Sixes and Sevens.

It’s 2:45am and I’m sitting with a coffee. I am utterly exhausted yet can’t fall asleep due to a pesky cough that only turns up during the night when sleeping.

I finally got myself to therapy earlier. With the help of some people here and also a nice response from Sienna whom I texted my struggles to.

My auto-immune diseases are flaring still. I’m in my 9th week of feeling truly crap. I am pretty much housebound most of the time because I am so exhausted and fatigued. I am in pain all over my body. It’s tolerable pain, but annoying and wearing all the same. The nausea I am experiencing most days is next level shit-ness.

I’m sure all of that isn’t helping my ability to cope with therapy stuff.

My session was okay. Not exactly what I needed – which was just to be a drippy “feeling sorry for myself” mess and just lie in a cuddle with Sienna.

But she never offered and I never asked. I still rarely initiate hugs. I can’t. The young ones if they’re the ones mostly in the room, they can ask and do. But if there’s enough adult or teen around, then I just can’t ask for hugs. I feel ashamed.

And shame was a huge topic in my therapy tonight. I feel so much shame for having child needs. Of being a grown-ass adult who spent so much of her life being super independent and capable and now has opened Pandora’s box and realised that all that independence was just masking deep fears and survival modes.

I don’t want to be weird. I don’t want to be a grown woman with the needs of a toddler. Which is currently where I am at. And it is embarrassing. And it is frustrating that I need this concentrated level of input on a weekly basis just to stay on an even keel.

My session had some pretty interesting conversations at times. Especially at the end when I started talking openly about the child parts and how they work, what they do. Sienna spoke about Sofia turning up to sessions a while back. I asked how she knew, and she said that Sofia wears different clothes!

I asked what like? And Sienna said black and purple clothes, dark eye-makeup. I was surprised as I don’t really remember Sofia wearing different clothes. But I do know that she wears dark make-up. Whereas when I go to therapy, I wear very little makeup/light, I like a natural barely there look.

Sienna said that a change in clothes or hairstyle sometimes what alerts her to there being a new part in the room.

I felt curious about that. It’s always strange when someone really sees me and notices things, even I don’t realise.

I wonder what she’s made of my change in style lately? I have definitely started buying slightly different colours and styles of clothes. More youthful and fun perhaps. Brighter colours that usual. I am really addicted to slogan sweatshirts and bright rainbow colours right now.

And I’ve taken to wearing my hair in bunches. Pretty much exactly like this ;

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That’s pretty unusual for me. I don’t know why exactly, excepts that how a part wants it. I don’t know who but someone young. I’ve been feeling a lot of vulnerable youngsters around lately.. But from a practical point of view, I’ve needed my hair up and away from my neck as my auto-immune flare means I get quite warm at times.

I just feel all at sixes and sevens (is that a british phrase?) I feel like I am on an open channel right now and I am streaming all the alters. I feel all of them, and hear all of them and am sort of slipping in an out slightly between all of them. Meaning that things inside of me are very fluid and blended and it’s open season for all of them to just pop in and out. And it isn’t one at a time either, it’s like holding 10 children all at the same time, experiencing every single one of them simultaneously.

So I feel confused and discombobulated and so aware of all the alters, and seeing things from all of their perspectives, which causes me to feel weird and embarrasssed .

I feel so much need to be with Sienna all the time. I feel clingy and needy. And because I didn’t get what I needed tonight, part of me is tempted to ask for another session on Saturday if she has space. But another more adult part of me doesn’t feel like there’s any point or need even for it. Especially since I am unwell and since even though I am feeling so confused and blended with the parts, there’s not actually anyone with anything pressing to talk to her about. I suppose the need is for comfort and safety.

It’s like, I want to be with Sienna. I yearn to be in that office with her. Safe. I don’t need to survive whilst I’m there, I can put all of that down for an hour. But when I actually get there, reality bites and I suddenly don’t feel the comfort or safety I thought I would. And the parts don’t ask for what they need or talk about what’s really bothering them. Though they have been trying admittedly.

So why spend money on another session that won’t help anyway?

I do have a check in set up with Sienna for Friday, so we’ll just wait and see what tomorrow brings before I decide what I need.

 

 

 

 

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Do nothing and wait.

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I woke up yesterday morning from the most vivid of nightmares.

It was SO real. I woke up dissociated. Frozen. I spent hours in bed, unable to get myself up.

