Daily Archive for June 30th, 2007

Porcelain Dolls

Published on June 30, 2007 in Borderline Personality Disorder, For the Record, Gratitude Journal and PTSD. 3 Comments

They come dressed in pale blue satin gowns, flowing powder pink with a small floral print and white linen lined with small tea roses along ruffled umbrellas. They’re short or tall, curly hair with ribbons, straight and cut hard, blond, brunette and flaming red. Despite their dress or race, every face is dead pan in my porcelain doll collection and they all connect to my child inside.

My great Aunty O collected dolls. She had a special room for them where they were carefully displayed behind glass cases that reached from the floor to the ceiling. When I traveled to Muncie, Indiana to visit my great-grandmother and great-aunt I went straight to the doll room to see if she had anything new. Her favorite was the authentic Shirley Temple porcelain doll still in the box. It was the first doll you’d see when you walked in the room. Although I loved her dolls I told myself I’d never collect them myself. At times I thought it was creepy to have a room full of child-like figures looking straight forward, not to the left or the right. I thought it was creepy to see them stand perfectly, dressed perfectly, motionless in false perfection. But I was drawn to the room so I visited each time. There was something about those dolls that brought me back and something about them that drove my collection years later.

The first doll in my collection is of a black female cherub with curly hair and a fluffy halo with gold soft wings. Her dress is greenish blue with lace trim. When I saw her my heart melted. I fell in love but I also felt so sad. I felt sad because I knew why I was buying the doll. When I was a kid I wasn’t allowed to play with dolls, especially black dolls. My mother said I was too smart for dolls so they were pretty much off limits. I had a few when I was younger but I felt stupid playing with it because after all, I was way too smart for such childish games.

Twenty dolls into my collection I realized there was more to a rebellious attraction to African-American porcelain dolls. I realized each doll I had was me. She was dressed similar to the way I was as a child. Every doll in my collection had flowing velvet, satin, silk or linen dress, ruffled bloomers, paten leather shoes and of course the hat that brings the entire outfit together. I realized I was collecting moments in time where I may have met approval. Thirty dolls into the collection I introduced other races. It no longer seemed so important to me to only have black dolls. But the style was the same, not too young looking, dressed like I use to dress and perfect. One day I realized just how strong my connection to the dolls is when I noticed one doll was slouching and said to myself, “Sit up straight.” WOW!!! The doll is not me, I had to remind myself. It’s not me then or now.

My thoughts on the dolls had to move from collecting moments where I might have proven acceptable to my mother to realizing they’re just beautiful creations with dresses and curls and umbrellas and cute little shoes. I had to realize that I was still holding on to an idea, onto magical thinking that I could somehow change the past in today. Working on that thought process with the dolls allowed me to enjoy them instead of mourn them. Eighty dolls into my collection I began to look at them with smiles of appreciation.

I can’t believe I have a full room of dolls just like my great Aunty O. About a hundred dolls in I realize this room is going to need cases.

Joan of Arc

Porcelain Dolls-Saturday, June 30, 2007-5:05PM EST

A Night Full of Dreams

Published on June 30, 2007 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dream Therapy, Dreams, Mental Health, PTSD, Segments, Therapy and Therapy Assignments. 0 Comments

Dream One: Grandfather Moves On

I’m sleeping on the pull out bed next to my cousin N at the grandmother’s house. The radio is playing and I’m trying to ignore the fact that my grandfather is seeing a new woman now that my grandmother has passed. The new woman is faceless but I know she’s my mother. She stands over my bed in the shadows, hoping I’m asleep and that I don’t know she’s encouraging my grandfather to come to bed.

While pretending to sleep I think to myself that I should ask her tomorrow if she’s sleeping with my grandfather. But the thought of my grandfather having sex while I’m in the house (even behind closed doors) is just gross. I’m trying to sleep. My grandfather’s getting it on. I don’t want to know. I opt not to ask.

The next morning I’m watching TV while the radio plays in the background. The song “I’m Not Dead” by Pink is on the boom box. The lights are out and I’m focused on a man talking to a shrink about his son’s change in behaviors. He won’t eat. For three days now the son’s behavior has been radically different. He says to the shrink, “Do you know how long he’s been holding my hand when we walk together? Everyday until three days ago.” The boy, who loves hot dogs, won’t eat them anymore. His behavior has changed in many ways and his father is concerned. The shrink he’s talking to is a child, supposedly a genius. He’s writing down all the father says and agrees that something has changed and the changes should be investigated. I turn to my cousin N, who is sitting on the sofa bed that’s still open and say, “Is this the movie The Omen?” She says “Yes.” We turn the channel to MTV.

