Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Not my work - Flashbacks

Pete Walker, M.A., MFT 925-283-4575

Flashbask Management in Treatment of Complex PTSD

The East Bay Therapist, Sept/Oct 2005
A significant percentage of adults who suffered ongoing abuse or neglect in childhood suffer from Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. One of the most difficult features of this type of PTSD is extreme susceptibility to painful emotional flashbacks. Emotional flashbacks are sudden and often prolonged regressions ('amygdala hijackings') to the frightening circumstances of childhood. They are typically experienced as intense and confusing episodes of fear and/or despair - or as sorrowful and/or enraged reactions to this fear and despair. Emotional flashbacks are especially painful because the inner critic typically overlays them with toxic shame, inhibiting the individual from seeking comfort and support, isolating him in an overwhelming and humiliating sense of defectiveness.

Because most emotional flashbacks do not have a visual or memory component to them, the triggered individual rarely realizes that she is re-experiencing a traumatic time from childhood. Psychoeducation is therefore a fundamental first step in the process of helping clients understand and manage their flashbacks. Most of my clients experience noticeable relief when I explain PTSD to them. The diagnosis seems to reverberate deeply with their intuitive understanding of their suffering. When they understand that their sense of overwhelm initially arose as an instinctual response to truly traumatic circumstances, they begin to shed the awful belief that they are crazy, hopelessly oversensitive, and/or incurably defective.

Flashbacks strand clients in the feelings of danger, helplessness and hopelessness of their original abandonment, when there was no safe parental figure to go to for comfort and support. Hence, Complex PTSD is now accurately being identified by many as an attachment disorder. Flashback management therefore needs to be taught in the context of a safe relationship. Clients need to feel safe enough with the therapist to describe their humiliating experiences of a flashback, so that the therapist can help them respond more constructively to their overwhelm in the moment.

Without help in the moment, the client typically remains lost in the flashback and has no recourse but to once again fruitlessly reenact his own particular array of primitive, self-injuring defenses to what feel like unmanageable feelings. I find that most clients can be guided to see the harmfulness of these previously necessary, but now outmoded, defenses as misfirings of their fight, flight, freeze, or fawn responses. These misfirings then, cause dysfunctional warding off of feelings in four different ways:

  1. fighting or over-asserting one's self with others in narcissistic and entitled ways such as misusing power or promoting excessive self-interest;
  2. fleeing obsessive-compulsively into activities such as workaholism, sex and love addiction, or substance abuse (uppers');
  3. freezing in numbing, dissociative ways such as sleeping excessively, over-fantasizing, or tuning out with TV or medications ('downers');
  4. fawning in self-abandoning and obsequious codependent relating. (The fawn response to trauma is delineated in my earlier article on "Codependency and Trauma" in The East Bay Therapist, Jan/Feb 03).

As clients learn that their originally helpful defenses now needlessly hinder them, they can begin to replace them with the anxiolytic and therapeutic responses to flashbacks that are outlined and listed at the end of this article. I introduce this phase of the work by giving the client a copy of this list of cognitive, affective, somatic and behavioral techniques to use as a toolbox outside of the session. These tools are also elaborated ongoingly in our sessions. I continually notice that the clients who acquire the most recovery are those who carry the list with them or post it up conspicuously at home until they are thoroughly conversant with it.