The dream…. well it was a CSA one again. I don’t think the actual events in the dream are memories. Yet, the dream feels true. The feelings and the experiences in it see, real. Yet….. here I am, still with no concrete memories of anything like that having ever occured.

CSA dreams are awful and I get them at least once or twice a week. I barely even register them anymore. And there’s no one to tell since I can’t reach out for support. So I don’t do anything with those dreams. I don’t speak about them much.

But every now and again, once comes along that floors me. And that one yesterday had me on my ass.

The details of the dream, seem like clues, part of memories perhaps?

The child’s narrative, the way she spoke and what she showed me in those dreams was just horrific. And she described things in her own childish language, not knowing the real words for the things she experienced.

I couldn’t shake that dream off. I just cuddled deeper into my duvet. Lay there feeling sad and alone and horrified and really missing Sienna.

Eventually, I drew a picture on the sketch app on my phone and amazingly that was enough to move me through the frozen state and allowed me to go shower which grounded me even more.

The rest of my day went fine but I did feel longing to have my therapist home. I still do.

4 days. 4 days until I see her again. Part of me feels joy at the thought of seeing her again. A young part of me just wants to reunite with her. Cuddle into her and be reassured that she’s back.

Yet when I imagine being there and seeing her I feel nerves and like I have nothing to say and then I feel anger towards her. I can feel my defenses bristle when I imagine being there. I can imagine not wanting to engage much with her, not wanting to show her I missed her or that it was hard, her being away for 3 weeks.

And I feel scared.

Scared to start therapy again, scared about what might come up, what ruptures we may face. Scared of the work ahead.

I’ve been having this recurring thought lately about finding a new therapist. Of feeling overwhelmed where I am with Sienna.

I don’t feel ready for where I find myself at in therapy with Sienna. I feel like I’ve been pushed into a space I’m just not ready for because of Sienna’s needs.

It doesn’t feel good. I feel like crying even typing this. I find myself flooding right now with feelings of fear, sadness and mistrust.

Fear that if I tell her how i’m feeling or struggling with this space we are in that she’ll make me leave her. That she’ll tell me to find something or someone else.

Fear that saying it, makes it real.

Fear that saying it out loud make it something I have to do something about.

Fear that saying it to her or out loud makes all my worries real and means that my therapy with her will have to come to an end.

Fear that things are really as terrible and as broken as they feel.

Fear that we have to deal with last year’s rupture.

Fear that I’ll be triggered back into a not coping place.

Sadness, sadness that my needs aren’t being met in the way that I want and need.

Sadness that once again I seem to be having to put my needs on hold so that another attachment figures can come first.

Sadness for all that I’ve lost in terms of trust and attachment and security.

Sadness for the deep suspicion and mistrust I have of Sienna now. Sadness for how much we lost through last year’s rupture and the hugely painful months that came before it.

Sometimes I feel like everything is broken beyond repair. And it feels awful. Sometimes it feels like we are coasting along because none of us want to admit it’s all broken.

I wonder if we are both staying on safer grounds because to discuss the rupture and the true costs of it would mean admitting it’s all fucked beyond repair.

And when all those feelings flood me all at once, I push them away, I push the down and away as far as possible so that I can maintain a working relationship with my beloved therapist. Pushing those thoughts and feelings down mean I don’t have to face another ruined relationship. I can’t bare the thought of it. So pushing it all away allows me to keep her.

But of course, being so fragmented, there’s also another side – several sides most likely, that are equally true.

Part of me says nothing is broken, certainly not beyond repair. That Sienna is committed to me and will help us find a way through.

There’s parts of me who trust her deeply. And have confidence in her ability. Parts who find safety with her. Parts who adore her. Other parts can see her as the flawed human who makes mistakes and that that’s okay. That part of my work is learning to tolerate other people’s mistakes and flaws. To not run away or distance myself when the fear of people’s humanity and short-comings threatens to overwhelm me.

And it’s really hard to hold within me opposing realities. Because both feel right and true to me and that makes it hard to know what’s right and what action I should take. It makes it hard for me to know if I need to protect myself or if I am letting my fears get in the way.

So for now, I do nothing. I wait. I will let thing unfold as they must.

 

 

 

 

Just about coping.

Yesterday was …… shit. Yes, shit is an accurate summation.

Last night I had this weird experience of hearing a baby crying. Like a really young baby. But its cry wasn’t normal, it was a distressed, traumatised cry.

