Question:
Cause this is about something truly painful and frankly it scares the crap out of me..i’m sure it woudl trigger someone….. * * * * * * * Down down down i wonder how far i’ve fallen must be somewhere near the center of the earth.. i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth?? HOw funny it will be to come out where people all walk with their heads downward…. Okay. We had a really, really awful nightmare that has been pretty darn well proven to be a memory….and it’s really….hard to handle. *crap* *sigh* *sorry* We try so hard to talk about this but we *can’t* most of the time..it took two hours of therapy yesterday to get us calm enough to even ride the train home and the first hour was us trying to tell. Goddess. We hurt but don’t hurt. We’re angry, hurt, confused, certain, in pain, unfeeling, doubting, everything in between and nothing in particular. The nightmare…..last Thursday night….we only remember the last minute or so. Seems so much longer…we’d done something to set off the mother. Don’t remember what (didn’t take much). We were maybe 4, maybe 5…she dragged us from the kitchen by an arm and stood us on a chair….pulled down the pants…forced the body over the table and shoved something into the anus. WE screamed and i woke up, panting, terrified, covered in sweat, shaking….and the dream kept happening even though i was awake…the thing was a spatula (the kind you use to get stuff out of jars, not the kind you cook with)…the wooden handle the thing going into us….she said something like ‘you asked for it, now you’re gonna get it’…it went *on* and *on* and even though i was *awake* i could hear the screaming still…t-pist agrees the waking up was when an alter was born, that moment, probably several….we’ve had really awful body memories now…everything hurts, feels like the lower back has been bludgeoned and blood’s coming down our legs but it’s not and nothing is there… But see the problem is this screws up everything. everything. It flies in the face of the abuse we survived. It defies all logic. It defies even what fragile sense we’d made of what she did to us (it wasn’t always *good* sense, but it was sense nonetheless!)…we’d always believed this kind of thing just wasn’t done. it wasn’t sexual to her…or was it? WE don’t know. She’s not bi or gay (i know that doesn’t matter; i’m bi but i’d never harm a child!). Why do this? T=pist says it is to humiliate, debase…shame….to break the last few barriers a kid could have….says it’s why we can’t separate from her and probably just the tip of the iceberg as to why there are so many in here….It totally screws up the picture we had of our childhood! It’s just messing up everything! everything hurts….i feel i’ve been ripped apart and left in pieces like an old used up rag….i don’t know what to do…..we *have* to believe this but we *can’t* believe it it’s so out of the scope of everything we know….eerything i know….someone knows it….everything hurts but i feel no pain….i want to die but i want to keep living, just not in the current state i’m experiencing..i want to accept and move on and heal but i *can’t*….it makes no sense but it fits what we know of her sadism… I’d tried to find allegories for it. Sometimes that’s how the brain works, how things come back…like the old nightmares about trying to escape an unknown evil. But those always happen in places i’ve never seen, never been, and there’s nothing familiar about it except the feeling of having to get away and the knowledge that i never will….she did something similar when we were about 6 and a half….had salmonella and were really sick, been throwing up for four or five days and had a fever over 105, and she tried to take the temp with an old oral mercury thermometer…we had chills so bad we bit it in half. She wasn’t there so we climbed up and got another one…and promptly bit that one in half too, and that time the piece in our mouth went into the soft palate…we took it out and laid it down neatly with the other pieces and waited to be punished…she backhanded us then administered (to make a long story short) an Ivory dishsoap enema with a turkey baster, us lying down spreadeagled on the floor on a bunch of towels and told to lie still, don’t squirm, and don’t let it out….she *said* she was trying to make the fever go down….but we know now, figured out in the last few days…she had enough medical training to know she was dealing with a severely dehydrated child and likely could *kill* us doing this…and we know that’s what she wanted….the father came home and found our fever worse and us delirious and rushed us to the hospital..more of the same only this time on cold steel