Lothlórien

Surprise Session

Ever have one of those sessions where you go in thinking you will just be touching base, discussing coping with current stressors, etc, and it turns out to be heavy trauma processing? I had that yesterday. It was something my therapist pointed out to me in my body posture and later a comment I said which she elaborated on, that threw me back into a whole other dimension. What I said was,"I should've known." I was instantly taken back to an abusive relationship I was in from age 16-21. Tears filled my eyes, I looked away, and my mind lost complete contact with what was going on in session. My T asked me a question, and I couldn't answer. I had to tell her she "lost me."

That led into why she lost me, what had happened internally, and into a very tearful discussion of my time in that relationship. In all the years of therapy I have had, I almost never talk about that. Part of it is that therapists don't focus on it. They tend to focus on the medical trauma, the incest, or the r*pe when I was 14. Oddly they don't ask much about my 5 years of Hell. So there it went, tears pouring out, and a young mind and soul emerging, telling all she could in about 30 minutes time.

I love my T. She was so responsive and so caring. How I wish I would've had someone like that in my life at the time it was happening..... Most of what we ended up talking about was the tremendous feelings of helplessness and aloneness. I was just a bawling little teen all over again.

It felt painful, but it felt so good to be able to express that pain.

Lothlorien

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

Amazing Session-Sensorimotor Psychotherapy

I had been having problems this past week where I would get this sudden sinking feeling. It would happen several times a day and would be followed by a sense of destabilization and last about 30 minutes or so. It did not disrupt my functioning, but it put a dent in it as I had to stop what I was doing and mange it in the moment before I could go on about my day. It was also bothersome to me. I did not know exactly what t was about. On my way to therapy, I speculated that it may have some to do with my mother’s death because we are approaching the one year mark, and I have been thinking of it a good bit. Thoughts like, “This time last year…..(blah, blah, blah).”

When I got into therapy, I shared my experience with my T and my speculation of what it was about. She then used a lot of the sensorimotor therapy to help me process what was going on, which was very appropriate because what I was experiencing was really purely somatic without much emotion or thought connected to it.

First she asked me to describe the sinking feeling which I said was like someone was reaching up in my body and pulling me down. It was like a hand was reaching up the inside of my torso, grabbing me and pulling down. She asked what area of the body are they pulling? What is being pulled? Tracking my internal sense, I responded with, “My voice.” Yes, it felt like a hand was reaching up inside me from the bottom of my torso, grabbing my voice and pulling it down.  I told her it was like my vocal chords can’t vibrate. Which then reminded me of the incident at the hospital because the first thing I tried to do when I woke up (in the middle of a procedure) was to talk, and my vocal chords would not vibrate. We sat with that a minute, and then moved on.

It was cool because we were really following and tracking this somatic response all the way through to see where it would lead. She kept asking me open ended questions that pushed it further to what now, what next, etc. I then felt a sinking feeling , had a sense of darkness moving across me as if it was night, and the desire to turn away and curl in a ball. When asked about that, I replied, “I don’t want to see it. I just want to make it go away. I want to go away.” I encouraged myself not to go away, and to instead internally turn to face it.

I then felt numb but interestingly only on the bottom half of my body. I literally could not feel that part of me anymore. We noted that, talked about what was good about that (I don’t have to feel pain). Then shortly after I felt numb all over. We discussed what part of the body initiates “numb all over”. I told her, “You don’t want to know.” We worked with that awhile, noticing what’s good about the ability to be numb all over, etc. She asked me to ask that part why it makes me numb, and I got “fear” and an internal felt sense that that part was pushing me away. Like it didn’t want anyone to bother it. Like it was holding out its arms and sweeping across the body as if to shoo a fly away. Part of sensorimotor therapy is identifying actions the body, mind, soul wanted to perform during trauma and allowing those actions to be completed in the here and now. It actually disrupts the loop in the brain and releases that urge, creates a sense of completion and mastery.  So she asked me to do that, and I felt frozen. I felt like I couldn’t move at all. I sat there very tight and nearly motionless, however, she picked up on the fact that I was making very tiny movements with my thumb, rubbing across the ring I was wearing  on the other hand.  She asked me to notice that. We talked about what that did for me. It wasn’t conscious, but it provided me some comfort, and we also discovered, as sensory distraction. My mind went to when my father used to molest me, and how all my memories have holes in them. I still have huge gaps in those memories, but one thing that is always remembered is whatever I was holding in my hand or rubbing. Like once in the woods, we were on a blanket, and I honestly only remember feeling scared, darkness, and the feeling in my left hand as I opened and closed it repeatedly on the blanket and felt the crunching fall leaves crumbling underneath. We talked about this, and how I tended to use that small sensory resource to take my mind off what was happening, to fade into that feeling, to feel a different feeling unrelated to what was happening to me. 

Shortly after that we explored the resources that were inherent in all of that. And throughout the whole process, I had an image of my father in the upper right corner of my mind, but I had no memory, no story, etc. I began to feel better, and she recapped the whole experience back to me, and low and behold we had just tracked my trauma response somatically. Those were the stages my body went through during the trauma. Literally, first this, then that, etc. We literally tracked it all the way through. Looking back, it was amazing!!!!!!!