And I was experiencing the baby’s distress as if it were me or I was it… I don’t know… it’s very hard to describe.

I have been playing a game on my phone a lot to distract and calm myself but this baby’s cry just interjected constantly for about 30 minutes or so.

Not sure if it’s a body memory thing or a dissociative part of me or something else.

But it hurt.

I flipped about all day, feeling okay and not okay. And mostly okay but not really okay.

Low level crapness.

Is this really all because my therapist isn’t here? ☹

Amelia and the Demon

I realise I am quite behind with my sessions. So this one that follows is from two weeks ago. It’s long, so get a coffee 🙂

Session on Monday the 19th FebruaryScreenshot_20180304-042704

I started the session regaling Sienna with stories of my trip away with friends. We’d spent a night in a spa hotel.

She was delighted that I’d seemed to be able to participate in something without worrying too much and acting spontaneously.

And it’s true, the previous week I’d done well in many respects. But amongst it was all of Amelia’s drawings, she was so distressed. And I’d felt such an aching emptiness many times throughout the week. The old attachment emptiness, the lack of self, lack of mother, lack of love and of nurturing. And that is always really tough.

Last week had good moments for sure, but the splits between the trauma alters and the adult me who was just living life, going out with friends and immersing herself in her art were strong, evident and striking, to me at least. No one else knew. But I could feel it.

For example, on the previous Wednesday, Amelia drew those disturbed drawings, highly traumatic feelings and expressions of distress….. yet 15 minutes later there I was in the car with my friends chatting and laughing – being the adult I needed to be and not even thinking much at all about the distress or trauma stuff. I mean, I could feel that I was splitting, I could feel that I was sort of in survival mode and the slight fuzzy disorientated feeling was never far away. But far enough away not to be noticed by anyone.

Sienna asked if I’d felt any anxiety about staying away as she knows on previous trips my anxiety has been huge and I’ve struggled to leave my house.

I told her “ Even though I’ve done a lot of good things, I’ve been dissociated a lot – a lot, a lot, a lot!!!” I emphasised.

Sienna said “ Yes, I can see that. Because that trip was last Wednesday, yet on Friday we had the phone check in because you’d struggled with dreams…. Do you feel like you were dissociated when you were with me (on the phone)? I mean, I thought you were, it’s as if there was a little one there.”

I agreed, nodded my head. The phone call felt distant, a far away memory but I think I remembered at the time channelling a younger part.

Sienna continued “ Yeah, I thought so, there was very much a little one at the forefront. And that’s find, I’m glad she could ask for what she needed.”

I said to Sienna that it was the adult who’d asked for the call on the Thursday. I explained that I knew the young part wasn’t going to settle, so I was as well asking for help and even though adult me didn’t need or want a call, the child part did and the best way to settle a young part is to help them get their needs met.

As I traced my steps back to last week and what led to me asking for a call, I suddenly remembered that the previous Monday’s session had been weird. That I’d had a big dissociation towards the end of the session but when I “woke” out of it, it felt like the whole session just disappeared. I had felt like I’d only been there 15 minutes, not an hour! I don’t think that’s ever happened before.

And now, I told Sienna, “I can’t remember that session. It’s just a black hole.”

I recounted how heavily dissociated I’d been the previous week.

“ I find it really hard to get out the dreamy place after I’ve woken up, it takes a long while. I can’t stop sleeping, I feel heavily sedated. Time is weird, I don’t know where I am, I don’t know the day or the month. Sometimes I think it’s November still. Sometimes I think we are at the end of March (instead of end of February) and I get a fright because it feels like I’ve lost a lot of time. I feel disorientated a lot. And there are parts that were screaming in my head last Tuesday. I can’t remember what they were saying only that they were loud and distressed.

Yet, if I have adult things to do…. I’ve been getting them done. So it feels strange. To feel so very dissociated and disorientated yet also somehow keeping on top of my adult life things.”

I could feel just talking about this was pulling me into a confused slightly dissociated place. The foggy feeling was drifting in.

Sienna wondered whether this was a sign of my adult ego state strengthening; that I could do all the adult things even though things were feeling so dissociated. Perhaps the adult was better able to hold things now?

I agreed.

Listening to the session, I hear my voice start to turn a bit thick, kind of like when someone has had a drink and isn’t drunk exactly but starting to edge that way…. Not slurring but just not as precise in their speech.