tables….and she held down the arms until they sent her out…we think she enjoyed watching them torture us (yes the adult mind knows they were trying to help but it was just more of the same to us)….she had made us have that enema because we bit the thermometer in half then a second one and cus we climbed up to get the second thermometer and weren’t supposed to do that….so if she could do that trying to kill us (and make it look like the sickness just did it; we’re sure she would have lied about the enema) why not punish us with anal rape? But still it’s hard to accept….then we remembered that a couple of months ago she revealed a lie to us that she’d kept alive for 27 years…she’d told us as a child that we bled from the rectum because we had been born with a prolapsed rectum and sometimes going to the bathroom would tear the scar. Two months ago we mentioned something about that in front of her and Gram and the stepshit. She categorically denied that any such surgery had taken place. So…she lied….and we were still bleeding…which means it really happened..but we were *9* when she told us about that nonexistent surgery! HOW MANY TIMES DID SHE DO THAT TO Goddess it hurts….we think we’re talking too much talking about this but it’s like an addiction and we find we can’t shut up even though we really should. I want to fold into myself and disappear….the memory is always there even when we’re wide awake and doing something else…it replays like an endless video loop behind the eyes and doesn’t stop….someone inside is always shaking…someone else is constantly curled up in a corner so her butt is hidden and *keens* like a wounded rabbit (it’s an *awful* sound at it won’t stop!!!)…nothing makes sense and everything too awfully fits the pattern….i just don’t know what to do now….this completely ruins everything but at the same time it has to be real, we have to accept it and move through it and start to heal from it but HOW???? Oh we want to kill her ravish her with a tentpole *anything*…burn her house down with her in it….but no, see, that would be murder even though to me she is a nonperson….and even that’s not true and the t-pist is right we can’t separate her from us! She anally *raped* us and we can’t get her out of our life!!! How sick is that? How sick is it that the memory doesn’t stop, the screaming doesn’t stop? WE CAN’T MAKE IT STOP…. Somebody please *help*….. maire
Response:
Dear Ma/ire – I don’t know what I will say here – but the first thing I will say is that some of my own experiences with my mother are very, very similar to yours, even to details such as the stuff having happened during a sickness which caused severe dehydration. I have no doubt that what you have dreamed and thought about are close images of a truth that happened. I wish I could take that away – from you and from me. Let me respond to the last part of your post first. I know about those little child parts who have the images and feelings over and over again, who feel such a need to protect that part of the body, but nevertheless feel what happened. Some months ago, back in the late fall, I was having feeling flashbacks, body memories, whatever one might call them. Sometimes I was afraid I was going mad and that they would never stop – I was and am grateful for the asd people and my therapist, who told me that I was not going mad and that they would stop. Yes, the children can still be triggered – they have responded to any mention of certain body parts and happenings all our life. Unfortunately, and not surprisingly, much of the triggering was due to our parents’ love of discussing the traumatic events – as if they could not possibly have been traumatic – and due to the father’s ceaseless "jokes" based on events and ideas we experienced as traumatic. Of course, we had to pretend we felt nothing at all – because otherwise we were admitting to shameful things that had happened to us, for which we had absorbed the shame, absolving the mother or blanking out her role. This is complicated, isn’t it? Okay, now we spoiler because this gets into some (discreet) talk about s*x**l*ty. 