First, I would feel as if someone reached up and grabbed my voice. I would then be reminded of a past trauma where I couldn't speak/move/etc. (Hospital surgical awareness). I would then feel a sinking, and mentally experience darkness and a turning away, as if I was pulling into myself (dissociation). I would then feel a moment of intense fear which immediately triggered a bodily numbing response. I would feel frozen, as if I couldn't move, but my hand would grab onto something and hold it, rub it, etc as a distraction or absorption to black out everything else. This would continue until it was over. Then there would be a sense of relief followed by grief. Very interesting!

We also later figured out what had triggered all this to come up for me this week. Earlier in the week my oldest daughter asked me if her grandfather (my dad) was an alcoholic. I did discuss it some with her, but noticed that I felt completely high as if I had just smoked a joint, and backed off the topic. I guess that was enough to fire off body memories.

Our appointment was in the morning, and I went the entire rest of the day not having any sinking feeling, where as before it was happening multiple times daily.  I also felt a sense of relief, and sheer exhaustion. When I do major processing like this, I seriously need a nap!!! It’s unreal how much it takes out of you physically and emotionally.

I just thought the whole process was amazing. To me, therapy in itself is amazing. The ability to transform things internally, reroute crap stuck in the amygdala and push it on through is unbelievable. I think I will never cease to be amazed.

 Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

Therapy Session (re:Father Issues)

For the past week I have felt utterly depressed. I really couldn't make heads or tails out it. I felt very sleepy all the time. I wanted to stay home and do nothing. Just sleep and hide. I didn't even want to eat. I felt like I wanted to sleep more than I wanted to eat, and I lost 4 pounds in this week alone, which didn't help because calorie restriction makes one tired and depressed. Vicious cycle....

I had some ideas of what may be behind it. One idea was medication. I had recently been playing around with my medication in an effort to strike a balance between feeling good and actually enjoying some sort of sex life. I found that at half does of Lexapro the sex was satisfying, but depression was creeping in, so I had to reluctantly go back to the usual does. Anyway, so one thought I had was that quite possibly I have just been messing with my medication entirely too much and thrown my system out of whack. Thought number two, this weekend is the closing on my mother's house. I am traveling back to my hometown for this, and it opens up the woulnd of my mother's death all over again. Add to that that I will be seeing my father (ugh). Thought number three, my therapist is going on vacation next week and I won't see her for two weeks, and when she gets back we had planned to begin trauma processing via EMDR re: issues with my father. Of course this could be it as well. So many things, and I had no clue.

I went to therapy pitiful...dragged myself there actually, because really all I wanted to do was go home and go to sleep for like.....hmmm....forever? But I was really hoping she would help me sort this all out, and it was very helpful. It was quickly apparent this all has to do with issues regarding my father. In part the processing of it and in part the issue of seeing him this weekend. I have to go back to my hometown this weekend for the closing on my mother's house.

My therapist and I talked a lot about my father, the things that he's done, the mind games he played (ie saying what just happened didn't happen), and it's effect on me. Tough session, and I had to come home and let it all sink in for a bit. It was helpful though.

Afterwards, I sent this email to my therapist. Hopefully you guys can make some sense of it without me telling you the whole story. I think the only confusing part would be re: my father's mind games. He would literally look me dead in the face and tell me what  just happened didn't happen, and I would be so confused as a kid. It's like I would think to myself, "What?" and he would be saying,"This just did not happen." And I would think,"Yes it did.", "Huh?" I would be so confused, and add to that confusion the fact that I was dissociative and what just happened on some level didn't feel real and I was one totally confused little kid. It was a great mind f*ck my young little brain could not unwind. Also my therapist and I talked about how would it feel to be able to say I don't want to have contact with him. Ack!!!! Little ones inside abound!!! We also talked about setting limits with him, or hence my inability to do so, as I am like the baby elephant that grew up tied to a stake who now as an adult thinks she is still unable to break away from that stick even though I've grown and could easily do so. No way I could possibly share with you all I gained from the session, but I would like to share my follow-up email to my therapist with you that sort of sums it up.

"T",

I just got home, but I wanted to share some after thoughts if that's ok.

When I first got in the car, I was contemplating the idea of confrontation. Just sitting with that thought, I guess. And when I pulled out of the parking lot this young self sprang a loud thought across my mind,"But what if he really didn't do anything?" That was like, out of nowhere. So then I am "listening" to that, and all I could think of is he really screwed me up.

So then I'm driving along, and it occurs to me that possibly my not wanting to do anything/go anywhere (current feelings) is an expansion of my desire not to go "there" (my hometown) and "there" as in"back there" revisiting the memories in therapy. In essence this little one inside doesn't want to go see him, doesn't want to face the trauma, and hence doesn't want to do anything.

I also am aware (and have been for quite sometime), that I have a tendency to bypass fight/flight and go straight to shut down. Almost like playing possum. Like if I just freeze, numb out, sleep, go away, I will be ok.

I am guessing that is how I dealt with trauma eventually which makes sense to me, especially now having read some of the Pat Ogden book (Trauma and the Body: A Sensorimotor Approach to Psychotherapy). I mean if social engagement and fight/flight proved fruitless over and over again, it makes sense I would skip it all and go to shutdown mode.

I guess those sorts of things are behind my tiredness, withdrawal, not wanting to go anywhere or do anything. I'm essentially curling into a ball like a roly poly.

That's sad......

Perhaps that little one inside needs to do that. But perhaps I can comfort her and allow her to stay safe inside while I stay protectively on the outside. I think over the last few days that "little one" has been front and center, and it's really my fault. I have been denying the existence of those little parts for a long time. I just felt so much better and so much more integrated after processing the hospital, I felt "cured". Then I ditched the whole idea that I was remotely DID anymore at all and shut down my willingness to listen. I so wanted to be done, and I wasn't open to my insiders, but it's not over til it's over, I guess.