“ I can’t remember much about our phonecall on the Friday, everything feels like…. Like someone’s just taken the memory off me and there’s just black where the memory used to be.”

Sienna said “ It was very much about….. well you came on the phone and said you’d had a bad dream that I’d closed my private practice, so I wondered with you if that dream was anxiety about me going on holiday? And I’m going so far, and maybe there’s a panic in the young ones.”

I nodded.

Sienna continued “ – but you couldn’t really answer that, you weren’t sure…. You just had that feeling of distress. And Amelia was about, you said. And she keeps drawing bad pictures, black and red pictures…”

I laughed slightly and nodded, yeah, she does.

I told Sienna that I’d been looking back to last year’s blog posts and had discovered a post called Amelia. And as it turned out, Amelia first turned up exactly a year ago this week. I told her of my amazement at this because up until last week, I hadn’t known who Amelia was. She had been written down last year on the list of alters we know about but when I saw her name on that list a few weeks ago, I had no idea who she was. Not even her name rang a bell.

Sienna said surprised in a soft tone “ Did she?”

I nodded.

Sienna said “ I think I remember us having conversations about….. I’m trying to remember…. I think her name came up and I recognised straight away her writing. That we’d seen it loads of times in other things and in some of the pictures you’d done in the books, she was there but we just didn’t know her name – or I didn’t. And I’m sure at some point whether it was last Spring having a conversation about because we’d been in relationship for the longest time.. – and also things were quite rocky, we wondered if it was her wondering how long I’d stay around because no one had stayed around that long. And that was 6 months of quite a lot of insecurity around that. And Amelia’s name was about at that time and her pictures were about.”

I nodded.

Sienna added “ And then in the Summer, it went downhill.”

I felt ill remembering it. I said “ I know.”

Sienna said “ But that’s fine, that’s part of the process. It wasn’t pleasant at the time but it was really important to go through. And I think Amelia comes out when there’s a lot of anxiety, particularly about attachment. So that’s why I was wondering if it’s my impending holiday that’s triggering this. Even if it’s unconscious. Because your adult’s saying yeah go on holiday, it’s fine…”

I laughed “ Is she?”

I laughed but I was irked that Sienna would assume to know what any of my parts are feeling about her THREE week trip. She hasn’t outwardly asked me how I’m feeling. I’ve been feeling anger about it and a resistance about even talking about it with her. Because honestly…. What’s the actual point?

Before breaks, I’ve always felt anxiety, dread, sadness but never anger. Not that I can remember. I’ve been avoiding thinking about this break much because it is what it is. It’s happening no matter what I feel about it so I may as well suck it up and deal.

And I’m not so angry about her going away for 3 weeks. That isn’t the anger. The anger seems to be accompanied with the huffy, churlish thought of “ My feelings on it don’t matter. Why bother talking about my anxiety or the young parts sadness and longing whilst you’re away, because it just irritates you. You don’t want to hear how I feel.” And I feel immense anger about that.

This thought and feeling isn’t entirely based in non-reality. Because last April/May, Sienna did admit to being frustrated and a bit annoyed/irritated that breaks were still such a sticking point with me, that they still caused so much disturbance. So, given that I know this…. Why on earth would I deliberately irritate her by sharing my feelings on it?

I think she mistakes my lack of conversation about it as me coping better and being more comfortable with her breaks…. Ummm wrong!

So yeah, my “ Is she?” comment about my adult being okay about the break was me reminding Sienna not to assume.

Sienna said “ Well, maybe she is, maybe on the surface it’s okay but the little ones inside aren’t.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to talk about it.

Sienna continued “ I asked on Friday morning if Amelia would let you bring in some of the pictures and you were like um no.” She laughed slightly.

I said “ Well, I brought them with me.”

Sienna said surprised “ oh! Well maybe she is okay with it then.”

I said to Sienna “ I don’t think she speaks. I don’t know. Does she? I don’t know?” I couldn’t remember if Amelia has ever spoken directly to Sienna.

Sienna said “ No, well someone else was talking for her on Friday, for sure. She doesn’t talk. She talks through her pictures.”

I exclaimed in agreeance “ YES! That’s what I think.  I wrote that on my blog.”

Sienna asked if I’d read the blog post about Amelia from last year. I told her “ Yes, I brought it in.” I got it out my bag and handed it to Sienna.