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 Part of how the triggering works with us is the revival of unwanted physical arousal (as well as the horror, shame, etc.) – in fact there was a part created to do inner stuff because we were helplessly and unhappily but intensely aroused at certain inner thoughts/actions. That has created much shame for me over the years – I have written about it here. I have recently made some important progress in this area, and the inner one does not have to involve my inner children anymore. I have found a way around this, which comes nevertheless at a cost to me, but it is worth it. I myself, the adult and responsible Beauty, have taken responsibility for feeling the unwanted feelings, the unwanted impulses. Yes – they are not wanted, but, yes, they are mine, and I have finally accepted this after having tried every other way I could think of to deal with the facts as I have to live them. Now, I have given a lot of thought in recent decades (I’m nearly 42) to the question of whether the things my mother did to me were sexual in her experience. Now, I am fortunate indeed to have important information about her own mother’s actions toward her and later my mother’s echo of these actions toward her mother when the latter was an old woman. Same thing she did to me was done to her, and she did to her mother. Also know that her mother was abused by her brothers – and probably by her mother, too. Okay – so we are talking about generations and permutations of damage here. So here’s what I think. I think my mother was acting out on me what was done to her. I have no way of knowing if this is true in the m*ther’s case for you, but your story sure makes me think right off the bat that this may very well be the case. (No excuses here – that’s not the point.) (To make it even more complicated, in my case, my father was also fixated because of things done to him – and he was emotionally and verbally incestuous toward me. My mother was acting out on me what *he* would like to have done – that’s what I think. Uck.) So, if a child experienced that, there might be sexual feelings along with the pain and horror and shame (there were for me) – and so re-enacting it on someone else might serve a combination of purposes. One would be that the gratification of any unconscious or underground sexual impulses, laid down by the enactor’s childhood experiences. The other, of course, is to deny the sexual nature of the experiences – they are medically or morally necessary, as proven by the fact that the enactor "had" to do them to her own child. And another is a release of sadistic rage – at a target which mirrors what the enactor might have come to hate about herself, namely her innocence and dependency. Well, you get the picture by now. Ma/ire, our mother has changed her stories over the years. She now does not remember what she used to own up to remembering. She denies certain things ever happened, though they were attested to repeatedly by our grandmother (not the one who was abused). I’m not surprised that your mother has changed hers. FWIW, I have had symptoms all my life which I am convinced stem from the trauma, some of it self inflicted over the years, and some of it psychosomatic too. Ma/ire, I wish I could make it go away for you. I have suffered for years, and must say that I am grateful indeed that I never lost the memories, as painful as they were. It must be a terrible shock to be given this information to cope with. I am so sorry – and yet, you are already speaking out about it, with bravery and direct speech. I am still unable to use direct references to the body parts, procedures, and violations. There is something about this kind of violation that strikes at one’s humanity. I like very much that your therapist recognizes this. Important information – terribly, terribly painful and disturbing as it is. And I believe that you will find a way to make healing use of it, relying on your own strength and determination. Survive, rise, triumph! Beauty – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Cause this is about something truly painful and frankly it scares the crap out of me..i’m sure it woudl trigger someone….. * * * * * * * Down down down i wonder how far i’ve fallen must be somewhere near the center of the earth.. i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth?? HOw funny it will be to come out where people all walk with their heads downward…. Okay. We had a really, really awful nightmare that has been pretty darn well proven to be a memory….and it’s really….hard to handle. *crap* *sigh* *sorry* We try so hard to talk about this but we *can’t* most of the time..it took two hours of therapy yesterday to get us calm enough to even ride the train home and the first hour was us trying to tell. Goddess. We hurt but don’t hurt. We’re angry, hurt, confused, certain, in pain, unfeeling, doubting, everything in between and nothing in particular. The nightmare…..last Thursday night….we only remember the last minute or so. Seems so much longer…we’d done something to set off the mother. Don’t remember what (didn’t take much). We were maybe 4, maybe 5…she dragged us from the kitchen by an arm and stood us