I hope that what I wrote makes sense. Sometimes I feel like I'm making sense out of what to many people may sound like nonsense.

(((((hugs)))))

"Me"

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

My Father

My therapist and I are soon to begin another journey via EMDR. We have tackled a lot of issues lately, but one issue still left unresolved is that of the relationship between my father and me. It is a very confusing relationship at best. My father is an alcoholic, though he drinks much less now in his old age. When he was sober, he was an excellent father. He told my sister and me that he loved us on a regular basis, and he was appropriately affectionate. He genuinely enjoyed spending time with us, as he is almost like a huge child himself. My sister and I have always said that he is perpetually 11 years old at heart and much like Peter Pan. He would play games with us, watch cartoons with us, take us with him to work, take us to McDonalds. We spent days at the lake with him, buried him in the samd on the beach, and road rides with him at amusement parks. The sober Daddy was a lot like Robin William's character on Mrs. Doubtfire.

On the flip side, my father was also a partier, and when he drank, he drank to excess---always. He was the "life of the party" among his equally wild, drunken friends. He partied until his body literally gave out. By my mother's account, early in their marriage, this happened occassionally, but as the years went on, it happened more and more. He began to leave her some evenings for parties and come back nearly passed out. He would throw up everywhere. My mother took care of him while my sister and I slept. Eventually he began to drink at other times (no party necessary now), and I am also aware that he smoked pot in the house, though I have no idea exactly when he did that. I just know that at about age 11 Iwalked in on him in his office rolling a joint. It was a perplexing scene for me. My father told me sometimes he likes to roll his own cigarettes, and I accepted that. Little rolling paper packets were scattered around our house, and my sister and I (quite innicent at the time) thought they looked like the perfect doll Kleenex, so we collected them, and that's what we used them for. Of course, by the time I was 14, I knew what it was and what my father had been doing.

When my father was under the influence, his sense of boundaries blurred, and over time as we grew up, he would push the limits further and further. He sexually abused us in a confusing way. I would say that my father pushed the boundaries as far as he could push them without ever actually having sex with us. The most confusing part was that eventually he would be soder again, and be back to his "good Daddy" self. Talk about a great mind f*uck!!!

My parents divorced when I was 13. This had the effect of increasing my father's use of drugs and alcohol, which in turn, increased the boundary violations. My father got so drunk on numerous occassions that he blacked out. Once my mother had to go get him in the wee hours of night because he stumbled home that evening, parked in fron of his apartment, collapsed into some bushes, and awoke later to find that one of the branches on the bush had literally sliced a large piece of his ear completely off. He also found his wallet emptied and credit cards scattered for several feet all around him as if he had spun around and just thrown them like a game of "52 Pick Up". He had no recollection of that night at all.

My father eventually remarried but divorced again shortly thereafter. His wife left him for the same reason my mother did. He was a large child, unresponsibile, and his drinking had taken its toll. During that time (I was about 17) my father became suicidal. He would call me, of all people, to talk to. He would be drunk, of course, and tell me how depressed he was, talk about killing himself, and he had a plan. He was going to jump out of his high rise apartment window. I never understood why he would call me to talk to. I felt HUGELY incompetent. During this time my father was also a basket full of nerves. He went to his doctor, and the doctor prescribed him Valium!!! Now as young as 17 I knew that was a mistake. I remember looking at him the day I found out he was on it. He was sitting in front of me stoned off Valium, and I could not believe a doctor prescribed and alcoholic drug addict Valium!!!!

My father has been remarried again, divorced, and remarried again. His alcoholism has cost him many relationships. It also cost him his own company. My father used to own his own business. In fact, he owned two. He was quite successful, but as the alcohol and drugs took more and more control of his life, he lost them both. He declared bankruptcy when I was in my late teens/early 20's. He seemed to have lost everything at that point. No wife, hardly seeing his kids, no business of his own, no money, owe the government tons in back taxes, crappy job, crappy apartment, shitty car. He drowned his depressed self in alcohol, pot, and Valium. I talked to him about his drinking at this time (I was about 21) and suggested he look into AA. He actually went. He came back to report that he had nothing in common with those people. They had lost everything! I remember wondering at what point would he consider himself having "lost everything."

My father does drink less now. He has aged som much over the past few years. He just doesn't have it in him anymore. However the drugs and alcohol have taken their toll on him over the years, and his mind is not what it could be. He is largely dissociated. I'm not sure if he was always this way, or if this is some ong term effect of too much alcohol and too many drugs or what. He can't think straight to save his life. He appears confused and lost a lot of the time. Honestly, it's like he has brain damage from too much drugs.

What is left, is that I really don't know how I feel about my father. It is hard to process the totality of the life I have had with him. There were definitely really good times, and there were obviously really bad times. Life is not black and white. There are shades of gray everywhere you look. However, due to alcohol, my father's behavior was black and white, and I have had a hard time processing that over the years. My mind, even as a child, wanted to make it gray. My mind wanted to make it mesh, to make a cohesive whole that made sense. My mind wanted someway to link these two "Daddies" together so it made sense,  but I never could. As an adult, I am closer, but I still have lots of work to do. That is the next step on my healing journey.

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

Kung Fu Panda 2

I just watched Kung Fu Panda 2 with the girls, and it is an amazing movie for trauma survivors!