As clients begin to derive benefit from responding more functionally to being triggered, there are more opportunities to work with their active flashbacks in session. In fact, it often seems that their unconscious desire for mastery 'schedules' their flashbacks to occur just prior to or during sessions. In helping them to achieve some mastery, my most ubiquitous intervention is helping them to deconstruct the outmoded alarmist tendencies of the inner critic. This is essential, as Donald Kalshed explicates throughout The Inner World of Trauma, because the inner critic grows rampantly in traumatized children and because the inner critic is the primary initiator of most flashbacks. The psychodynamics of this is that continuous abuse and neglect force the child's inner critic [superego] to overdevelop hypervigilance and perfectionism - hypervigilance to recognize and defend against danger, and perfectionism to try to win approval and safe attachment. Unfortunately, safety and attachment are rarely or never experienced. Hypervigilance progressively devolves into intense performance anxiety and perfectionism festers into a virulent inner voice that increasingly manifests self-hate, self-disgust and self-abandonment at every imperfection. Eventually the child grows up, but she is so dominated by feelings of danger, shame and abandonment, that she is unaware that adulthood now offers many new resources for achieving internal and external safety. She is stuck seeing the present as rife with danger as the past.

I sometimes think of this phase of the work as rescuing the client from the hegemony of the critic. Despite the negative connotation rescuing has in many circles, I believe there is an unmet childhood need for rescue that I help meet when I 'save' my client from the critic. like mom didn't save her from abusive dad, or like the neighborhood didn't rescue her from her alcoholic family. This rescue process then, is a gradual emancipation from self-alienation, and a gradual deliverance from the internalized parents who trigger the client with flashback-inducing catastrophizations and perfectionistic invectives. If no one shows the trauma-locked individual that extrication from the self-torturing processes of the critic is possible, he rarely learns to rescue himself. He may live forever without discovering that he now has a variety of helpful responses [detailed in the list below] available to him to resist the triggering and exacerbating dynamics of the critic.

Over the course of therapy, I often reframe flashbacks as messages from the wounded inner child about the denied or minimized traumas of childhood. In this vein I paint flashbacks as the inner child righteously clamoring for validation of past parental abuse and neglect. Flashbacks are the child pleading for unmet developmental needs to be met, none more important than the gradual awakening of a healthy sense of self-compassion and self-protection. This is fundamental to recovery because without self-compassion, clients rarely evolve any substantive self-care habits. Similarly, without reconnecting to the instinct of self-protection, clients rarely develop effective resistance to either internal or external abuse.

When clients get that their emotional storms are messages from an inner child who is still pining for a healthy inner attachment figure, they gradually become more self-accepting and less ashamed of their flashbacks, their imperfections and their overall affective experience. They understand that the lion's share of the energy of their intense emotional reactions in the present are actually appropriate but delayed reactions to various themes of their childhood abuse and neglect. As they learn to effectively assign this emotional energy to those events and perpetrators, they metabolize and work through these feelings in a trauma-resolving way. This in turn leads to a reduction of the emotional energy that fuels their flashbacks, and flashbacks in turn, become less frequent, less intense and less enduring. Eventually flashbacks can even begin to automatically invoke a sense of self-protection as soon as the individual realizes she is triggered. Eventually this can even happen at the moment of triggering, as well as just before encountering known triggers.

Some final words. I have seen so many of my clients respond well to this model, even those who 'only' suffered neglect, I have come to conceptualize Complex PTSD as being on a continuum of severity. In this vein, it seems that with enough neglect, certain children automatically over-identify with the superego and adopt an intense form of perfectionism that, via the critic's "not good enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough, not helpful enough, etc.," triggers them over and over into painful abandonment flashbacks every time they are remotely less than perfect or perfectly pleasing.