on a chair….pulled down the pants…forced the body over the table and shoved something into the anus. WE screamed and i woke up, panting, terrified, covered in sweat, shaking….and the dream kept happening even though i was awake…the thing was a spatula (the kind you use to get stuff out of jars, not the kind you cook with)…the wooden handle the thing going into us….she said something like ‘you asked for it, now you’re gonna get it’…it went *on* and *on* and even though i was *awake* i could hear the screaming still…t-pist agrees the waking up was when an alter was born, that moment, probably several….we’ve had really awful body memories now…everything hurts, feels like the lower back has been bludgeoned and blood’s coming down our legs but it’s not and nothing is there… But see the problem is this screws up everything. everything. It flies in the face of the abuse we survived. It defies all logic. It defies even what fragile sense we’d made of what she did to us (it wasn’t always *good* sense, but it was sense nonetheless!)…we’d always believed this kind of thing just wasn’t done. it wasn’t sexual to her…or was it? WE don’t know. She’s not bi or gay (i know that doesn’t matter; i’m bi but i’d never harm a child!). Why do this? T=pist says it is to humiliate, debase…shame….to break the last few barriers a kid could have….says it’s why we can’t separate from her and probably just the tip of the iceberg as to why there are so many in here….It totally screws up the picture we had of our childhood! It’s just messing up everything! everything hurts….i feel i’ve been ripped apart and left in pieces like an old used up rag….i don’t know what to do…..we *have* to believe this but we *can’t* believe it it’s so out of the scope of everything we know….eerything i know….someone knows it….everything hurts but i feel no pain….i want to die but i want to keep living, just not in the current state i’m experiencing..i want to accept and move on and heal but i *can’t*….it makes no sense but it fits what we know of her sadism… I’d tried to find allegories for it. Sometimes that’s how the brain works, how things come back…like the old nightmares about trying to escape an unknown evil. But those always happen in places i’ve never seen, never been, and there’s nothing familiar about it except the feeling of having to get away and the knowledge that i never will….she did something similar when we were about 6 and a half….had salmonella and were really sick, been throwing up for four or five days and had a fever over 105, and she tried to take the temp with an old oral mercury thermometer…we had chills so bad we bit it in half. She wasn’t there so we climbed up and got
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Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Cause this is about something truly painful and frankly it scares the crap out of me..i’m sure it woudl trigger someone….. * * * * * * * Down down down i wonder how far i’ve fallen must be somewhere near the center of the earth.. i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth?? HOw funny it will be to come out where people all walk with their heads downward…. Okay.
Hi Maire, I read your post and it sounds to me like you didn’t make it up. I’m not an expert but I think you know its true. You can trust yourselves. You wouldn’t make something like that up. You have no reason to. I know it hurts bad to remember this, of course it will, it is a reall bad thing for a child to go through. I’m sorry that you cant’ seperate from your mother but I have a hunch you will be able to one of these days. I think your with her all this time cuz you didnt’ remember, now that you remember after you’ve dealt with it I think you will be able to make a decision about that. Don’t be so hard on yourself for not seperating. She’s your mother, of course this is hard to deal with. It was your mother that did bad stuff not you. What child wants to believe that their mother can be so brutal. I don’t know if this helps. take care puzzles — For more information about this service, send e-mail to:
Response:
i know i probably shouldnt write,i had deleated almost everythig off asd ,but i cant help it i gotta write you,i gotta going below your spoiler – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Cause this is about something truly painful and frankly it scares the crap out of me..i’m sure it woudl trigger someone….. * * * * * * * Down down down i wonder how far i’ve fallen must be somewhere near the center of the earth.. i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth?? HOw funny it will be to come out where people all walk with their heads downward…. Okay.