The panda has pieces of recovered memories from his childhood that he processes, and it has ALL the elements of trauma processing from questioning the memories, to confirming, to actual processing, confrontation, and resolution. One part is very cool! It's where it all seems to come together and he closes his eyes and pushes it away, but another character says,"Do not resist. Let it flow through you." Then the panda picks up a drop of water and tosses it left and right, back and forth between his paws and processes the whole event. It mimics EMDR. REALLY cool!!!

Great messages in the movie too. Like the villian asks how the panda can survive because he "scarred" him for life, but the Panda says,"Scars heal. Oh, wait! WOUNDS heal. But scars fade."

You have to see it!

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

 

Processing "THE" Trauma-Part 4

I had another EMDR session. The "negative charge"/SUD is continuing to go down and move out, but still when I pull up the image of the lights (the first thing I saw when I woke up) my eyes immediately sting and tears just stream down my face. So, my therapist and I started with that image.

Before we started, as my T was getting all set up, I felt this overwhelming clingy-ness. I wanted to pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her like I was drowning! I really had to hold myself back from pulling on her, reaching for her hand, etc. (I didn't want to look ridiculous!) Though I didn't act on it, I did tell her I felt very clingy.

We started the EMDR, and the feelings went right to intense fear and longing. The phrase "I want my Mommy" was screaming through my consciousness! Another set yielded panic and,"I want my Mommy. I want her now, now, now, now, now!!!!" One more set of that and then on another set I began to go numb, I could feel myself pushing it away and then found myself in the dark bliss of dissociation (in my thoughts, memories, emotions--not really dissociated in that moment).It occured to me then how powerfully reinforcing the dissociation was. Being able to "get away" helped me feel powerful in a situation where I was really powerless. It also took the pain away (physically and emotionally).

Interesting session! Interesting because I don't ever recall "wanting my mommy" for anything at any point in my life. I guess because after that, perhaps I never "reached out for her again." I know I was angry with her when the surgery was over. I remember feeling dead to her. Looking at her and looking away. We did EMDR with this as well and those feelings were strong and the thought, "Where were you?" followed by a disregard of her on my point passed through my consciousness. I felt like, "You weren't there when I really needed you. I don't want you now." And then to tell her,"I know what they did," and have that responded with a dismissive, "No you don't. You were asleep," sealed the deal. I was detached.

I don't think that one incident is where the attachment went awry. I know from the way my mother raised me and how she interacted with my own kids as infants that the attachment was damaged already. But I think I had just enough positive attachment to emotionally reach out to her in the face of "terror" and/or "death". I suppose it makes sense because when I think about it, if I had experienced that incident and NOT felt an intense need for my Mommy in that moment, I would probably have Reactive Attachment Disorder instead of DID. The attachment would've had to be unbelievably severely damaged for me to not want my Mommy in a situation like that. So there was some attachment, albeit a damaged one which was further damaged after this.

So now I'm drawn to the clingy-ness for which I am SO noted for with my therapists! ;) And there it is! My little self was still reaching out for comfort---perpetually reaching for what was needed, never could get, and never could resolve. That's it! And you know what? Since this EMDR session,  it is as if that intense desire has faded. Like a huge "a-ha" moment has occurred, and I'm ok. I don't feel like I need to do that....I do not feel the "desparate" need for attachment....not at all! Of course I still want attachments, but I don't have that desparate quality to it. I feel fine and safe within myself, and it's a good feeling. I'm ok, and the little part of me is ok too.

I really should've known the cliny-ness I experienced with my therapist was due to attchment issues with my mom because I do not have a history of being clingy in general. No one who knows me outside of therapy would ever characterize me that way. Interestingly, it has only presented itself in therapy situations, where (duh--!!) I have tended to have female therapists who were, on average, about 20 years older than me and, by virtue of the therapeutic relationship, were very responsive to me emotionally. Transference, transference, and more transference! So, duh-----it's all been about resolving attachment needs (re: my mom). I was always seeking attachment to a "mother figure"..... always seeking that comfort, that "soft place to fall", and a "grown up" to lean on. I used to liken myself to one of Harlow's monkeys when it came to my desire to be in close proximity to my therapists. These poor therapists I have seen. How patient they all were! One of the four T's I've seen saw this clingy-ness in me and slapped a Borderline diagnosis on me. None of the other T's did, not even a specialist in BPD that led a DBT group I was in. I'm not Borderline, nor have I ever been. I just had an aching heart, and thanks to some patience, trauma processing, and EMDR that aching heart has been soothed. :)

This has all helped me so much. I feel like a different person (not like DID--LOL). Just so much happier, free, etc. My perceptions of things are changing....changing to a more integrated perception as opposed to a focused, tunnel-visioned perception. I am getting a proper distance from it all which puts me in a place of being able to look at it all with some objectivity, free of the intense emotions.

My previous therapist, who I still keep in touch with from time to time said that integration can be a lonely time for peoplewith DID. However, so far, I feel significantly less lonely! I feel more connected to people in my life. I think for me I was very lonely with DID. Probably because I was in my own internal world and not as open as I could be to the world around me. I can actually feel the connections I have with people. I feel "out" not "in", and it feels good. Life is also much calmer.