I said “ And I’ve brought in a picture she drew last year, you’ll remember this, she sent you the drawing in a text but she destroyed it.”

Sienna said “ Right, so she’s the one who does all the ripping.” Lots of artwork in my journal had been ripped out.

Sienna asked “ Is she the one who wrote what’s inside the envelope?”

Sienna was referring to an envelope in my journal from last year. It is sealed and written on the front is “ A secret never told.” It’s never been opened. I think Sienna is extremely curious about it because she’s asked about it many times over the year. To be honest I’m not entirely sure what’s in it.

I laughed and said to Sienna “ You’re dying to know what’s in that envelope, aren’t you?”

Sienna said “ No, not really. No. Not until you’re ready… there’s absolutely no rush.”

I said “ I don’t even know what’s in it!”

Sienna said “ No, it’s just that there’s a secret being held somewhere and there’s not point in forcing anyone. When they are ready, they will open it.”

I went back to the blog posts about Amelia. Sienna read the 3 pages.

We commented back and forth about Amelia and about the system in general. Trying to work it out, to get to know better what happens when she’s about.

As Sienna flicked through Amelia’s drawings, she talked about the recurring dreams I’d told her about right from the beginning of therapy with her, about the dead girl in the attic. About the different stages of decomposition.

Sienna said “ you talked about that right from the beginning and here it is showing in your drawings again. For me it’s always been a really powerful metaphor for fragmentation, that holds really powerful distressing and difficult material that won’t go away. And is hidden, not to be seen by anybody, not to be found. But obviously very dark and distressing for you. And you talked about your bedroom as a little girl just being there and sitting on your bed and you would cry on your own.

But you didn’t know what age, you didn’t know…. It was almost like a separate story from the other bits you’d tell me about. Just like, your normal family life.”

I felt strange. Floaty.

I said to her “ I don’t remember crying in my room.”

Sienna said “ And maybe it’s because those elements are so split off from a lot of your everyday experience.”

Sienna went back to the drawings. Amelia’s drawings.

She looked at Amelia’s frantic scribblings of her name, over and over. She said “ You know it’s like a little girl saying I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. But she doesn’t know people are trying to find her and we can’t reach her.”

I don’t know why I started slipping into another place. But something about talking about Amelia, talking about her drawings and about things I said that I can’t remember… combined with there being time to let my adult-self slip away as Sienna quietly read my blog and flicked through the images. But in the recording as Sienna asks me a question, I say “ I don’t know” and I sound like a tiny child.

Oh yeah, I’m gone. Sienna doesn’t notice yet. But I’m gone. Someone else is here.

Sienna says flicking through my journal “ I wonder what Amelia needs to help her. I do wonder? Poor Amelia. Very scared isn’t she? And alone.”

I say “ I don’t even sense fear, it just…. Distressed.  I don’t understand why. I don’t know.”

Sienna said referring back to Friday’s call, “ And you asked when I go on holiday if you can take the blue pillow, do you remember that?”

I laughed and nodded. The blue/turquoise floor pillow stays in Sienna’s office but it’s become “MY pillow.” The thing I hold onto very often for comfort and protection. In our call Sienna asked if there was anything she could give me as a transitional object to help me while she’s away and I had asked if I could take the blue pillow home with me. Really, I’d love a cardigan or jumper belonging to her but I felt like too much of a creep to ask. So the pillow is something I also very much relate to her and that seemed less creepy to ask for.

Sienna smiled and said “ And of course you can.”

Sienna said “ Her images are so powerful. What I would say about Amelia is that because she has no words, no language, that she’s presenting herself through images. So, when she presents like that, try and take special attention and capture it. Even if it doesn’t make any sense, because that’s how she’s trying to communicate.”

I nodded. “ It’s weird, cos when it comes over me, I couldn’t even say Oh, this is Amelia I wouldn’t know, I just know that I have to draw and it’s like being in this dissociated place and it’s page after page after page, and it’s almost frantic….. but then once it sort of slows down a little bit and I see what’s been done on the pages, this Editor part comes in says, no that can’t stay, this looks really bad….

Sienna interjected “ And that’s what I was getting on the phone actually – because I was asking if you thought Amelia would let you bring the drawings to therapy and it was like a hard no, that she doesn’t want anyone to see them. It was a case of you didn’t know and you’d need to see how it felt on the day. There was some resistance to that. But now, when you see those images, what sense do you make of it? Or what feelings does it invoke in you?”

I paused to think.