oh maire so so sorry for all of this,you are very very brave you know,i am proud of your courage to write this,and i want you to know what she did to you was terrible and sadistic and my father did things like that too with objects i will not feel or see or know nothing except that fact i tell you to this very day,35 years after his death and 43 years old with 3 kids to take care of this body still self harms in the same brutal and unfeeling way a testimony to the reality of his crimes,he still lives inside of me i hate them both ,yours and mine they dont desreve to be called parents and i want him outta my body for good sorry love eloise – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -We had a really, really awful nightmare that has been pretty darn well proven to be a memory….and it’s really….hard to handle. *crap* *sigh* *sorry* We try so hard to talk about this but we *can’t* most of the time..it took two hours of therapy yesterday to get us calm enough to even ride the train home and the first hour was us trying to tell. Goddess. We hurt but don’t hurt. We’re angry, hurt, confused, certain, in pain, unfeeling, doubting, everything in between and nothing in particular. The nightmare…..last Thursday night….we only remember the last minute or so. Seems so much longer…we’d done something to set off the mother. Don’t remember what (didn’t take much). We were maybe 4, maybe 5…she dragged us from the kitchen by an arm and stood us on a chair….pulled down the pants…forced the body over the table and shoved something into the anus. WE screamed and i woke up, panting, terrified, covered in sweat, shaking….and the dream kept happening even though i was awake…the thing was a spatula (the kind you use to get stuff out of jars, not the kind you cook with)…the wooden handle the thing going into us….she said something like ‘you asked for it, now you’re gonna get it’…it went *on* and *on* and even though i was *awake* i could hear the screaming still…t-pist agrees the waking up was when an alter was born, that moment, probably several….we’ve had really awful body memories now…everything hurts, feels like the lower back has been bludgeoned and blood’s coming down our legs but it’s not and nothing is there… But see the problem is this screws up everything. everything. It flies in the face of the abuse we survived. It defies all logic. It defies even what fragile sense we’d made of what she did to us (it wasn’t always *good* sense, but it was sense nonetheless!)…we’d always believed this kind of thing just wasn’t done. it wasn’t sexual to her…or was it? WE don’t know. She’s not bi or gay (i know that doesn’t matter; i’m bi but i’d never harm a child!). Why do this? T=pist says it is to humiliate, debase…shame….to break the last few barriers a kid could have….says it’s why we can’t separate from her and probably just the tip of the iceberg as to why there are so many in here….It totally screws up the picture we had of our childhood! It’s just messing up everything! everything hurts….i feel i’ve been ripped apart and left in pieces like an old used up rag….i don’t know what to do…..we *have* to believe this but we *can’t* believe it it’s so out of the scope of everything we know….eerything i know….someone knows it….everything hurts but i feel no pain….i want to die but i want to keep living, just not in the current state i’m experiencing..i want to accept and move on and heal but i *can’t*….it makes no sense but it fits what we know of her sadism… I’d tried to find allegories for it. Sometimes that’s how the brain works, how things come back…like the old nightmares about trying to escape an unknown evil. But those always happen in places i’ve never seen, never been, and there’s nothing familiar about it except the feeling of having to get away and the knowledge that i never will….she did something similar when we were about 6 and a half….had salmonella and were really sick, been throwing up for four or five days and had a fever over 105, and she tried to take the temp with an old oral mercury thermometer…we had chills so bad we bit it in half. She wasn’t there so we climbed up and got another one…and promptly bit that one in half too, and that time the piece in our mouth went into the soft palate…we took it out and laid it down neatly with the other pieces and waited to be punished…she backhanded us then administered (to make a long story short) an Ivory dishsoap enema with a turkey baster, us lying down spreadeagled on the floor on a bunch of towels and told to lie still, don’t squirm, and don’t let it out….she *said* she was trying to make the fever go down….but we know now, figured out in the last few days…she had enough medical training to know she was dealing with a severely dehydrated child and likely could *kill* us doing this…and we know that’s what she wanted….the father came home and found our fever worse and us delirious and rushed us to the hospital..more of the same only this time on cold steel tables….and she held down the arms until they sent her out…we think she enjoyed watching them torture us (yes the adult mind knows they were trying to help but it was just more of the same to us)….she had made us have that enema because we bit the thermometer in half then a second one and cus we climbed up to get the second thermometer and weren’t supposed to do that….so if she could do that trying to kill us (and make it look like the sickness just did it; we’re sure she would have lied about the enema) why not punish us with anal rape? But still it’s hard to accept….then we remembered that a couple of months ago she revealed a lie to us that she’d kept alive for 27 years…she’d told us as a child that we bled from the rectum because we had been born with a prolapsed rectum and sometimes going to the bathroom would tear the scar. Two months ago we mentioned something about that in front of her and Gram and the stepshit. She categorically denied that any such surgery had taken place. So…she lied….and we were still bleeding…which means it really happened..but we were *9* when she told us about that nonexistent surgery! HOW MANY TIMES DID SHE DO THAT TO Goddess it hurts….we think we’re talking too much talking about this but it’s like an addiction and we find we can’t shut up even though we really should. I want to fold into myself and disappear….the memory is always there even when we’re wide awake and doing something else…it replays like an endless video loop behind the eyes and doesn’t stop….someone inside is always shaking…someone else is constantly curled up in a corner so her butt is hidden and *keens* like a wounded rabbit (it’s an *awful* sound at it won’t stop!!!)