My session was actually yesterday. Today I have felt ok. I have felt good for the most part, but I feel very pensive about the attachment stuff, I feel sad for myself, and a bit tearful about my life as a kid. What this has also brought up is that with my attachment with my mom so damaged, I clung to my father who was available for attachment. He did things my mother never did.....things all parent should do. He told me he loved me, he hugged me, gave me kisses (appropriate ones), told me stories, let me sit next to him, even on his lap if I wanted! However, he was two Daddies. The one I just described was the sober Daddy. There was also the drunk Daddy who blurred the boundaries, kissed me inappropriately, blah, blah, blah (not going there). The realization this attachment stuff brings up is that I had to do whatever I could to keep that attachment with my father because it was the only attachment I had. Catch-22. It is just painful, so sometimes I do not feel so good, and I know there is so much more ahead of me on this journey called therapy. However, mostly I feel good because the processing I have done has helped so much. I feel so much growth. I feel great overall.I just keep taking it day-by-day.

**Image is "mother love"......what I wanted, what I needed, what I spent most of my life seeking. That "soft place to fall".

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

Processing "THE" Trauma- Part 3

Back to therapy today, and back to processing the trauma of the hospital experience. After my last two sessions, one where we processed the most difficult part of the trauma and one where we talked about the processing we had done in the two prior sessions, things have gotten better. In EMDR terms, my subjective unit of disturbance was down when thinking of the event from a 10 to an 8. Not tremendous relief, but the "sting" of the memory is decreasing. Today I chose to process the event some more to try and get that number down. This time we tried EMDR (Eye-Movement Desensitization and Re-processing).

It was by far the toughest thing I've ever done in therapy. Tears just kept shooting out my eyeballs, and the body memories were a scary "10" on the scale. I did not expect the body memories to come up. My body felt like it was screaming. Sometimes it felt so painful emotionally, I feared I couldn't go on, but I knew I had to go forward. You hit a point of no return where the only way out is to just move through it. There were times that were painful emotionally but it felt so good to let the tears just go and keep going with it. It's weird that it can simultaneously feel bad and good. This is gross analogy, but it's a lot like throwing up. At one point my T was doing the eye sets and asked if I wanted to keep the sets going longer and through tears I nodded. During that time I was emotionally "throwing up", and I was releasing as much as I could possibly  release in that moment. As difficult as the emotions were, it felt incredibly good to release them. It was like,"Yes...out, out, out, out." It was like a huge part of the emotional distress that has been trapped in my body was literally pouring out of me and shooting across the room. I wanted to allow as much to come out as humanly possible. It felt like I was ridding myself of toxins! And, actually, I believe I was.

During the process I took comfort that my T was with me. I took comfort that I wasn't alone. I believed that I was capable of doing this, and that pushed me through.

I sat in my car for about 20 minutes after the session getting grounded and reoriented so I could drive. I listened to Mary Chapin Carpenter on the car stereo. Heard the song "We've Traveled So Far" and thought reflectively of how far I have "traveled." I scrawled out a brief email to my former therapist, who graciously keeps in touch with me. I enjoy connecting with her and giving her updates on my progress. All of that helped to ground me and allow me to drive the 30 minute drive home. I got home around 1:30, and fell asleep for 2 hours. I was woken up by my daughters coming in from school. After I woke up, the session seemed so, so long ago. I still felt tapped out! I was dragging. I felt like a Mack truck hit me.....or more like a cat chewed me up and spit me out.

I had tried EMDR two other times on other traumas, and I wasn't very successful. I shut down emotionally with the eye movements. This was the first time I actually made it through and didn't shut down. Honestly, I think I just wasn't ready for it before. I guess I couldn't tolerate the emotions so my body shut off. This time that did not happen. It was very intense emotionally. A few times I had to stall my T while I just let myself cry for a minute and soothed myself. There were a couple of times where I could hardly go on, but once you get to a certain point, you don't want to stop there or you're left with the horrible feelings in their unprocessed state. It is best at times like these to keep going with it so that it processes all the way through. My T reminded me of this, which I knew, but it was hard to do. When it got to a good ending point, I was relieved when my T said, "Let's start winding this down and do some containing." I was SO happy with that, I think I bounced slightly in my seat! In my mind I was saying,"Yay! The end is near!", and I actively absorbed each and every comforting, containing statement she made while doing the last sets. I took great comfort in "putting it all away in a container for another day."

Off and on, throughout the day, I have been thinking of the words that came to mind during the process, but it's all sort of a blur. I know we tapped into my compulsive need after the trauma to reenact it and to harm, or kill, my body "there." All of that is sort of in suspended animation, and I suspect that it will settle, click in to place, and some connections will be made over the week. I would say that overall it is helping, and if I had to rate my subjective unit of disturbance after this processing, I suppose it would be around a 5 or 6, but we will see where it is in a week.

I am thankful to all of you who have been following my journey and leaving such words of comfort and support in the comments. It means the world to me.

Safe hugs.....

~Lothlorien

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

Integration in Progress

I BAWLED in therapy Wednesday. Over the past several months I have felt more integrated. More and more I feel like anyone else with PTSD. I have shared this with my T and some friends a few times over. I talked about it here on the blog in my first post on Processing "THE" Trauma in reference to the integration of experience I had through processing. I mentioned as I processed it was like a "braiding" occurring between parts and myself. Over these weeks of processing there has been increased fusing, so my T asked me about the "state of affairs" in the system. Immediately tears just shot out my eyes. It was most unexpected. I just bawled because it is all me. Everything has happened to me. No longer do I look at it as "Molly", or "Windy", or "Michelle", or whoever. It's me, and even if I'm in touch with that 'little self', it is no different now than anyone else being in touch with their little self. I don't lose identity, there's not detachment. It's just me, and I just bawled for myself and the "ownership" of it all. I can't explain what this process felt like. It is beyond words. I just hurt for myself....It's all me, my life, my experience, I lived it, I had to deal with it. This affected me, parts were created to help ME. There was no other way to cope.