“ Just a lot of confusion. I feel very confused about it and I don’t understand why… what that’s about. I don’t understand why she’s doing that. I don’t like it, I don’t…. I look at those drawings and I think that looks like quite traumatic stuff but I don’t know what that is, I don’t feel that, why am I doing that? Stop doing that! It’s just confusing and it’s hard to NOT destroy that (the drawings).”

Sienna said “ I mean, she’s drawn worse. If you look back at your first journal, she’s drawn worse.”

I was surprised to hear that. I couldn’t think what images were worse. How does Sienna remember that? I can’t remember Amelia drawing.

Sienna said “ The first one you drew, during our time here…”

I interjected “ In here?” shocked that I’d have drawn anything like that in front of anyone.

Sienna said “ Yes”

Me, incredulous “ I drew it IN HERE?”

Sienna said “ No, no, you brought it in and again they were very black but that was pre- knowing what her name was but you can tell it’s hers , looking backing. They were very dark, abusive, distressed pictures.”

I felt embarrassed. Scared. I said quietly “ I don’t know why.”

Sienna said “ Well that’s the whole point, there’s no words to it. It’s an experience, potentially. Split off which is what happens because you don’t feel the trauma, that’s why she’s split off. It’s another reason why potentially she’s…. that nobody is going to let her come in a hurry, because the other parts don’t want to have to feel it all. So the protection mechanism is still in place and that knowing about it is protection I think.

But on another level, I think it’s really important to say to Amelia,  that I see her. And she’s not evil and she’s not bad. And I understand why she can’t come here. But know that this is safe and I feel her and she’s not alone.

And I don’t need to know what it’s all about in order just to care and feel empathy for her distress. She feels like a really lost little girl.”

Oh God. Sienna was talking directly to Amelia. And I knew Amelia was there, listening, I could feel it. I could feel her. It’s always hard when Sienna starts talking with the parts directly, they are not used to being seen.

I felt Amelia, breaking through and past the permeable membrane of adult me as Sienna spoke to her. The adult me receded and Amelia was at the front.

I felt Amelia’s sadness, her vulnerability and distress. I felt floaty and sleepy and tearful.

The room fell silent.

I can’t say what I was thinking or feeling cos I was no longer there and I don’t remember what was going through my mind.

Eventually, Sienna’s voice broke through the silence “ Is she there? Is she listening?”

I nodded, made an affirmative noise.

Sienna asks quietly, “ Does she want a hug?”

I shake my head immediately. Amelia does want a hug but she can’t ask, can’t accept. She feels too unworthy of it, too dirty.

Sienna said softly “ Does she want anything? Or does she just need to be here?”

I say quietly “ She says she’s dirty.”

I remember now, hearing Amelia crying and wanting to draw the word dirty.

Sienna said softly “ I know she feels that. But you’re not dirty. It’s someone else that’s made you feel like that. It’s a word that you use in order to understand the feelings that you’ve got. It’s not about being dirty. It’s about being hurt.”

I’m crying. I put my arms out limply and then I make a washing motion with my hands “ I just want to get clean, I just feel I want to get clean.”

Sienna says “ I know, I know.”

I curl up into myself. Bring my knees up to my chest in an effort to get small and to hide or comfort the level of vulnerability I was feeling.

I sob to myself. Head down.

Sienna said “ It sometimes feels that it’s someone else who’s contaminated you. That it’s stuck on you that you can’t get rid of it.”

Amelia rejects that immediately “ No, it’s me.”

Sienna pauses and then says “ It’s just a word to describe a feeling, and nobody is born dirty, nobody is born bad.”

Amelia doesn’t believe her. She knows she’s dirty, it’s on her, it’s in her. She wants to sit in a bath of bleach but she knows it won’t make much difference.

Sienna said “ You just feel that way because you can’t see beyond the feeling. But that’s not true.

You are as good and as….. I don’t even want to use the word clean, because there’s no such thing as being clean or dirty…. You’re just normal. It’s normal to have these feelings when you’ve internalised something that doesn’t belong to you. You’re just a little girl whose been really confused about feelings.”

I make a sound that makes it seem like I am quietly agreeing with Sienna but actually I was just acknowledging that I was listening. Inside there was a war. Amelia knew that Sienna couldn’t understand. That she wasn’t seeing that she really IS dirty, inside and out. That there’s no way to get rid of the dirt. She IS the dirt.