Dream Two: Searching For More Than A Classroom

I’m late to class which is being held in the mall by the shoe store and bakery. I try to find the classroom but I’m lost. I know the mall like the back of my hand but I’m lost. I stumble upon a Woolworth’s but decide I shouldn’t go in to look at the sales. I should keep looking for the classroom. On my way to look I my cousins shopping with friends. One by one I pass them. At the bakery I see a girl that looks familiar but I don’t stop to try and figure her out. She calls out to me, “You’re not going to say hi?” I chucked and said I wasn’t sure it was her. I told her everyone one of our cousins was at the mall except for N. It must be a good shopping day I say. I keep going. She calls out to me, “Did you see my best friend Billy here?” I told her I wouldn’t know him if he smacked me in the nose. I think to myself that he’s a childhood friend she hasn’t seen in over twenty years yet she still calls him a best friend.

As I take a few steps more I realize it’s snowing inside the building but only on my path. I look down at my feet and notice they’re my mother’s shoes. I walk on the side of the fake plant and rock garden display at the mall while looking at my mother’s shoes. I find the classroom but not before I see my roommate Barney Fife walking with his students hand in hand. He pretends not to see me. I don’t mind. I enter the room and prepare to fail a math test.

Dream Three: Pretend Its Not Happening

City bus ride. I’m in the back ignoring the fire on the second level which happens to be an apartment area where Bella is waiting for me. The second level makes it a double-decker type bus. The apartment was the one I lived in w/ the mother in the early 90’s just before I left home. I’m sitting in the back talking to a girl, hoping the fire will put itself out. She says she smells smoke. I say I’ll go investigate. I ask the lady to stop the bus so I don’t fall as I climb the pole to the upper deck where the apartment is. She stops the bus. I climb up just enough to see that most of the fire is out and very little damage has been done. The radio is still playing “Leave Out All The Rest” Linkin Park. The fire didn’t touch the boom box radio. I climb inside and the bus driver follows. We begin to chit chat while waiting for the fire department. She’s got a 9 millimeter semi-automatic in her back pocket that she keeps for protection. As she and I chat she’s waving it around in sync with her hand gestures. I ask if its real. She says yes. I tell her to put it away. She does. I woke up.

Profile in the dream: Adult current age, healthy, I looked like myself
Old recurrent dream theme: the mall, the apartment from the 90’s,
Feelings upon waking: Tired. I didn’t get much sleep. I dreamed all night.
Feelings now: Still tired. Intrigued by dream number 3.

commentary on dream number three

Austin

Saturday, June 30, 2007-12:30noon EST

COMMENTARY and Dream Three

Published on June 30, 2007 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dream Therapy, Dreams, Mental Health, PTSD, Segments, Therapy and Therapy Assignments. 0 Comments

I wouldn’t consider these nightmares which is why I haven’t re-written them. I think they’re very telling but not on the same level of nightmares where I’m being abused.

I know there’s a fire that could rage out of control and possibly harm everyone on the bus but I hope it will put itself out. I’m watching a flame in the mirror hoping no one else sees that I’ve neglected to warn them of harm. I find that interesting. I’m watching what I know could really get bad but false hope of resolution keeps my mouth glued. Only when someone else smells fire do I jump to attention. (see dream three)

The apartment above the bus is significant in many ways. I’ve been told that dreams with hidden rooms are common with people that have DID. I dream this a lot, about hidden rooms or upper rooms that you have to climb through various tricky spots to enter. Even at the mall in my dreams there’s an upper floor where brass instruments are piled. You have to climb a small stairway and then through a trap door. It’s filled with heavy shadows and speechless shoppers. People move about freely but no one is talking, just shopping as if all is normal. We sift through piles of brass musical instruments, surgical instruments and old kitchenware. Some of it’s good, some of it’s not.

The apartment has come up several times in the last 4 or 5 night’s dreams. I figure the apartment comes up so often because it’s where “I” live as in “in my head.” I’m always caught back in that time period (early 90’s). It was one of the last years my mother hovered in the doorway shadows watching me pretend to sleep.

The amount of small details in the dreams is noteworthy. I could hear the radio playing the song “I’m Not Dead” by Pink an then in the other dream “Leave Out All The Rest” by Linkin Park. My cat was left in the fire alone with no help. Her cage, which she was out of, was made of wood with very few air holes. The blinds on the windows to the apartment were open. Wrinkled up foil littered the counters. The apartment in the dream was small as it was crammed on top of a city bus but it still had cathedral ceilings. I remember wanting to grill a cheese sandwich in the dream but I couldn’t because of the fire.

The words to the Linkin Park song are significant as well but right now I need to stop writing.

 

Austin