The Unthinkable

My best friend and I went out for a little celebration yesterday.  It was his birthday, which is definitely worth celebrating.  He is, as I’ve said many times and will likely say many more times, one of the few truly good people in the world.

He helped me through a *very* difficult time last week and told me we’d get through it together.  He didn’t say *I* would get through it.  He said *we* would.  That let me know he really means it when he says he won’t walk out of my life.  Yesterday, I felt myself relaxing into that knowledge, but one of mine popped up immediately  with a warning that that would only make us more vulnerable.

I feel like my best friend has a great amount of power over me.  We discussed this, he and I.  He, more than anyone, could break me apart.  He’s seen every flaw and every weakness.  He’s seen me shaking with anger, drawing back in fear, and sobbing with pain.  In other words, he has seen through to the core of me, and I mean that in a DID sense.  He was let in to the inner circle.  Kathy, one of the two most important members of my inside group, explained that to both of us last year.  My best friend has seen the absolute darkest of me.  It’s a great honour to be in his presence, and my absolute pleasure to be his best friend.

Trust issues are difficult, though.  I wish I could say I trust him completely, with absolutely no hesitance, but I can’t say that.  He could break me.  He chooses not to, but the thought that he *could* break me keeps some of mine from relaxing completely.

The point of this post, then, is to provide a ‘public’ thanks to one of the most amazing people and the greatest best friend I’ve ever known.  It’s also to help others out there who have these same kinds of trust issues.  I love my best friend with all of my heart, and I feel horrible about the hesitance some of mine feel.  We’ve heard that sort of ‘I’ll never leave’ talk before, though, and have been hurt many times by people we trusted.  Being on guard is a way of life for trauma survivors, *especially* for SRA survivors.  The ground was pulled out from under us far too many times.

And that’s the other reason I’m writing this post– I want to tell others who are friends and loved ones of SRA survivors that the random switches and fear that sometimes pops up in us does not mean we don’t love or trust you.  It just means that some of ours see you as a threat, simply because of the past.  It’s not fair, but it’s reality.  The closer we get, sometimes, the further some of our insiders try to drive us apart.  It’s so hard to believe that someone would like us, much less love us and want to stay in our lives.

So thank you, for putting up with all of the stress that comes along with being in the lives of SRA survivors.  Thanks for talking us through the tough times, reminding us that the cult was wrong, and showing us what love and family really means.  Thanks for your protection, even when you don’t know you’re giving it. 

And most of all, thanks for being the people who have made us think the unthinkable– that we are good people, not evil throughout, and that there are people who love us in spite of all the layers and puzzles we bring along.  Those of us who are SRA survivors *have* to deal with the effects of our pasts.  Those who love us take it on, even though they’d likely never had heard of that kind of horror if we hadn’t come into their lives.  I can’t speak for all SRA survivors, but I can say that I’ll always be amazed, grateful, and honoured to have people like my best friend standing beside me.

Taking the Time

I fell right out of the world last week and am slowly making my way back.  I’ve been dealing with things that are only remotely related to SRA, and sometimes the ‘regular’ stuff gets worse than the abuse stuff.  I’m not good at stepping back and letting others (external) do the work for a while, but that’s exactly what happened this past week.  Everything except my job got shoved aside, and my dear best friend let me know he had my back all the way through it.

Progress is slow.  I still can’t seem to make it through a day without taking some time off, so to speak.   I feel so empty inside that it’s like I don’t even exist.  My therapist keeps telling me that, even though I feel as though I’m not, I truly *am* living life.  She doesn’t understand this sort of half existence.  To people who haven’t dealt with trauma or extensive loss, one either lives or dies.  So many of us know that isn’t true, though.

Life gets difficult sometimes.  I’m not the least bit suicidal.  Just a bit overwhelmed.  With my best friend at my side, though, I’m digging through.  He is such an amazing person that I won’t waste space in trying to find the words to describe him.  Things are so dark right now, and I’m caught up in the darkest of times.  My best friend just takes me by the hand and tells me we’ll get through it.  That doesn’t seem possible sometimes, but knowing that he believes it to be makes it easier to fathom.

Thanks, best friend.  Words are inadequate.

Redesigned Bereavement Blog

Click here to visit the newly-designed blog on grief/parental bereavement.  I hope you find it helpful and comforting.

Long, Dark Nights

I don’t want to believe in SRA.  Nope.  Never happened.  This funny looking scar on my arm happened when I fell on a pyramid-shaped toy that happened to be rather hot.