…nothing makes sense and everything too awfully fits the pattern….i just don’t know what to do now….this completely ruins everything but at the same time it has to be real, we have to accept it and move through it and start to heal from it but HOW???? Oh we want to kill her ravish her with a tentpole *anything*…burn her house down with her in it….but no, see, that would be murder even though to me she is a nonperson….and even that’s not true and the t-pist is right we can’t separate her from us! She anally *raped* us and we can’t get her out of our life!!! How sick is that? How sick is it that the memory doesn’t stop, the screaming doesn’t stop? WE CAN’T MAKE IT STOP…. Somebody please *help*….. maire
Response:
Had to respond, going below spoiler… Splatted for keywords
Cause this is about something truly painful and frankly it scares the crap out of me..i’m sure it would trigger someone….. * * * * * * * Down down down i wonder how far i’ve fallen must be somewhere near the center of the earth.. i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth?? HOw funny it will be to come out where people all walk with their heads downward…. * * * Oh Maire, sending empathetic compassion to you. I am in the process of going through the same thing. For years we *knew* that the father was the main p*rp, that the mother was a *victim* too and only drank to forget about his abuse. We couldn’t (esp. the lils) bear the thought of two bad p*r*nts, so we buried, blocked and used any means necessary to hide any memories of her abuse. And we were doing a pretty good job until M*ther’s D*y this year. Then we started to have the dreams, the body memories, the desperate reflex to refuse to believe the truth we felt. She caught us scratching *down there* once when we were four and got very angry, insisting that she investigate. (In retrospect, we know that we had constant y*ast inf*ctions from age two on.) She scowled and yelled and called us dirty, digging at is with a needle while we lay spread eagle on the bathroom floor. Eventually, she completely p*erc*d our c*lt*r*s and tore us. This happened more than once, saying she had to "dig out all the dirt." Only *I* can handle that we KNOW she was sick, crazy and torturously *bus*ve toward us. Most of the rest (24 and counting), cannot connect to the idea that she would do that, that she was different from us. The internal p*rps are simply bolstered in the belief that all women are sl*ts who deserve what they get. I try to deal with things as they come along; right now, I’m trying to help one of our better adjusted alters deal with all of the memories and sensations that they don’t understand. Sometimes the pictures won’t go away; sometimes we have body memories with shooting pains that will drop us where we stand. Luckily, I feel no physical pain. I was *born* long after this. But none of the rest can disconnect like I can. I understand the panic you know is a memory but remains all too real. The rage that the p*rps are STILL hurting you, left their mark for all to see. <Goddess it hurts….we think we’re talking too much talking about this but <it’s like an addiction and we find we can’t shut up even though we really <should. Every other thought we have echoes yours. I believe that it is our silence reflex kicking in — the most basic tool for survival we had doing its job. I try to contact this energy within us (we cannot identify/name it yet) and gently urge it to help in other ways. In our system, its very important that everyone feels heard and useful; otherwise, our retributive reflex kicks in, and that can be very nasty. Some want to punish us for even thinking such a thing about the m*ther; some keep chanting that we’re going to go to h*ll for it; some think that it’s our own, sick l*sb*an o*d*p*l fant*sy kicking in (Many of us are gay/bi). And I try to tell them that these responses are all programs they put in our head to facilitate the abuse. The parents had us (and the rest of the f*m*ly) convinced that we were crazy at a very early age. No one ever believe our "stories." Sometimes fighting their souvenirs is more difficult than dealing with the vivid, PTSD stuff. <How sick is that? How sick is it that the memory doesn’t stop, the <screaming doesn’t stop? As sick as the p*rp that put it there. I know this will sound like therp prattle, but you didn’t do any of this. It’s not your sickness; it’s hers that has lurked dormant for many years only to emerge when your Higher Self(s) and the G*ddess knew you were ready. At least, that’s what I try to hang on to when the screaming gets so loud that I think we will turn inside out. I don’t know if we have helped any, but we definitely have been there. Peace and understanding, Liz of Continuum X "Silence Destroys"
Response:
I wish you weren’t having such a hard time, that you dont deserve to get hurt, and I think you are brave and aware to write about this, and yeah I think you are real and I think that the abuse that happened to you is real and not allegorical.
