Progress

Felt the progress in therapy this week.  More of the teenage girls have come forward, that know love, friendship,  fun and were musicians, dancers who needed and worked hard for their art.  I hear and see them see them singing and playing almost constantly, awesome.  Some spent enough time in the states to become functioning conscious ANP's who knew we would all be heading back to Scotland sooner or later and usually via some English and/or European rings aiming to make a lot of money fast over a few days and were going to work and sell me to get it.  You know it works with sexual abuse, porn and anything else for that matter if you start to get into something.  It was always getting worse.

Sometimes I'd arrange to avoid all that by going back before being picked up from where ever it was that I was starting to think of us as home by a group of government drugged, raped and mind control enforcement agents.  That would leave me back in the UK with a whole heap of knowledge that I hadn't had, instead of waking up without having any idea about having just been carried of an airplane   By arranging to go back myself it was sometimes possible to avoid the welcome rape that generally happened if I had been away somewhere else, being someone else regardless of whether I remembered being away.

Its not pleasant seeing it all in black in white like this but the filth and unlikeliness of it all is on the page, instead of with us.  Its the same with making police statements.  When you make some attempt at describing something that is happening to you when so many parts want to pretend nothing is happening or to wait in the hope it all goes away by itself and then they read it back to you it has always felt incredibly good.  As long as the statement is the truth as much as possible.  It doesn't matter if they are all smirking and rolling their eyes at each other like twelve year olds in Sex Ed.  The police have been friendly and professional just as often with not at the making the statement phase as much as they haven't and its not like I ever really expected there to be in real or legal consequences for any of it for anyone.   Not in the short term anyway.

Book writing fantasies again.  I keep coming up with really good ways to write about all this as fiction and literature then find myself totally lacking in what it would take to actually sit down and write it.  I'm also been thinking about how maybe we should work on drawing skills and give the words a rest for a bit.  Book writing is for old people.

Morning Earth.

Didn't have much to say yesterday. Wee man all snotty and grumpy, didn't want to go out. It was gorgeous outside. There was plenty stuff on the news that no one wanted to know any more about or hear people speak bollocks about so we've mostly been nursing Happy Town. Bit glad that Nemo's Reef died I spent some serious hours on it when my head was spinning the most and its gained some twisted associations. Gaming and weed extremely good at getting us through internal mental health crisis. How to get beyond the bit after the crisis I haven't figured out yet but I'm pretty sure it involves patience and aiming to put body needs first. The usual murk is starting to have a few arcs of colour now, exposing more details in the crap of course but its the colour the eye is drawn to.

X

The tempest is a bit more breezy now.  Thank fuck.  Was able to contexualise a bit better last night and 'I want to go home' isn't distraught anymore, she's too tired.  I have no idea whats its going to be like when I start actually explaining in out loud words whats going when we see therapist later this week.  Hope has started shinning through again although I still feel pretty shaken up.  Still don't care much about the who, what, why, when, how much.  I can't find out from here anyway.  There's often been a strength that I've only noticed when the system is falling apart and all the dissociated, amnesiac ANPs are weeping crumpled heaps on the floor or have jumped ship completely .  I can see how I could of gotten addicted to feeling the access of something closer to the core that happens when systems that have been trundling along start collapsing.  The cores will be aware of this happening long before anyone involved in day to day consciousness will though.

It was rough though.  Not many of us are into suffering like that and not being able to tell anyone what is really going on.  All the confusion, all that intense physical recollections that seem so disconnected from anything else I remember.  That sense that massive chunks of my life and loves, of my development, things that meant everything to me at time had been lost over and over again.  Knowing again, properly how much I can't do this alone and knowing how extreme the DID has been.  Realising, again the actual numbers of adults the were actual abusers or complicit in someway and forgiving myself for still being 13, again.  When the answers start coming its hard to forgive the ignorant thoughts and actions that went on because of stuff that I'd been involved in and then couldn't face after and in very different circumastances.

It's hard to describe how it feels when you realise that the impression of a past where no real fun has ever happened is actually quite wrong.  At least I won't forget about him again.  There is no way I can not be depressed all the time when such as large part of what made me is being denied and blocked out.  When something so significant is shut down like that its impossible to live and enjoy the flesh you are in because its constantly bringing up confusing sensations, nostalgias, terrors and images.  Nothing makes any sense.

What a twat though.  Entirely avoidable.

Rain On.

No wine tonight, we thought it best after the last two nights overindulgences. The cannabis will run out shorty to so there's some anxiety about disassociation getting get of control when it does. Mostly pretty numb between lots of body memories. The relief and joy at having access to good memories washing away the coldness of accepting the horrific stuff. For now. No one seems very sure who should be doing what. The front of house staff have left there desks leaving a new and unsure part time temp and a well meaning work experience boy to run the show. They are baring up pretty well so far but reinforcements are going to have to come from somewhere. I hate the feeling that I'm rising out of the body, away from the I. There's too many cult parts that aren't articulate that interpret that feeling as very, very bad news. Beth wants to say hello. She's not sure about pictures but is beginning to see the point of them. She's a bit posh and well presented. Smells nice. The narrator is a shadowy fuker or so s/he would like to think and has had various forms over many years. Goes by Ed. - The Editor.