Driving home from therapy I am always pensive about the session, and I was thinking about all this and the BASK model of dissociation came to mind. According to Braun, BASK refers to the four components of consciousness: Behavior, Affect, Senses, and Knowledge. People with DID have aspects of these areas of consciousness dissociated out. I don't know why this came to my mind, but it did, and I realized I am no longer dissociated in these ways. There is no dissociation of behavior (I don't dissociate and have parts do things anymore) or affect (I feel all my feelings in an integrated fashion). There's no dissociation of the senses or knowledge (I know everything).

Tears are "leaking" down my face as I write.

It's hard to let go.....

Do you know what I mean?

Later that day as it was all still sinking in, I felt like the walls of dissociation were crumbling around me. Most of my life I have felt like I have been standing in the middle of a tight stone "fortress". How can I describe this? It looks like a fortress, or like Rapunzel's tall round castle. I have been inside standing in the middle surrounded by the stone wall and each stone is a part, an alter (though really I never had THAT many---just "work with me here").  Now it feels like the walls around me are crumbling down. Down, down, down. And I am just watching it go. It's like the wall is no longer needed, like it's done it's job and is now washing away, but I'm still sort of scared watching it go. All that's left is just me standing vulnerable in the rubble. Crying.....But I'm ok. I wonder now how I will step out of that circle, and will there be people outside of it in the real world ready to greet me? For now I just stand in it and say goodbye. Goodbye to the wall----

Odd how it will be missed.......

That's what I mean when I say,"It's hard to let go." Watching the system dismantle around me is like giving up a treasured "special blankie" when you out grow it. It's ratty and old, it's no longer useful, but it has comforted you for so long and has sentimental value.

I shared this visual with my T, and she really liked it. She said it so clearly described a very powerful experience for which there aren't really words. She also said she had been observing this change in me for quite some time and felt like integration had been happening for awhile. A tell tale sign for her was when my mother was diagnosed with cancer and died. She said I handled the whole situation in a completely integrated manner, and she began to wonder what chabges were going on inside. She was pretty sure I was integrating.

Though I had some insight to this, I don't think it really hit me until I processed this piece of material, and she directly asked me how things were internally. I think I have been integrating slowly over the past months, but processing this one piece of my history was that last piece that "broke" the dissociation. Then down came the wall....

I don't want to imply here that I "lost" parts. I don't feel like I've lost anything, really. I feel as if I have gained. All the little parts are me. They are a part of me, but they are no longer separate. All the functional parts are the same. They are parts of me and thus not gone. Just not separate. They now make up the totality of me. I think the only parts I can say are "gone" in the sense of having "lost" parts are the introjects. The introjects are those parts that are the voices of my abusers. They are now rightly where they should be.....with my abusers. Hard to explain, but I guess I directly put their words on the people who spoke them, directly put their actions on the ones who commited those acts, and therefore they no longer live inside me. Does that make sense?

All of this is so hard to explain. I hope that I have done it justice in some way. I can tell you that it is a powerful experience!! It is sad in some ways, freeing in others, empowering in some, confusing in others, and honestly I keep finding myself crying here and there as if I have lost a loved one. Sometimes I want it back. Mostly I don't. I think I only want it back becuase I'm used to that. Living without DID is an unknown, but I keep telling myself that apparently I have been living lately in large part without the internal support of DID. I can do this.

Another hard thing.....I hate to admit it, but I have come to define myself, at least in part, as one who has DID. So there is this "in medias res" feeling of "where do I fit in now?" Also, I have technically been DID since I was 4. I am navigating totally new territory as I experience life without this. "What do I do? Where do I go? What next?" I also wonder, "Will it last? Will it come back? How do I know it is for sure and real and lasting?" "Really?? They aren't there?" I periodically search internally and yes, we are all one. Sigh.....

It feels weird.....

I never expected this when I decided that I wanted to really work on the trauma once and for all. Never! Never, never, never....

It's weird.....

There's not much more I can say right now. I will write more as it comes to mind and processes further.

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

Processing "THE" Trauma-Part 2

It has taken me all week to feel up to writing this post. My last session was very difficult, but I did it. I made it through! I managed to talk about when I woke up. It was noticeably tougher. I almost "lost it" twice. Once, when I was at the part where I realized I couldn't speak or move my hand, and my T helped me through it by encouraging me to use my voice and move my hand as I wanted to then. That calmed the panic. Then another time I almost totally lost it when it was done, but my T just let me sit with it, talked me through it, and it settled.

Both times we worked on this trauma we sat on the floor, me with my back against her couch. Sitting on the hard floor helps with grounding, and feeling the hard part of the couch behind me helps too. I partially covered myself with a soft blanket, and that felt safe and comforting. I also held this little, purple, rubber ball that has a face and soft strings coming out in all directions. It's a squishy thing, and after our session that day, she needed a new one. :) At session's end, he had hardly any air in him anymore. I squished him to death. If you hold him by a string now, he just sags there caved in. And when I sat him on her table after the session, he flopped into a pitiful lump! He has been traumatized. Now he holds my trauma.

