The body of a child,
Ripped, torn and beaten.
You think it was
Tripped, worn and eaten
Up, like dinner
Served to the winner.
Prized, praised, pretty and primped.
Lies, laid, little and limp.
Promised, plied, played and pimped.
Taste the bile,
All the while,
Stick to your style
Piece of shit.
I’m sitting and watching the snow reduce itself to a massive watery mess at the curbside. The sun is slanted sideways through the evening sky shining directly upon my face through the dusty window. I feel the warmth of that solar power warm my skin. It helps to keep my bitter coffee from cooling down as its aroma fills my lungs. I feel a longing inside.
The song I hear, speaking words of loss and loneliness. I wonder what the days ahead hold in store for me. A bag sits in front of me made of the recycled bits of our past. That plastic pill holder you threw out, the casing of a syringe from the pharmacy, the bottle of booze in the gutter. Is that what went into the making of this bag? I think maybe we’re all made of recycled bits of our parents. Enmeshed, mingled, molded into something new and perhaps not so different. After going through the crushing and grinding, heating, cleansing we are then spit out in our current shape. Or maybe we’re quite different in our new shiny form. We were made for an alternate purpose, mistakenly placed amidst the hell that we suffered. Yes that’s it. It must have been some universal glitch. Surely it wasn’t meant to be this way. For whatever a believer believes in, a divinity of such cruelty should not be allowed to exist.
Have any of you esteemed readers out there learned to call on your insiders for help? I mean, for me they come and take over when my distress is too high or some other emotion is becoming intolerable. But I’d really like to learn how to stay more present in these situations. That’s the goal really. To stop with the lost time already! It gets pretty scary sometimes when you realize you’re miles away from your home and you don’t remember the trip.
I want to have that feeling of continuity that others seem to have. I look back at my life and if I see everything clearly enough it’s like a patchwork with missing pieces. There is not a complete work of art. I wonder what it looks like for the insiders. Do they see the complete picture? Is theirs even more sparse and skewed than mine? I suppose it would be for those that only have a very specific purpose, a specific job. But i wonder how many have the ability to be co-conscious, and if being co-conscious ultimately means having the full picture.
Then I start to really think about what I’m asking for. The whole picture. This picture is going to have some pretty ugly parts. some parts that are gruesome and hurt to look at. But at this point in time, I think I would rather see the whole, ugly gruesome thing than to have all of these empty spaces.
For those of you that have recovered the pieces have you found it to be a better way of being? I know that it’s an arduous process and so painful to finally realize the full scope of the harm that has befallen us, but is it better? If it isn’t than what really is the point? What is the goal? What does healing mean?
Do you have a definition of what being healed means for you?
So today I had group. It’s a DBT group. We are currently talking about interpersonal effectiveness. It’s not the first time I’ve gone through this module. I think I have a pretty firm grasp on how to ask for what I need and how to say no to unreasonable requests. But it becomes a matter, once again of how this will be interpreted by the insiders.
Scratch all that. We don’t want to talk about that. What’s really on our minds is grief. Stupid grief. Who wants to think about grief? not me, not the rest of us. But there it is anyway. There have been many deaths in the family in the past 8 months. It sucks. One was our cousin, one was our grandma and one was our uncle. Not even the bad uncle, a good uncle. It makes us very sad sometimes. especially our grandma. She was like Mrs. Claus. She looked like her and everything. She was nice and she loved us and she had rosy cheeks. We have a statue that she kept in her house of her old dog. We loved that dog too and he died. But we have his statue so we don’t miss him so much.
We have our own dog. SHe is a beagle. And we have two cats. One is plump and one is skinny The skinny one has diabetes so she has to have shots. But it doesn’t hurt her too much. Our dog is very cute. SHe sleeps a lot and she likes to play at the dog park. She really likes to play in the snow which is a good thing because we have a lot of snow in the winter in our new home. Well not in our home, but in our city, outside. You know what I mean.
Anyway I just wanted to say that we are sad sometimes because there has been too many people dying and now our dad is sick. But he has been sick for a long time and he said he’s not going to die anytime soon.
So that’s all right now.
Some of us.
So we talked today in therapy about the loss of connection I’ve been experiencing with my emotions. If you remember in my last post Icky Sticky Feelings, I was talking about how to sit with your feelings. reading back I guess I never really completed my thoughts on that. I AM indeed trying to sit with those feelings and it’s true that I want to lessen the burden of my insiders, but it seems in this endeavor I’ve managed to shut down my emotions completely instead. I am in a state of non-feeling. That is aside from the anxiety I’ve been feeling about a volunteering opportunity that’s come up.
This means that yes, there are words of the day. Compartmentalization and containment. We followed the trail of breadcrumbs, my therapist and I . It turns out the non-feeling is my way of working the skills I’ve been trying to learn. Emotion regulation, check… no emotion at all. Distress tolerance, check… no emotion at all.
I’m not doing this consciously mind you. It also has to do with the phase of treatment I’m in. We aren’t dealing with yucky trauma stuff right now. Not until we can be reasonably sure I have a grasp of grounding skills. Things like staying in the moment, being present within myself and also being able to tolerate intense emotion.
This is where the containment conundrum comes in to play. If I practice feeling a little more intensity than what I can currently tolerate I slip away and an insider takes over for me. which ok, hey I’m used to that. But with most of my insiders comes trauma content and very intense emotions. Flooding, a bunch of past events rushing to the surface, they start to spill over into everything. It’s not a pretty sight or a comfortable place to be. So in essence I’ve compartmentalized each emotion into a different insider. Shitty job they have right?
In the back of my mind I carry around this containment field that automatically switches into action any time I reach my tolerance level. So how does one practice feeling a little more, a little more, a little more when the switch is not under your control? Any ideas on that would be great.
The whole thing becomes an inescapable loop. Feel–>Switch–>Trauma–>Shut Down. Maybe it’s not so much a loop as it is a squiggly line. Unless, of course, the containment field is somehow breached so that the feeling comes roaring back, then it does become a loop. Ugh!
Coincidentally on a final note for the night, we went through a list of feelings I can tolerate and how much of each. Anxiety is something I tolerate quite well. Which yuck! Why would I choose that one to be MY job?