down the steps much like climbing a ladder is easier than descending a ladder and being aware of the height; fear of having someone behind me on the steps as if they are blocking my exit and I feel trapped (this one I have noticed especially on vacation when visiting lighthouses that are basically so narrow as to only allow one person on the steps at a time.); agoraphobia or fear of leaving the house. I think of this more in terms of being afraid to leave the house for fear I will not be able to return safely home.

The four fears simplified: being in a store near closing, climbing steep stairs, having my exit blocked, being away from home and not being able to get back.

The incident started clothed in an innocent walk to the corner store with a dime and a nickel in hand. My mother had sent me to the corner grocery store completely alone sans my usual walking and store companion, my older brother, Alby. The deep forest green of the store's exterior was a familiar sight as the store was on the same block as our house, and served as the place for mom to send brother and me so that she could stay home and care for baby brother and sister. Being 6 and 5 years old in the 1960's was allowed more freedom and privileges than children have nowadays. Sending children to the store for groceries or even with a note asking for cigarettes was an agreed upon social norm. I didn't feel nervous or anxious walking that half block to the truly corner store by myself as the route and the surroundings were very familiar.

The store owner, who I will call "Owen" because I do not know his name and Owen reminds me of "owner", greeted me with his usual smile, or rather, the outer ends of his walrus moustache turned slightly up. Owen was a familiar face with badling head, short dark hairs above the ears, and bespectacled with gold rimmed glasses. His eyes lit up when he saw me as they always did.

Small talk was engaged. The only thing I remember of the conversation was when Owen asked me if I wanted to go upstairs to see his new cat. I readily agreed because I liked kitties and hadn't seen one in awhile. 

Owen smiled broader and went over to the door and flipped the entry sign from Open to Closed and flipped off the lights. I stood in the doorway between store and the backroom confused by the sudden changes. The sign, the sign said "open" but it was pointing inward to the slightly darkened store front. It was daylight out but Owen and his store was now closed for business. It felt odd, ominous, standing in the doorway, the midpoint between who I was before and the terrified, deeply scarred victim I would shortly become. 

Part of me stayed within that doorframe watching the door. Maybe that part of me was confused or maybe hopeful that someone would come to the door.

I remember walking through the doorway, turning left and seeing the long staircase that stretched upwards to the door to Owen's home, his apartment, the place he lived in that was directly above his store. The length of the steps truly surprised me. It looked like a story and a half tall. The stairs were unlike any I had seen. The steps were nothing more than a piece of wood atop two frames, an open staircase whereby you could see through and under if you looked down. I did not like this one single bit. I took one step and then slowly took another. My feet, especially my right foot,  Small pieces get illuminated when lighting strikes.

My body was fighting him. Physically, my legs were kicking and my arms were trying to swing. He had my arms pinned down pretty well with his left hand grabbing my forearm and pinning it over my right arm, and pinning both sharply to my chest, so much so that i can feel the constriction across my chest. It was as if my body was divided into two parts, upper and lower. My upper body had been completely immobilized while my lower body was swinging and kicking and being harmed.

Owen hurt me. Even after I asked and told him to "let me go", Owen continued in his quest to get into my pants. He pressured me, forcibly put himself between my legs with his body part. This wasn't like when dad did it. Yes, that is the foremost thought in my mind, that this rape was different than dad's daily and weekly sexual assaults. I didn't understand what was going on. 

Why was he hurting me? Did dad know about this? I'm going to tell dad as soon as he gets home from work. Why is Owen doing this to me? 

I thought about home. How was I going to get home. I'd have to go down the stairs. I didn't know if I could go down the stairs. Maybe if I didn't look and held onto the railing and closed my one eye and just squinted out of the other, maybe then I could do it. 

Home. My house. While Owen was on top of my struggling to rub off, I wanted to go home. My huse wasn't more than a half block away. I bet if I looked out the window, I could see it. I knew which direction it was in. I wondered if I'd ever get home again. It was a mistake. I shouldn't have gone to the store today. I should not have left my house. Why did I not stay home? I got myself into big trouble. I should not have said that I wanted to see the cat. I did wrong. I did bad. I made a mistake of coming up the stairs. I shouldn't have. I really wanted to go home and I felt like I would never make it back there even though it was a short ways away.

It wasn't long. I don't think it was long time. I think it was some minutes. It didn't feel like forever like with dad and his friends that sometimes takes long, long time. This was a shorter one. But it changed me. 

I was furious. I was scared. I was angry and fighting him on the outside and me and my decisions and fate on the inside.

Finally, he finished. He stopped. He got up off his knees and pulled up his pants. He walked out into his kitchen and I heard water running. He left gross on me. Again, just like dad, the gross on my legs. Owen returned with a washcloth and towel. He was nervous as he voice wasn't steady anymore. It was a shaky voice that went up and down and was higher than I had ever heard it.

"Don't tell your mother, please. Don't tell her. I can't have you saying this to anyone, okay? Here, here, let's go downstairs and get some candy. Bubble gum and a sucker? You always like those. Today, you can have two of each. You were so good," he said or thereabouts. I just remember the way his voice changed mostly.

I don't remember the walk down the stairs. That segment of the memory is still removed, is within a different part of me, or was discarded. I do recall walking back through the darkened store and grabbing the hand of the alter, the part of me that was still in the doorway watching the door. Owen had to use his key to unlock the front door. 

We walked out, turned around and stood staring at the door and Owen patting down his hair and walking to his counter. We looked up to see the second floor window where we were moments ago. We looked at our hands with two Tootsie Pops and two Bazookas. We felt the hot and hurt from between our legs. We were so overwhelmed that we just stood there trying to process a rape at 5 years old. It was different than with dad that much was sure. We felt violated which we didn't notice when it was dad. 

We felt changed inside and out. That store wasn't safe anymore. That man wasn't safe anymore. I wondered if all men were like that and wanted that and wanted to do that to me. I/we stood there a long time. Then we started the short walk home. It hurt to walk. That was new, too. Our body did not feel right, like it was completely different now.

We painfully walked into our house. Mom asked were the bread was, the food I was supposed to get from the store. I didn't answer. Didn't even think about the bread or where the fifteen cents were that I once had. I stood in the entryway of the living room with my hands full of ill-gotten goods that I no longer wanted. Mother stopped hollering from the kitchen and came into the living room. Her eyes got big. She knew something was wrong because I was in shock and frozen where I stood. She grabbed both of my upper arms and shook me in an attempt to get me to speak.

I told her. I blurted out that Owen had taken me to his room and he hurt me, held me down and made his part rub against me. 

Mom's eyes turned big and angry. At some point (I fade as this is enough and too much) that day mom went to the store, confronted him, his wife showed up and mom yelled at them. We never went to that store ever again and we moved to Grand Rapids a short time later.

It pains me to remember but it is a pivotal and important event in my life. Currently working with Therapist to come to terms with this and start to heal these horrible fears that I have been carrying with me for 52 years.

The first time I was raped by a non-family member or someone not allowed by my dad. I was 5. It seriously wounded me. 

Love Lessons

We all have lessons we must learn. It feels like my predominant one is that we had to learn how to live without a parent, caregiver, or outside person to love us.

It's hollow, empty, sad, and can evoke fits of rage and jealousy at times.