We did the same thing we did last time where we do a meditation for containment, but it was briefer this time. I felt ok when I left, but began to feel anxious on the ride home. Since "using my voice" as I couldn't during the trauma helped in session, I began repeating the experience while driving, and it felt SOOO comforting. By the time I got home, I was exhausted and took a two hour nap. Trauma work and naps go hand-in-hand for me.

When I woke up, for the rest of the day, I felt great! I felt lighter and free. I felt like a great weight had lifted. I felt like I had been a caterpillar, who had curled up in her chrysalis long ago and gotten stuck there for decades. Development halted. That day, after processing the trauma, I felt like development had begun again. I felt like the little chrysalis was wiggling back and forth and a wee butterfly wing and foot were beginning to stick out. Again, I felt very positive about the work I had done and the possibility of healing.

That night when all had settled down and things were quiet, it hit me and I felt bad again. The scary feelings were coming back. I was bummed it didn't "clear" as the other piece did, (disappointed actually) but logically I get it that this piece will take longer. I just want to be done feeling this way (PTSD crap) ! I'm tired of these events having such a pull on me and want the intense feelings surrounding them dealt with and behind me. I'm ready to go on with my life. Suffice to say that I was frustrated when the cruddy feelings were still there that next day. I was more frustrated than I was upset or uncomfortable with the feelings/memories themselves.

Despite it all, Thursday and Friday I was still able to put it aside, go to classes, work (taught Kindergarten Friday), etc. No problem. Then Saturday I took my youngest daughter to swimming lessons and immediately when I walked in the pool area and smelled the chlorine a huge memory filled my soul and about "knocked me down." (A totally different memory from that same time period) I shook it off and mentally covered it up with positive memories I have with that same smell/association (swim team experiences as a teen).

I went on about my day, and met a new friend at swimming lessons. Her child is in the same class, and she is a teacher too, so we had lots in common. I enjoyed our conversation. I forgot all about the memory flash I had. Then I got home from swimming lessons and just started shaking internally "for no reason". This lasted for quite awhile. At first (having forgotten now about the memory incident at the pool) I was baffled. It felt like it came out of nowhere, like in Panic Disorder, but I knew better. I chucked it up to all the processing in general, but later realized it was that incident at the pool....the memory. I was zapped that whole day. I was so sleepy I felt like someone hit me with a sleepy stick! I catnapped all day and then slept 12 hours that night. Basically I shut down.

I was fine on Sunday. Then last night I stayed up reading my sexuality textbook until about 11:30. All about sexual response. Very interesting, but then my night was a twisted mess of PTSD crap! I tossed and turned and had all kinds of stuff flashing in my mind last night. It doesn't affect me like it used to. Now I just look at it as "damn PTSD!" and it's "gone". Dust off, discard, and go on about my day, but last night sucked. It's still not pleasant!

So the jist....I have more work to do on the trauma. It is also bringing up other stuff as trauma work tends to do, and I have to deal with that. I don't like that so much, but I will manage. I go back tomorrow to see my T. One session at a time---I am getting through this. I will succeed; I won't give up. I can do this. It's just a rough road. Bumpity-bump-bump!

Actually, periodically I feel quite sick....nauseous to be exact, but I really am determined to get through this. It's time....

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved

 

Processing "THE" Trauma

A long time ago my therapist and I started working on trauma processing, but after only a few sessions of it, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. She died eight months later. Needless to say, trauma processing was placed on the back burner. Two weeks ago I told my therapist that I was feeling ready, and I really wanted to begin working on the trauma stuff again. We spent that session discussing the details and decided that we would tackle the a specific one. I call it "THE" trauma because I am sure it is "THE" trauma that pushed me over the edge into the realm of DID. I literally remember going in to that situation looking at the world through my own eyes (from the inside out) and coming out of it looking at the world from the outside in. It was life changing!

So what happened? (Mild trigger warning as I will try to be as discreet and general as I can be). First of all, you have to know that I had some trauma before the event. I had a near drowning when I was about 18 months, and I had a dental procedure when I was two that my mother said traumatized me. According to her description of me afterwards, I had all the signs of PTSD, but I did not get any help with it. That was in 1972. People didn't get help for their 2 years olds very often. Plus my mother was very neglectful of me emotionally. It must've been bad because as unattached as my mother behaved toward me usually, she always displayed strong empathy when she discussed this event. The effects lasted a couple of years. I don't remember this at all, of course, but I think it is relative information that gives some idea as to what it was like for me going into this particular event.

(Trigger warning contin.) When I was 4, I had a long-lasting, recurrent bladder/UTI infection that had been going off and on for a couple of months. The doctors thought I may have reflux, so they wanted to check for that. They also wanted to check something with my urethra which (in the end) they adjusted. I was checked into the hospital for the precedure. They put me to sleep for it. However, I did not stay asleep. THAT'S the trauma. I had a "surgical awareness" during that procedure. It is the most horrifying experience I have ever had. That trauma killed me inside to the point that I felt dead. I had no feelings afterwards. I felt numb and comepletely detached. It didn't help matters that when I woke up and told my mother of what happened, she didn't believe me. I got NO aftercare! You know, no matter how bad the trauma is, a person can handle a lot with appropriate support and aftercare. I had none! I was on my own. Later, when I was in my early 20's I went to the hospital and asked for my records, which they still had. I was shocked! Anyway, it confirmed my memory to a tea. As an adult I represented this to my mother, and said, "Remember when I told you I knew what they did? Well, I really did", and I told my mother everything and held up the medical records. She stood frozen and all she could muster was,"Oh, how horrible," and we never discussed it again. She still couldn't handle that knowledge. Honestly, I think it pained her too much to face. She wasn't strong enough to be there for me. She was a trauma survivor hersel (mother-daughter sexual abuse) and tried therapy for only a few weeks. She couldn't remotely tolerate facing the issues. This impacted her ability to face mine.