MANAGING FLASHBACKS

  1. Say to yourself: "I am having a flashback". Flashbacks take us into a timeless part of the psyche that feels as helpless, hopeless and surrounded by danger as we were in childhood. The feelings and sensations you are experiencing are past memories that cannot hurt you now.
  2. Remind yourself: "I feel afraid but I am not in danger! I am safe now, here in the present." Remember you are now in the safety of the present, far from the danger of the past.
  3. Own your right/need to have boundaries. Remind yourself that you do not have to allow anyone to mistreat you; you are free to leave dangerous situations and protest unfair behavior.
  4. Speak reassuringly to the Inner Child. The child needs to know that you love her unconditionally- that she can come to you for comfort and protection when she feels lost and scared.
  5. Deconstruct eternity thinking: in childhood, fear and abandonment felt endless - a safer future was unimaginable. Remember the flashback will pass as it has many times before.
  6. Remind yourself that you are in an adult body with allies, skills and resources to protect you that you never had as a child. (Feeling small and little is a sure sign of a flashback)
  7. Ease back into your body. Fear launches us into 'heady' worrying, or numbing and spacing out.
    [a] Gently ask your body to Relax: feel each of your major muscle groups and softly encourage them to relax. (Tightened musculature sends unnecessary danger signals to the brain)
    [b] Breathe deeply and slowly. (Holding the breath also signals danger).
    [c] Slow down: rushing presses the psyche's panic button.
    [d] Find a safe place to unwind and soothe yourself: wrap yourself in a blanket, hold a stuffed animal, lie down in a closet or a bath, take a nap.
    [e] Feel the fear in your body without reacting to it. Fear is just an energy in your body that cannot hurt you if you do not run from it or react self-destructively to it.
  8. Resist the Inner Critic's Drasticizing and Catastrophizing:
    [a] Use thought-stopping to halt its endless exaggeration of danger and constant planning to control the uncontrollable. Refuse to shame, hate or abandon yourself. Channel the anger of self-attack into saying NO to unfair self-criticism.
    [b] Use thought-substitution to replace negative thinking with a memorized list of your qualities and accomplishments
  9. Allow yourself to grieve. Flashbacks are opportunities to release old, unexpressed feelings of fear, hurt, and abandonment, and to validate - and then soothe - the child's past experience of helplessness and hopelessness. Healthy grieving can turn our tears into self-compassion and our anger into self-protection.
  10. Cultivate safe relationships and seek support. Take time alone when you need it, but don't let shame isolate you. Feeling shame doesn't mean you are shameful. Educate your intimates about flashbacks and ask them to help you talk and feel your way through them.
  11. Learn to identify the types of triggers that lead to flashbacks. Avoid unsafe people, places, activities and triggering mental processes. Practice preventive maintenance with these steps when triggering situations are unavoidable.
  12. Figure out what you are flashing back to. Flashbacks are opportunities to discover, validate and heal our wounds from past abuse and abandonment. They also point to our still unmet developmental needs and can provide motivation to get them met.
  13. Be patient with a slow recovery process: it takes time in the present to become un-adrenalized, and considerable time in the future to gradually decrease the intensity, duration and frequency of flashbacks. Real recovery is a gradually progressive process (often two steps forward, one step back), not an attained salvation fantasy. Don't beat yourself up for having a flashback.
http://www.pete-walker.com/flashbackManagement.htm

Thursday, April 28, 2011

cute puppies!!!!

http://www.google.com/search?q=cute+puppies&hl=en&client=firefox-a&hs=LGH&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&prmd=ivns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=Sv65TaWBFNGtgQejnvDTDw&ved=0CDAQsAQ&biw=1264&bih=629


Original Sin, Moral Bankruptcy, and Free Will

"Morally Bankrupt" is a term used in AA for the state of we alcoholics. I get that. I totally get it. Two days ago I came face-to-face with the term and what it means to me. It's related to the concept of "original sin." You see, I never could believe babies were born with "original sin" yet I spent my life believing I was the epitome of original sin. And guess what - I think babies are born pure and innocent and completely without sin, but we all lose our innocence and that, my friends, is original sin. I am, indeed, morally bankrupt, but the first withdrawal that made me that way was done when I was a little child with no resources, psychological or intellectual or even spiritual, to replace that which was withdrawn. My innocence was taken from me before I had any free will. Of course, free will comes to us all at some point. And with my early childhood bankruptcy and further withdrawals by smother, the church, etc. I of course had a heck of a time pulling out of that bankruptcy even with my free will. I guess I never did. I remain morally bankrupt, and emotionally bankrupt, and psychologically bankrupt. I rejoice that I never hurt anyone like I was hurt. I am ashamed of how I have hurt the ones I love and even myself. I see how that which was done to me as a child caused such a bankruptcy and how despite my efforts I remain bankrupt. I'm amazed that I have built a life that is in many ways rich and beautiful. It's really very sad and hopeful. It's the thing that makes me cry.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