Thank you for saying this…it means alot to hear it from many people…it helps us think i’m real, this is real, it’s all *real*…even though we don’t want it to be real… – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – this post is intermediately graphic and deal with hard ugly topics. An attempt has been made to splat for keyword reasons. * * * * * * * Down down down i wonder how far i’ve fallen must be somewhere near the center of the earth.. i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth?? HOw funny it will be to come out where people all walk with their heads downward…. I do not think it was an allegorical nightmare. I also dont think it was s*xual…what she was doing. The way you have described yr
neither do i/we… "mother" s actions it sounds, it sounds like punishment motive not like m*lest motive. Small comfort, tiny distinction. I think I
that’s what we’ve come to think, no matter what the physical response might have been…right now i’m having to deal with a completely unfamiliar emotion for me…shame…. to m*tilate their g*nitals, as being more into destroying what is vulnerable, what is personal, what is alive about their kids.
we were so like the mother and the mother hated herself, so she hated us…. When you told me this story of your mom does this thing to your anus, this very unfreindly thing, she said " you asked for it." Well, what does that mean? Does it mean you asked for it? " Hey ma, my anus isn’t in enough pain today." What she said means to me is " I want
*laughter with pain* Right. But we *did* do something to set her off… But your m*m is insane. She cant tell the difference between her thoughts and other peoples. And she has some nasty mean bitter
Actually, she’s not; she’s sadistic, cold, and calculating, but she’s also completely sane. On some level she knew *exactly* what she was doing, so clearly that she had to block it all out and to this day is still trying to deny it all. Be very scared. She’s a mental health counseller. *snort* *sigh* What scares me is how good she is at her job… thoughts. She wanted you to be what she hated so she could hate you. She told you you were what she hated because shes living in her own we already are what she hates. she told us that enough for me to know. stop to wonder if they are crazy. She told you her crazy reason " You did something wrong."
We did once. Not quite as you put it; we have acute pain in the left ear almost all the time because of ‘repeat blunt skull trauma’ when a kid…we asked her (out of curiosity) where she might think we’d have gotten blunt skull trauma..she pointed out how we were clumsy and fell down the stairs (revisionist history is amazing; she *threw* us down those stairs), how we picked fights at school and were always covered in bruises (*bitter laugh* we did our level best to avoid attention, not get more of it! those bruises came from her….), and how we got into a bike accident at the age of nine (we didn’t know how to ride a bike until we were 13!). so. It’s *always* our fault. Y’know, as a side note here, I really hate that ppl think that multiples are crazy. No. We are not crazy. We are the products of crazy, not the originators. We are the sanest possible response.
*sigh* Would that this were not the truth, at times….but it is in fact truth. Right now i think i needed ot hear you say that. Thanks, NOJ…. Maire &co
Response:
posted/mailed sorry it hurts so much, but the screams are so loud because they are finally finding voice. maybe this means that the whole system is ready to see the truth. maybe this means that the system is finally ready to
guess so. *sigh* lots of alters that never felt any pain are feeling it….lots of alters are reacting and reliving along with me and the others who seem to be bearing the brunt of this… what a great chaos… but this hurt will not go on forever unless you stuff it back to oblivion. I wish we could heal without the hurt.