One Of Those Nights.

The approach at the moment is based on eating, drinking and smoking. Not one we think should be continued into the long term but its tried and tested. There are parts that eat for those who can't and parts that have just woken up from long sleeps and are hungry. The body? Well l'm bloated. The hurt parts that internalised physco sis are petrified. Just believe none of it happened is the only thing to do. The warrior ones, from ancient civilisations, the only ones objective enough to deal with the modern ones. Some of whom have to be restrained permanently because they are completely broken and have serious amounts of training in the violent arts. There's the animals who look after my heart, soul and anything else precious. They keep the field clean and keep the little's who hold the worst trauma cozy and asleep.

Over Here.

First post from my bed on the budget tablet so we will see how it goes. Tunes are essential sometimes aren't they? I can't always here music properly. Then something allow happen and start being able appreciate all the different parts. Gotta be repeated though - wtf. So apparently its wine night again. I'd rather it wasn't though. There was a fair amount of over indulgence in booze and food last night. May holiday has put money in early so that's a relief. There's weed here to so we were not depressed as well. Could do with another parent. Or 20. There was so much acting, role play, scripts and sets going on that I can't see going back to that would be a good idea, especially at this point in the healing journey. Animation though. I feel out enough, l know enough to know how good we've got it. I remember enough to know I live a life have dreamed about and thought could never happen. The tit for tat. It's outside anyone's control. All we can do is not get sucked in and be glad we're old enough to know it. Its road from here to there, its bumpy.

400th post..

We were doing work on the naked truth - short story she called it.  Story asks the naked truth why she is crying, she says people keep inviting her in then kick her out again, Story says she needs to be dressed in order to be accepted, so her light doesn't blind them and so they have time to except her pain without being overcome (our telling, not the drama therapist's).  It used to bounce about the brain a lot as a child, very timely to come back to it now.


That psych apparently mentioned, 'False Memory Syndrome' to my DID therapist.  Nice rigorous empirical approach then...  She has sent him some material.  I'm wary of these psych investigations that he's got lined up but I've already got the safe place and started the treatment for the disassociations and all the different parts so there is no desperate need to be begging NHS mental health services for help, takes the pressure off a bit.  Like abusers and dodgy police the worst mental health professional have a hormonal response when they come in contact to vulnerable people, they can't help exploiting their position to negatively impact someone else because it gratifies a need to regularly inflate their egos.  When they are not triggered by the needs of people who it is their job to help, predatory mental health professionals appear to be good at their jobs and easy to get on with.  Now that I don't need anything to survive from whoever is going to be preforming these tests on me on us is much more likely to be charming and considerate.  The impact their diagnosis or lack of them on 'ongoing police investigations into living people' is out of my control, the DID is proof to me that I have done all I can for now.  Right now it's all about fully integrating myselfs with the knowledge that it's DID and not a Satanic spell, demon possession, evil twin, ghost of an unregistered child, all made up by my family, some super soldier ultra elite programming that can't be challenged and if I did a nuclear holocaust when ensue or just 'the drugs'.

The only way there is going to be better a understanding of the existence of organised and severe child abuse and its long term psychological impact on victims any where is if survivors engage with the existing systems. Of course its fucking hard.  It's the same systems that promoted and trusted our abusers and protected their activities but none of the bullshit is going to be challenged by survivors bursting into tears and hiding under they duvet to cry then permanently refusing to further engage every time a doctor, nurse, charity worker, police says something bloody stupid.  For us, unraveling the DID is much more important right now and most helpful to everyone rather than making calls to the police that aren't returned or scouring twitter for abuser names and seeing what pops up to give a mental and emotional kicking.

Chest pains recently have been helping put things into perspective recently as well, so loading myself with ginger and garlic and feeling a lot more philosophical.  I know smoking nicotine regularly for years is a pretty nasty thing to do to yourself.  It was insisted on by some pimps especially in early to mid teens because it shows a girl abuses her body or something, they didn't do anything that wasn't nasty.  Keeps you feeling ill, gets the body used to be being addicted to something.  So in some sort of attempt at self care I went to buy myself a pipe to try and wean myself off the baccy.  I came home with what is definitely a crack pipe, although it did not occur to me at the time.  I am very aware of the reason for buying it at time, I like the option of the wee hole in which pull in cold air along with scorching hot cannabis but this is a proper glass like you see on the movies, crack pipe. I bought gauze too though, it was a nightmare cutting a piece small enough to fit in the tiny hole at bottom of the bowl.  I've used it a couple of times, I haven't smoked anything out of a pipe in years but I remember it takes a while to get into.  I got sore lungs and felt all beautiful and yoga meish afterwards and not like a crack whore.  It's a bit fucked up having the frigging around though.  Amusing to some parts also though. Like keeping and using something from a slayed enemy. So many walls to breakthrough before I can deal with the fag smoking, so much murky family shit and teenage issues. I am trying to start to properly deal with it, I guess...?

I'm not buying any weed next week though.  I buying a cheap tablet so we can bitch about whatevers on the telly to twitter, play games in bed, buy e books.  Were all very excited.