In the Moments After Therapy

Intense therapy session. Intense feelings. Intensity driving me crazy, sparks in the attic smoldering and threatening….not grounded so that the electrical fire in my brain is overriding the switch, there’s no dimmer function and turning it off doesn’t really turn it off it just makes me unaware of the fires burning out of control up there amid the insulation and rafters oh my god what just happened?

After talking about the personal nature of the Chain of Events and how we’re going to discuss it during our next therapy session, and after which Craig suggested I not write it all down, that we should instead verbally discuss it, I made a comment. I said “you’re the savior” with a shrug in my voice and a smirk on my face, but with the intention of pushing a button. That ended the session. It was abrupt. Could be that we had gone over time, or it could be he didn’t like the comment. I wouldn’t like the comment. So I’m busy freaking out about that, with possible reactions that include cutting off my arm or blowing off my head. It’s a nifty way to avoid the terror of having to discuss the Chain of Events next session.

Luke asked me what I was so busy ruminating about. I told him. He responded with a couple of things: “You’re really good at finding a comment that will push buttons.” And “why are you spending your energy worrying about ruining your relationship with your therapist? Either it pushed a button or it didn’t, but either way you didn’t ruin your relationship and Monday is still going to come and you’ll still talk about it. He’ll move on. You should too.”

So I took half a seroquel. Pharmacological dimmer switch.

I explained to Luke, “right now it’s intense enough that I could really hurt myself. I mean, it’s a very real option. And it’s an option because then I could end up in the hospital and the statement made by my actions is that I’m not ready to talk about the Chain of Events and then we won’t. Focusing on whether or not I said something that Craig didn’t like is an effective distraction from thinking about our next session. Hurting myself would be an effective statement that I am unable to deal with talking about the Chain of Events. Or I could just hang on and talk about the Chain of Events at the next session. Or I could get lost in a never ending loop trying to figure out if I’m having a transference experience/if I pissed off Craig/if I’m sabotaging my therapy/if I legitimately can’t cope with those feelings related to the Chain of Events/and on and on and on.”

Luke had such a serious look on his face. He said “Didn’t you learn during this last hospitalization that you won’t die from talking about your feelings? That no one has died from feeling their feelings? That people die from NOT feeling their feelings? So it’s going to happen on Monday, or the next session after that or the next session after that. You said you want to get better, so there is only moving forward.”

I started crying then, because he’s right. But what to do with the panic? The terror? The shame? God, the shame is intense right now, coloring everything in my world. I needed to protect myself from the overwhelming fear all tied up in whether or not I pissed off my therapist and talking about the Chain of Events. I saw myself standing on the edge of the cliff, waving my gun around at the cops, and Craig telling me to put the gun down. I looked good and hard at that gun, pissed off at Craig and pissed off at me and pissed off at Luke and tried to think of what I could put in my hands in place of the gun. I saw the travel trunk, I think they called them steamer trunks. If the System is going to avoid a flame-out right now this very afternoon, then the overwhelming feelings have to go into the steamer trunk.

The Fantasy

So here’s the fantasy.

I’m in my car, parked near a cliff. I’ve been crying and crying and crying. I call Craig, my therapist and ask him to please come and talk to me as I’m “on the edge.” I tell him I’m going to kill myself and need him.

Pause to examine feelings. Powerful, intense feelings flood me. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings I have for my therapist. Yeah, yeah, I understand transference a little. I’ve gone through a number of transference experiences with him. But this feeling, it’s akin to the love I have for Wendi and Luke. I know that it’s impossible to have that kind of love – it’s not the same kind of relationship. He sits over there and I sit over here. But he does know me, he knows me by now better than anyone. Still, it’s a kind of love I feel and I don’t know what to do with it. Back to fantasy.