Here’s the problem with that logic– it doesn’t change what happened to me or all of the other SRA survivors out there.  Neither our attempts at disbelief nor the disbelief of those who haven’t experienced it first hand changes even a minute of what happened to me and what is still happening to others.  As I said in this post I don’t feel the need to defend myself.  After all, I’ve faced much worse than criticism.

Consider that a blanket message to everyone.  I will discuss SRA via email or on this blog, but respect *must*  be given on all sides at all times.  And I will not argue the point of whether SRA exists.  If you are not interested in, are upset by, or have some twisted need to harass people who *have* dealt with SRA, feel free not to read this blog.

Let the Festivties Begin!

Enjoy the fireworks and bonfires this Guy Fawkes night!  And will someone *please* have a bit of bonfire toffee for me?

To my friends back home (especially you, D) don’t get carried away by mischief but do, by all means, make as much as you can. 

Dream States

My father said he never dreamed.  I don’t know if he simply didn’t remember his dreams, or if he never truly reached the sleep state needed to have dreams.  Interesting concept, regardless.  I haven’t heard that from anyone else.

As for me, my dreams are typically very vivid.  They can range from blissful to average to absolutely horrifying.  Last night’s dream (or something) was incredibly disorienting.  I remember waking up early in the morning, getting out of bed to pick up something that had fallen into the floor at some point in the night, and then going back to bed.  Then there was nothing.

It wasn’t so much a deep sleep as a total lack of existence.  When I woke up, or whatever it was that I did, I was incredibly disoriented.  I didn’t know where I was, what time it was, or anything remotely concrete.  My first lucid thought was that I’d slept through my shift.  Considering I work afternoons, that would be highly unlikely.  For a minute there, I truly had only a vague idea of my self and absolutely no idea at all of my surroundings.  Everything was unfamiliar.  Yes, I know that all comes with the multiplicity bit, but this is the first time I’ve ever been aware of being, well, unaware.  That was not a comfortable feeling.

Things have settled back to average now, and I’m thankful for that.  Being disoriented to my own life was a bit on the strange side.

Andy’s Blog

As many of you have probably noticed, I’ve closed Andy’s blog.  I have all of the text and am doing some major overhauls.  The blog will reopen in the near (hopefully) future.  Just bear with me!

To all of you who have become my ‘family’ of people also dealing with this loss, thanks so much.  Please feel free to email me any time, and I’m in the process of setting Yahoo IM up again– was having a bit of trouble with that before.  I’ll post the information when it’s available.

My best and warmest thoughts to all of you.  We’re in this together!

The Thinnest of Veils

Since I’ve been able to start learning from the Wiccan Way again, life has become a bit easier, if only because I have another coping mechanism in place.  Samhain (Halloween) is completely perverted by satanists and has always been a terrible day for me and mine.  Last year was much better, and this year I was able to appreciate it for what it really is– the day the veil between this world and the Otherworld is thinnest.  It’s a great time for divination, and the best time of the year for communicating with the dead.

And communicate with the dead I did.  Or rather, he communicated with me.  I’d had this odd feeling all day, like my movements were being observed.  It wasn’t a bad feeling, really.  Just an odd feeling.  Driving along a busy road with my best friend last night, I heard a comforting voice and felt the warmest touch on my shoulder.  Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw Alan leaning towards me from the back seat.  Alan was and will always be the love of my life.  He was my one true love, and even though he married after I left England, there was always something special between us.  He was the father of my child and the only man who ever comforted me completely.  Given my background, that wasn’t an easy task.  He manged to do it, though.

He also managed to find his way back to me last night, and I’m thankful for every minute.  I didn’t say anything to my best friend about it– it just seemed like a very private experience, and telling someone you’re spending time with your dead love is a bit odd anyway.  I say that because my best friend reads this blog and will probably get a bit of a laugh out of our unseen guest. 

We sat beside a river, my best friend and I, and Alan stayed with me through the rest of the night.  I could hear him and feel his touch.  I could see him there, and even though he had a bit of a fuzzy glare surrounding him, he looked the same in every other way.  As it neared midnight, he faded away.  I’ve felt him many, many times before, but last night I got the chance to communicate with him directly.  I am so very fortunate.