Us too. never hurt this much. feels like being ripped into tiny little pieces and never stops hurting… Maire who thanks you for responding…
Response:
Thanks puzzles…it helped…. Maire
Response:
liz my mother did smae thing to me as yours did,and she taught me to take care of my babys [clean them] like that too,i pray that i didnt,i dont remember,but i do remember standing at the changing table with her instructing me c – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Had to respond, going below spoiler… Splatted for keywords Cause this is about something truly painful and frankly it scares the crap out of me..i’m sure it would trigger someone….. * * * * * * * Down down down i wonder how far i’ve fallen must be somewhere near the center of the earth.. i wonder if i shall fall right through the earth?? HOw funny it will be to come out where people all walk with their heads downward…. * * * Oh Maire, sending empathetic compassion to you. I am in the process of going through the same thing. For years we *knew* that the father was the main p*rp, that the mother was a *victim* too and only drank to forget about his abuse. We couldn’t (esp. the lils) bear the thought of two bad p*r*nts, so we buried, blocked and used any means necessary to hide any memories of her abuse. And we were doing a pretty good job until M*ther’s D*y this year. Then we started to have the dreams, the body memories, the desperate reflex to refuse to believe the truth we felt. She caught us scratching *down there* once when we were four and got very angry, insisting that she investigate. (In retrospect, we know that we had constant y*ast inf*ctions from age two on.) She scowled and yelled and called us dirty, digging at is with a needle while we lay spread eagle on the bathroom floor. Eventually, she completely p*erc*d our c*lt*r*s and tore us. This happened more than once, saying she had to "dig out all the dirt." Only *I* can handle that we KNOW she was sick, crazy and torturously *bus*ve toward us. Most of the rest (24 and counting), cannot connect to the idea that she would do that, that she was different from us. The internal p*rps are simply bolstered in the belief that all women are sl*ts who deserve what they get. I try to deal with things as they come along; right now, I’m trying to help one of our better adjusted alters deal with all of the memories and sensations that they don’t understand. Sometimes the pictures won’t go away; sometimes we have body memories with shooting pains that will drop us where we stand. Luckily, I feel no physical pain. I was *born* long after this. But none of the rest can disconnect like I can. I understand the panic you know is a memory but remains all too real. The rage that the p*rps are STILL hurting you, left their mark for all to see. <Goddess it hurts….we think we’re talking too much talking about this but <it’s like an addiction and we find we can’t shut up even though we really <should. Every other thought we have echoes yours. I believe that it is our silence reflex kicking in — the most basic tool for survival we had doing its job. I try to contact this energy within us (we cannot identify/name it yet) and gently urge it to help in other ways. In our system, its very important that everyone feels heard and useful; otherwise, our retributive reflex kicks in, and that can be very nasty. Some want to punish us for even thinking such a thing about the m*ther; some keep chanting that we’re going to go to h*ll for it; some think that it’s our own, sick l*sb*an o*d*p*l fant*sy kicking in (Many of us are gay/bi). And I try to tell them that these responses are all programs they put in our head to facilitate the abuse. The parents had us (and the rest of the f*m*ly) convinced that we were crazy at a very early age. No one ever believe our "stories." Sometimes fighting their souvenirs is more difficult than dealing with the vivid, PTSD stuff. <How sick is that? How sick is it that the memory doesn’t stop, the <screaming doesn’t stop? As sick as the p*rp that put it there. I know this will sound like therp prattle, but you didn’t do any of this. It’s not your sickness; it’s hers that has lurked dormant for many years only to emerge when your Higher Self(s) and the G*ddess knew you were ready. At least, that’s what I try to hang on to when the screaming gets so loud that I think we will turn inside out. I don’t know if we have helped any, but we definitely have been there. Peace and understanding, Liz of Continuum X "Silence Destroys"
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