Craig comes to my car and sits in the passenger seat. He asks me what’s going on and I cry some more. I can’t stop crying and his presence is reassuring and safe. I tell him how much he means to me, how much he has helped me, and how I’ve come to the end of my ability to manage the feelings – all the feelings – from the past and the present. I reach under my car seat and pull out Luke’s 9 mm and quickly get out of the car, as I know Craig has called the police and they will shortly arrive.

The timing is impeccable. As soon as I step out of the car the police step out of the surrounding brush and point their guns at me as I point mine at them. Craig warned them I might try suicide by cop, so they don’t shoot right away. One tries to reason with me, but through my tears and shaking and palatable stress shaking my body I can’t hear anything, I can only wish one of them would pull the trigger and be done with it.

Craig comes over to me, putting his hands on the gun, lowering it, and looking into my eyes. He says “You don’t want to die. This isn’t what you want.” And I know he’s right so I let him take the gun from me while I collapse in my intensity and sobbing. Quickly the cops come and handcuff me, which is my cue to fight. All that pent up grief that has been trickling out in tears and shaking instantaneously turns to rage and I scream and kick. The cops hobble me, restrain me, and that forces the fight out of me even more. The scene fades away with me writhing and screaming and bleeding and hurting and feeling a sense of relief in the exhaustion.

Relief. What do I seek relief from?

Craig, obviously, is the rescuer in the fantasy. And really, he has saved my life both in individual encounters and in general. But this fantasy exists because he can’t be the savior I want him to be in real life. He can’t, from that chair, pull me back from the edge and take the gun out of my hands. He wouldn’t join me out there so near the edge, because that place is unreachable from his chair. Everyone wants a savior, but no savior, not even God, gets off their cross at the beck and call of the lost. One of the criminals sacrificed with Jesus demanded that Jesus save him, and himself, if He was really God. But that’s not what happened. They all had to die.

Craig is no god, I know. But he is trying to show me the path to saving myself – to healing. I know there is no way out, only a way through. I’m not going to get off the cross until the job is done. He seems to think that on the other side is a better life.

How can I experience relief without all the danger? Crucifixion is painful, but in the fantasy, Craig is right. It’s not death that I want. I want relief and I’ve developed this pathway to relief where I can feel it in the face of death. It’s only recently that Craig has appeared in this fantasy, I suppose because I’m becoming aware that I need to put the gun down…I’m hearing him from his chair way off in reality telling me that’s not what I want. In here, in the fantasy, he’s a savior out there on the edge with me, right in the line of fire of my gun and the guns of all the cops.

The cops – are they the overwhelming feelings I have? I taunt them with my gun, daring them to kill me as they could. They are lethal in the fantasy. They also are the tools that ultimately provide the relief I’m seeking – they restrain me and I struggle with them, sobbing and screaming and fighting to exhaustion. It’s one way to feel, but I hear Craig over there in his chair telling me there is another way. I don’t have to get in the car and drive to the edge, armed with my lethal rage. It’s the same message Carli taught me in the hospital when we threw clay balls at a wall, making statements about our anger, but interrupting the process when the anger began to turn to rage. I need a visual representation of the anger. If I am to put the gun down, I want something else to pick up. In the fantasy, once I put the gun down, the cops rush me and I am overwhelmed and it’s violent. I greatly, intensely desire it and yet it’s not quite right in its violence, because I’m not in control. I can envision the process of throwing clay balls at the wall, in control, feeling anger without being consumed by rage. But that’s not internal yet. It’s Carli and Craig off there in reality while I’m in here still holding the gun, still having a face -off with the cops. Only now Craig is in here too, telling me to put down the gun, telling me it’s not what I want.