I cried silently.

Sienna said “ Amelia’s a little girl who should be allowed to play. And do normal things. But I can sense that in the front of her mind she had all these dark, dark images and pictures and she’s allowed to put those image onto paper as much as she likes. You do what you need to do. As long as it’s not dangerous to you, if that helps get the feelings out.

Is she worried about me going away?”

I shake my head and shrug at the same time.

Sienna says “ Is she okay?”

Sienna asks if Amelia knows why she’s surfaced again?

I say no.

Sienna says “ She’s maybe just full, and she just needs to get all this out. She holds all this by herself for months on end.

Do you know what emotion is behind your tears?”

I think and then say full of tears “ Dirty. I want to be clean.”

Sienna asks “ Did someone tell you that you were dirty?”

I reply in a burst of tears, a resistance to remembering, a resistance to…. Explaining, maybe “ I don’t know!!!!”

Sienna nods seeing the resistance. She lets me have it and doesn’t push me. “ You just feel it, hmm?”

I sob and nod. Bereft.

Sienna says “ and that’s really hard to bear, especially when everyone’s telling you you’re not that way, you’re not dirty.

Do you know that even if you were, everybody would still love you? And even if you were, it’s not your dirt.”

I whisper “ it is mine. It’s mine.”

Sienna said “ No. You know when you feel like that, it’s your sense of self that feels dirty. And you aren’t. And I’m not going to collude with that feeling.

Because there’s nothing you can do to change you can’t do anything to it, you’ve got to decide and get to that point inside yourself that “actually this feeling doesn’t belong to me. I have to give it away I have to reject it.”

I was shaking my head no. Amelia wasn’t ready to give up the dirty feeling because she knows in her heart that it’s her dirt. It is in her, it is on her, it sticks to her like tar. She is made of it. And she couldn’t understand why Sienna would insist otherwise. Can’t she see it????

Sienna continued “ – And let Amelia come out to play. So whoever is holding her back….. so that she’s encased in that belief, needs to come and talk and tell us why they think Amelia should stay hidden.”

And just like that, a new part moved in. Angry. Possibly male. A powerful disembodied voice inside my head telling Amelia to shut up, she’s not real. Anger towards Sienna for challenging Amelia to be anything different. Anger at Sienna for trying to reach Amelia. Rage directed at me. It felt like a demon.

All I can do is listen to it. Amelia listens to it.

I or it, answers Sienna’s question about why Amelia should stay hidden. It’s impossible to tell that another part moved in by my voice, it still sounds like me. “ Cos she’s not real.”

Sienna hesitates and then asks “ Who says she’s not real….. hm?”

Sienna says “ That’s a big judgemental statement for someone to make. It’s very convenient for the others or some of the others to say that she’s not real. She’s as real as everybody else inside.

And I wonder if the others are a bit scared that she holds information that they don’t want anyone else to know?

But maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she’s just a very distressed little girl. Because she’s been abandoned by all of you.”

I said nothing. I was still experiencing Amelia’s distress and this other parts rage at being challenged by Sienna and a tiny bit of adult who was watching this unfolded and utterly confused.

Sienna asked “ Who’s not letting her out?”

I said “ Me.” I sounded quiet and meek but inside the rageful demonic voice was verbally attacking Sienna over and over, trying to scare her into submission.

Sienna asked “ Who is me?”

No answer.

The part recedes, not willing to say anymore. Amelia had receded too but less so.

I lift my head and begin to feel a bit more in the room.

Sienna detects the shift. “ Are you okay?” She smiles.

I nod.

She says “ Don’t let Amelia think she’s any less important than anybody else. None of the rest have any right to be thinking or doing differently.”

I don’t say anything. I can feel Sienna’s protection over Amelia. Defending her from the parts who want to shut her down.

She asks “ Is it Amelia who likes the cushion?”

I laugh meekly “ I don’t know.”

I add “ She wants a doll.”

I could feel Amelia wanting to desperately hold onto a baby doll.  “ I want a doll, I want a doll.” I saw an image of Amelia hugging tightly one a baby doll for comfort.

Sienna says “ Does she need want one to hug?”

I nodded.

Sienna says “ Maybe Sirena could go shopping and buy her one?

I nodded.

In the last 6 minutes of the session I ask “ Can I come and sit with you now?”

Sienna nods “ hmhm, we have a few minutes left.” And she pats the seat next to her. I scurry over. Into her arms.

