I have so much to say but the words aren’t able to come out. I become overwhelmed by the moon. Alters are going into their places. I’m just waiting, holding my breath.
I’m using every and all skills that I can think of until the date passes. But I’m still afraid of losing more time, I write down my car mileage, I stay awake so there is no chance I can switch in my sleep.
I’m just counting, breathing, pacing, exercising, losing track of hour, days. I miss therapy because I can’t bear to even process the memories surfacing.
I’m running for hours so I can feel my body. The skin I wear feels unlike mine, alters attempt to remove it unsuccessfully.
I sit in my room in the dark just trying to figure out how to get past this part. This is so very different, I give every song on my pandora stations a thumbs down, and now I’m out of skips.
There are oh so many rules in this world. Some are laws that keep the general public safe. There are reasons behind some laws.
But sometimes there is not.
As I continue to work with my last unknown alter, I’m realizing how many rules govern my existence. I create rigidity in my own life because it’s all I have ever know. My abusers set up rules that were ingrained in both myself and my insiders. I become so fixated on rules, at times, I can’t function if something isn’t correct or the way I think it should be done.
But I’m so afraid. I’m afraid of life without rules. I crave rigidity created by my abusers. I wrestle with the idea of recreating abusive patterns in my current life.
My insiders are afraid to sleep. I sleep for three hours most of the time. The newest alter waits for something or someone. The hours just drag, leggo towers are built, my walls somehow become filled with crayon drawing of animals, 6am comes fast and my day just starts.
I get fixated on the amount of hours of sleep. Web-md says I need at least 6, my therapist says she’ll be happy with at least 4. I just can’t stop thinking about all these rules.
My new alter that has just emerged seems to be overwhelmed by both past and present rules.
The past rules are much louder than present. I write lists, set reminders, alarms so that everyone gets equal time. My day is so very scheduled by rules, I need routine. I crave structure, downtime is nerve racking. This new alter self-harms and I think I’m losing time. I don’t remember using all the skips on my pandora station, I have a very good memory.
The road has been so long. I feel as if I have been working through my past for so long. I walk up to my therapists office every week, at the same time knowing that I’m going to feel some uncomfortable feelings for the next 90 mins. Most times I leave, covered in my own vomit, hair a mess, and a headache.
The drive and the night is the worst. I try to put everything back in my head. I attempt to stop my alters from streaming memories. I wish there was a way to know how much longer I need to do this work. It’s draining, I’m just tired- mentally and physically. I persist- I make it through the next 7 days until it is time to go back to that office where my deepest memories emerge.
I reached a point in my recovery where I needed validation. There was something holding me back from true acceptance.
My little guys have a very hard time understands my abusers are dead. I have picture, obituaries but nothing really helped then understand. For some reason I felt compelled to find the place the house that most of my abuse encountered in. It wasn’t my best and brightest idea.
It wasn’t hard to find. The pictures in my mind are exactly correct. Perfect replicas are ingrained in my mind. But something surprised me when I went to see that place, it was the sounds around the area that caused me to break down. I dropped to my knees and just released pure emotion.
The sights of my past had become somewhat desensitized to me, I saw them for so long inside my head. However, looking at that terrible place made me really feel small and powerless. There was an unexplainable empty ness that filled my heart because at that moment my head and my heart connected.
There are moments that make this journey feel so amazing. Today wasn’t a great day, I had a emotion therapy session. I couldn’t get back at the end of session. I had to stay in my T’s waiting area. I don’t like doing that, it’s frustrating to not be as in control as I would like.
My newest and smallest alter didn’t want to go back because she didn’t want to be all alone on her side of my mind. My alters are almost on this side which is my life outside the cult. There is now one and only one alter on the side that wants to return to the group. This alter connecting even a small amount to the other side is a huge step because she’s the last one. The true last alter fighting against this life.
This alter is tough. She’s resistant and testing every ounce of patience I have but it’s nice to know that I have a small army on my side waiting patiently for her to decide to cross over. I know this could take some times, how much I’m not sure. But I guess I can finally say I’m in this for the long run. I’m almost to a different understanding of my self and it’s such a huge weight off my shoulders to actually see this new chapter.
I realized something the other day when I was going to my best friends beach house for the weekend. There was something internally pushing me to stay home and not go do something I was very much looking forward to. The feelings were strong and I usually give in and recently I have been a flaky friend.
I have a new alter that wants to see my Dad. My Dad was very much absent during my childhood. He was busy working, providing for my family the only way he knew. My father had absolutely no idea of my abuse.
My Dad and I have such a great relationship more recently. We have a hobby that we do together that has brought us so much closer together. My dad and I communicate without speaking most of the time. Our relationship is getting strong and it’s exactly what I need right now.
So it only makes sense that I have some separation anxiety from him. He finally has time for me and I want to spend as much time with him as possible. He’s realizing and understanding the person that I have become. He accepts me for who I am and finally views me as normal.
The first 15 years of my life were lacking him. My abusers created a convoluted reality of him that was very untrue. My Dad has always wanted me.
Last weekend I was in the car with my sister driving to dinner. We were talking about a subject matter that I have a lot of knowledge in, I was explaining my reasonings. But for some reason my sister could not let me be right. I asked her why she is continually arguing with my about a certain subject matter. Her answer struck me and I almost wanted to cry.
Since my sister got married she has been somewhat argumentive. She argues subjects that she doesn’t understand and always gets what gse wants because she simply will not stop talking.
But when I asked her why she continually argues with people. She said that growing up she never realized that she could stand up for herself. Our mother told her that she needed to be nice to everyone and not to argue with people.
This was the first time that my sister gave me some validation of my childhood. We were both taught to listen even when people around us were very wrong.
I hope my sister never remembers any abuse. She has everything going for her right now. She’s married, her own apartment and is doing well. If she remembered I don’t know if all of those things could withstand the journey.
People abandon you on this journey. The grip is so goddamn tight that’s it’s suffocating and you can’t breath even if your wearing an oxygen mask. I haven’t had a successful relationship since I remembered my past. I have a filter that causes me to look at the world and understand that there are some horrible people on this earth.
I watch my fan spin in the shadowy darkness. If there is a higher power, I just hope my sister never remembers.