What do I want? Relief. And how do I get it when there is no savior to jump off his cross or even out of his chair, no savior except the one over there – hanging on his own cross and sitting in his own chair while I hang on mine and sit in mine, having to get through?

Friday, April 15, 2011

Learning to Learn

Today marks my 8th sobriety birthday. I am ok with keeping this as my birthday, despite the fact I took 10 or so hydrocodone in a failed and feeble attempt to OD not too many months ago. I didn’t take them to get high, wasn’t even thinking in those terms. They were all that was available so down the hatch they went. But I lived, and today is my birthday.

I lived. I don’t know how to feel about that.

My dog, Gidget, didn’t learn to “shake” for weeks. It’s weird because she’s a service dog, and in the two years of intense public access training we went through, she learned all sorts of things: how to curl up under a table in a restaurant, how to get on and off city busses, how to down-stay on an airplane, how to walk next to a shopping cart, how to always pass a barrier (like a lamp post) on the same side as me…on and on. It was like every situation I put her in, she would look at me for guidance, do what I told her to do, and flawlessly do it every time after. She’s very intelligent and she learned so quickly people would assume over and over that she had been in these public situations many times over when maybe it was just her first or second time. But I couldn’t get her to shake a paw for nothing. What was the difference? During the public access training I didn’t use treats. All her motivation seemed to come from a place of “Hm, here’s a new situation. How do I behave?” During the “shake a paw” training, if I didn’t use treats, she didn’t seem to even understand I wanted her attention. With treats, all she would focus on was the treat. She didn’t know how to learn the trick. She didn’t know she was supposed to be learning a trick. I don’t think she knows how to learn! Not in a completely fabricated, non-reality based situation.

Today in therapy, Craig and I were getting down to the nitty-gritty of why Prowler wants to saw my arm off. That old compulsion is back, strong, and viciously close. My brain isn’t working right, because there are moments of the day when I go out to the garage and look at the chop saw, pick up the hack saw, practice cutting. I tested the hack saw on my arm, and found it’s going to take quite a lot of pressure to cut. I’ll never cut through the bone. And this kind of reasoning doesn’t seem odd to me – unless I step back from a distant place of Rae – and I realize it’s pretty weird. But then I easily move back into the never-ending loop of how to cut off my arm and how wonderful it would feel and what would happen next…

What, indeed, would happen next? That’s what sticks out in my mind from today’s therapy session. Prowler was explaining to Craig how it would be such a good release of energy to cut off my arm, so satisfying. Prowler knows this from previous self- harm, like when I hit myself with rocks and the bruises and pain come followed by a numbing, or when Sarah broke my arm and there was a peaceful, shocked numbing with the pain and activity that ensued. It doesn’t matter who does the self-harm, there’s release and numbing once it’s done. But Craig is pretty convinced there would be a big risk of death with arm amputation. Luke has said the same thing. I’ve done research on the internet and have to admit that yes, there is a pretty big risk of death. When Craig brought this up, Prowler said that was appealing, too. Then Craig said something that resonated throughout the whole System. He said “but if you cut your arm off and die, you won’t experience relief. You have to be alive to experience relief. If you’re dead you don’t experience anything.”

Prior to the discussion of cutting off my arm, Craig and I had been talking about Prowler’s role in the System, how he’s a protector, and his method of protecting has been to distract with suicidal ideation or thoughts and actions of self-harm. The distraction is necessary so that no one in the System has to feel the pain, sadness, terror, shame, and ‘shattering’ related to LA and/or the Chain of Events. Craig has been trying to reinforce/explain/teach a lesson about how suicide and self-harm are not the only methods of protection, that Prowler can shift to have a new skill set in his role of Protector in which he protects by regulating overwhelming emotions related to LA and the Chain of Events. Much like Sarah, with her rage, is off in her new closet watching the big screen tv and listening to music with headphones, checked out and in the distance, so can Prowler take the emotions related to LA when they become overwhelming and put them off in the distance, perhaps in one of those old traveling trunks.