Anyway, so my therapist and I decided to tackle this one event because any event after this probably taps into this trauma. Therefore, the benefit I will get from processing this one will, to some extent, trickle down to the others. We discussed the details. Talked about which parts of me will discuss this with me, what that part will need, what I will need, etc. Then the whole next week I was nauseous!!!!! I was TERRIFIED!! Throughout that week, I did manage to have two good days, but the other five were horid. The anticipation of processing such a scary thing was most unpleasant. However, I tried to tell myself that anticipation is often worse than the event itself. I reminded myself that I am an adult, have great coping skills now, it is 2011 (not anywhere near 1974), and I have support. I can do this. These thoughts would settle me for awhile, then later the feelings would start all over again. It was like riding waves all week long. Rising fear reactions, calming strategies used, calmness achieved, rising fear reaction, calming strategies used, and on and on and on.

Well, I am very proud to say that when my session time came, I DID it!!!! And it went fine. My T sort of left me (and Molly-the internal 4 yr. old) to decide where to start and where to end for the day, and we ended up talking about the portion from when the doctors took me from my parents for the procedure, prepped me, and put me to sleep. There was a lot even in that seemingly small piece. I chose to stop at the point where I remember falling off to sleep because my T had me recall how I felt then, and I felt peaceful, so peaceful in fact, I wanted to freeze it there, so I told her I wanted to stop there for now. I didn't want to go to the part where I woke up during it all. As it turns out it was an excellent decision as we had only 15 minutes left of session time. My T said we could go over if needed, but I didn't want to need to do that, so we spent the last 15 minutes tucking it all away and she gave me this sort of hypnotic suggestion (best way I could describe it) about all that I tucked away staying safely in her office and blah blah blah, and so far (to my surprise) it has worked! I feel much better than I thought I would---although I did come home and take a nap afterwards. This stuff wears me out!

It was tough, but I did a great job of maintaining co-presence and had a sort of "braiding", or intertwindness to the experience between Molly and myself. Let's say there was evidence of definite integration of experience going on. There were lots of tears. There were times I froze and put up my wall/guard out of fear and had to work to lower that to allow it to come, but I did it. Weird thing through it all.... We found I was more scared to do this than "Molly". TOTALLY opposite of what I expected. But on the way home it occurred to me that at the moment it happened, it was ME that was terrified, and thus created Molly subconsciously to get me through it. So I guess it makes sense.

I am beginning to feel, for the first time, that I just might not be DID forever. I can see that I can really heal from all this. It's amazing. My mind has occassionally drifted back to the portion we discussed, and it almost feels like any other memory, albeit not the most pleasant memory. The sting of it is very minimal and at some parts totally absent. I am still, and always will be I'm sure, in awe of this process.

My husband had surgery this week two days after my session (nothing too major; he is fine). I was able to go back to the prep area with him, and next to him was a little girl in for a surgery. The parents and staff were so good to her, I couldn't help but notice. The parents were affectionate, supportive, and had informed of her why she was there, what they would do, what she would most likely experience, etc. The little girl didn't seem too anxious at all. Then the staff were so sweet to her. They verified that she was aware why she was there, etc and reinforced the parent's decision to be up front with her saying that children just do so much better and have a lot less anxiety when they know why they are here. (No, shit!) They gave her a little mask to play with etc, so the items wouldn't scare her. I would be lying if I said I wasn't envious. I wish back in 1974, my parents would've been clear with me, the staff clear with me. I wish my parents would've been appropriately affectionate and comforting to me. I wish I could've been more prepared. I wish my parents (at least one) could've gone back with me while they prepped me. That didn't happen. I wish the nurses would've given me a little teddy bear too to hold during prep and take back with me knowing it would be there in my arms again when I awoke. Can't help but wonder what a difference all that would've made. I think back in the '70's they thought it best to be quick, do procedures without the parents present, and not make too much of a "fuss about it. Be "matter-of-fact". Good to know that the medical community knows different now. That is a comfort to me. A huge comfort.

Mostly I feel ok with the part we worked on last week, but today I decided I want to continue the work this week and process the really tough part. Again, I feel sick. WHen my mond drifts to the pre-op part, my emotions remain stable and calm. Like I said, it is like any other memory, even though it is a very sad one. However, when my mind drifts to the part I haven't done yet in therapy, my anxiety skyrockets. My heart feels like it's on fire, my heart rate increases, etc., etc. immediately like igniting gasoline. I take a deep breath and tell myself all the things I did before and especially that 1974 was a LONG, LONG, LONG, LONG time ago.  It helps. I am riding the waves, but they don't come as often as before. I think the success of last session calms me and helps me not be nervous too often. I also try not to think about it. I just want to do it. Like ripping the old bandage off with one quick swipe. I just want to get through it, and based on my previous experiences processing trauma, I know eventually I will feel better once I've done it. It's scary as all get out, but it feels so good once it's done.

So, cross your fingers for me, say prayers, or whatever it is you do. I would really appreciate it. Wednesday will be quite a challenge.

Copyright© 2011 by Lothlorien– All Rights Reserved