Sometimes it feels like hug time is respite for both Sienna and I. A break from the intensity.

Sometimes it feels very much like after a toddler or young child has a major meltdown, has destroyed its surrounding and now all the power has gone out of them, there’s a quiet moment of repatriation and reassurance. Sienna often talks quietly to me, I listen, sometimes I talk a little bit, mostly I just cry and hang on to Sienna like my life depended on it, feeling utterly spent.

Those moments are so important. Those are the moments that make it okay to leave the room and pick up my adult self.

My session ended shortly after and I felt pummelled. War-weary.

As I listened to this recording of my session it strikes me how little I remembered of it. My memory seems to be a strange thing.

I don’t hold memories of that session. But when I listen to a recording, I suddenly remember it happening and what I was feeling – from all the parts. But if I was to pause the recording I literally could not tell you a single thing that happens or is said next. It’s like a big black hole.

What is that? Why does that happen? Clearly I have the memory in there somewhere since I can immediately remember details as I’m listening, but I don’t have access to the memories unless I hear the session, How does that happen?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The case of the shrinking therapist.

As a therapy veteran, I feel like I’ve experienced quite a lot of situations. But I have a new one.

This is a light-hearted post, something has occurred/is occurring that makes me laugh a bit.

I have been losing weight S-l-o-w-l-y for a while now. But recently, my therapist has lost some weight and been exercising. She has lost a stone and a half (21 lbs)

I’m happy for her, I am relieved she is taking care of herself. Carrying less weight is healthier and that’s good for me in that hopefully she keeps her good health.

But…. There’s always a “but” isn’t there?

But…. There’s a part of me, a young part who is a bit moany about it. Probably a part that doesn’t like change very much.

When I was at my session on Monday (which I WILL write up soon) I scarpered over to her sofa for a comforting hug after a very traumatised part came through. As I lay my head on her, it felt different, just slightly. And her heart rate sounded different…. Again just slightly. I only barely registered it at the time.

But since that day, It’s sort of been on my mind, nagging me a little.

I can hear a whiny voice saying “ I liked her the old way!!!!”

I liked the “extra padding.” I was comforted by her warmth and her curves. I knew them. I knew how she felt. I knew how fast my head would reach her chest as I cuddled into her. I knew the sound of her heart. I love cuddling her.

But this Monday, there was less padding, it took longer for my head to reach her chest, it felt almost like I got closer to her as there was less of her and that should feel good, right? Yet…. I liked her how she was. And once I got settled it was still warm and comforting, still her. And I know I’ll get used to her body once again. It will become familiar once more.

When I met Sienna for the first time she was tall-ish – maybe 5.7? Slimish. Not skinny at all, probably a good size 14 (Uk 14) but not fat by any degree and certainly not for her age (in her 50’s). She started putting on weight during her final year of her Masters degree. It was extremely gradual and I barely noticed it. It was always just “her”. And I always liked how she looked no matter what.

She might have gone up one or two dress sizes in that time, it’s hard to tell. But anyway, there’s less of her now and I have no idea how much more she’ll lose and I do wonder if she loses more, will cuddling into her feel more…. Angular? Less warm or less soft or less curvy? I don’t want that!! I don’t want to lose that soft, warm, safe, motherly quality.

Of course, I’ll just need to accept what she does. And of course I have no say over her body but the 5 year old just wants to shout “ I like you better when you have fat!”

But I feel like I should probably keep that thought to myself HAHAHAHA

She is looking very nice though and I did comment on how well she is looking and I know she’s pleased to have lost some weight – what woman isn’t?

But I suppose it just amuses and surprises me that the situation has come up, it’s all a bit unexpected. And I wonder if it is something worth talking about…. Yet somehow I cringe at the thought of it.

I don’t want her to feel embarrassed that I am noticing her body. I don’t want her to think or feel like I think I possess her body yet it is interesting because I suppose those very little parts do feel like her body is an extension of theirs and noticing her changing shape (less boobies!!) is a very natural observation for tiny children isn’t it?

But being an adult, I feel like talking about it to her is REALLY cringeworthy and I don’t want it to be seen as a sexualised thing because it absolutely is not. But as an adult, I really DO NOT want to be talking about her boobs being less soft. LOL, OMG even writing this is making both laugh AND want to die!!

Has anyone else experienced a changing therapist? Did you talk about it with them? Help a girl out here!!