Prowler learned something. Like Gidget, he’s intelligent and has adapted his behavior in many situations. Also like Gidget he has no mechanism for learning ‘tricks.’ He’s motivated, certainly motivated. His motivation is to protect, to control, to have power. But he hasn’t, until today, understood that he can learn how to do those things. Here Craig has been trying to teach something to someone with no mechanism for learning in such a fabricated situation like a therapist’s office. Prowler, like Gidget, didn’t know how to learn, didn’t even know that learning was what the point was!

The breakthrough, the moment of clarity, was in the statement “you have to be alive to experience relief.” Suddenly, Prowler grasped the meaning in that statement and along with that came a sadness and fear about the feelings that would eventually come from LA. It was like the barrier between LA and Prowler opened and the barrier between Prowler and Rae and Amanda opened and the tears came and the sadness and fear came and we sobbed for a moment right there in the office. Then panic was about to set in, because sadness and fear quickly turn to overwhelming pain, grief, and terror. So Prowler opened up the travel trunk and directed the emotion in there, and shut the lid.

It’s not like that hasn’t happened before. Dissociation is second nature. Like Gidget learning to behave in public seemed completely natural, so dissociation is completely natural to me. But learning to feel, then dissociate in a more controlled manner, that’s a trick indeed! I wanted Gidget to learn “shake a paw” so that I could shape that response into her pawing at me when I am in the throes of a flashback. It’s not just a nifty trick, there’s a purpose behind it that has great applicability in the real world. But first she needs to learn how to learn. She needs to become aware of the very dog-like behavior of pawing, control it, produce it on command (shake a paw), then transfer it to a meaningful task of getting my attention by pawing at me when I am off in another world. In order to do all that, she needs to learn what it is to learn. My System dissociates quite well, just like Gidget paws quite well. But there needed to be more communication within the System so that Prowler could learn to learn.

I think he did that today. He heard the lesson about taking overwhelming emotion and storing it someplace (we envisioned a travel trunk – so that’s going to be it) when necessary to not cause a System malfunction or shut down or melt down. Then he grasped the concept of how we need to be alive in order to feel relief, which caused some powerful feelings to stir. Then he practiced letting Rae and Amanda and himself feel those powerful feelings like sadness and fear. Then he redirected the emotions to the travel trunk when panic started to set in. Controlled dissociation. Control. Power and control.

So I lived through the last suicide attempt. And today is my 8th sobriety birthday. In a way, I’m glad to be alive.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Trust

I trust my therapist. I trust my therapist. I trust my therapist.

I just read a huge, long diatribe detailing human rights abuses, delusions, malpractices, and crimes of the Doctor in charge of the trauma program in the hospital from which I was just released. Why do I do this??? A portion of this article explained how DID doesn't exist and how a diagnosis of it will make a relatively healthy person sicker.

When I was 12 I wrote in my journal about the girl that lived in a room in my head, how I would become her, and how I would not remember things when I was her. I didn't know what DID was back then, I just thought I was insane or possessed. I was not under the care of a therapist at the time.

I don't care if I have a "System" for the rest of my life. I don't care if I process emotions differently than most people. I don't even care if I was abused as a child. I just want to not be depressed and get back to work and laugh sometimes. I just want to not have to fight for my life on a daily basis. If that means I have to have a system to deal with life that includes more than one me, than so be it.

I trust my therapist. I trust my therapist. I trust my therapist.

So before I can sabotage myself, I want to embrace the little girl inside. I want to let her live. I want to let her feelings trickle up through the layers so that I can be done with it - either shatter and become a psycho or heal - I don't care - I just want to be done with it. I can't live like this for the rest of my life. I just can't.

I'm desperate to move forward. I'm desperate to live. Even if moving forward and living means I have to risk a shattering, psychotic death.

I trust my therapist. I trust my therapist. I trust my therapist.