This morning, I phoned the lady who became his wife, and she was glad to hear of the experience, even though it didn’t happen to her.  We have an odd sort of agreement between the two of us.  I’ve talked to one other person who understands the odd relationship we have with the loves we lose, and she had similar feelings.  Alan’s former wife (I’ll not give her name, since she is living) knew he and I shared a bond and always would.  Andy was proof of that.  Alan did love her, of course, and they had a lovely marriage.  Unfortunately for her, though, she didn’t have all of him.  She told me he had been honest and straightforward about that all along.  I won’t debate the right or wrong of that.  It simply was as is it was.

Last night, then, I spent time with my love and cherished every minute of it.  He wanted to let me know he was settled and that he watched me.  He and our son look over my life.  Spirits are recycled, but part of their essence remains.  A spirit is changed with every living thing it inhabits.  I’m comforted to know that the spirits of Alan and our son are travelling near each other, and that they are able to communicate with each other still.  And I’m comforted beyond words by having spent even a few brief hours with the person who will always have my heart and soul completely.  Death really can’t break love, and as a friend always tells me, we never truly lose those we love.  They just move on before us.

So There!

My former therapist was amazing.  She let me talk at my own pace.  She pushed just enough, but for the most part, she just let me talk.  She let me tell my story as best I could.  I can’t thank her enough for that.  Unfortunately, I go to a subsidised mental health clinic.  My old therapist went to work at a crisis centre so she would have a more organised, stable schedule.  I wish I was being sarcastic, but I’m quite serious.  So was she.

The current therapist is ok.  She’s much younger than my last therapist, and I can tell she’s still by-the-book.  I am *not* comfortable discussing SRA with her, but as the winter solstice approaches, things get a bit mad for me.  I always need a few external folks to help with that one.  At my last therapy session, I explained to the new therapist that this was a difficult time of year for me.  She got a bit miffed and literally yelled that I should say *anything* other than difficult time of year.  She said my saying it was difficult was *making* it difficult.

I understand her point– if I keep telling myself it’s an awful time, my mind will focus on that.  But it’s an awful time.

At my session on Tuesday, the new therapist actually asked me how the time of year bit was going.  I talked briefly about my anxiety over the approaching solstice and my plans to get through it.  Not once did she take issue with me.  After the session, she happened to mention that my old therapist had popped by and asked her how I was doing.  She had been thinking of me and was concerned about how the solstice was affecting me.  *smiles* I don’t think the new therapist’s change of heart would have come without my old therapist stepping in.  I’m just lucky she took the leap and talked with my current therapist.

I truly miss working with her.  I’m not certain I’ll ever have that strong of a relationship with a therapist again.  She is amazing.  Simply knowing she’s thinking of me makes the time of year easier.  Even though we’re no longer working together, she gives me confidence and hope.  Just being around her brings peace.  She puts off such wonderful, healing energy, and I could never thank her enough.

To the many good therapists out there, please know that your work continues in the minds of your clients long after the therapeutic relationship is done.

Masks

I’m feeling a bit out of sorts today.  It’s one of those days when everything seems to swirl about and take me down in some sort of magnetic spiral.  I feel like the sum total of the bad stuff in me outweighs the good by a great amount.

There are two sides of me– the person who functions in day-to-day life with a rewritten, relatively average history and the person whose family lineage traces back hundreds of years in what is quite possibly the most evil cult in the world.  Those two lives don’t often mix.  I wear a mask that protects me by distancing acquaintances from the SRA in my past.  It gets heavy, though, and sometimes I just want to throw it away.  In the past few years, I *have* dropped the mask a bit more than usual, and it’s caused negative repercussions in my life every single time.

Latelty, though, I’ve remembered why I need to keep people at more of an arm’s length.  I’d become a bit more trusting.  I’d given people a glimpse at my emotions and my faults.  I thought that perhaps I’d come to a point in my life where being guarded all the time wasn’t as necessary.  As it turns out, though, given my history and the leadership role I was to take, staying distant and on guard should be lifelong.

New people who come into my life will never hear about SRA.  For the most part, they’ll not know about my childhood trauma at all.  I *knew* being more open about what is behind my mask was a bad idea, but I did it anyway.  It’s hard to trust, and it’s hard to let people get close.  For SRA survivors, though, sometimes it’s safest not to let people in that far.  I’m so fortunate, as I wrote a couple of posts ago, to have wonderful people in my life who know my background well but love me anyway.  That circle isn’t likely to grow soon.  I’ve been reminded quite recently of the reason I built that mask in the first place.