Daily Archive for August 30th, 2007

Rivers Edge – Dream Therapy

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

Rivers Edge

Mother and I went to a rivers edge where we sat low behind a rock watching my childhood. The river ran right through a dessert. A man came up and asked if she would like to cross the razor rock filled river with her two infant children. The mother followed perhaps 100 people into the water. They flowed with the current down and around huge rock masses until reaching the shore. While on shore a man came up the leader who happened to be wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. He asked him what we were doing out in the middle of no where. He said, “We’re looking for turquoise.” The man questioning said, “Out here? We’ll be robbed and murdered.” He pointed to the women and children who had risked their lives crossing the river. He couldn’t believe he crossed the river trusting that they would go some place safe where they could raise their children only to find out they were digging for turquoise. The man instructed the group (who still didn’t know about the turquoise agenda) to start moving across the dessert. The dream panned to a young boy dressed in Tarzan type attire watching 4 Indian men look at the wanderers. He prepared his slingshot as if to shoot a stone their way. Thinking better of it he caught up with the group but didn’t mention he’d seen Indian warriors. The dream then panned back to the warriors who turned their horses towards the wanderers and began attacking. By this time the wanderers were being escorted by armed forces. The four Indians attacked with super long arrows with large white heads measuring about 5 inches at the widest point. I saw one arrow go into the back of an armed guard carrying a flag. I woke up.

We talk

Speaking of the check book, of managing the house and other things the foster mother said to the foster father, “Whose fault is this?” she said this as she moved into an elevator that finds itself in my dreams quite often. I said, “That’s the problem with us, we analyze everything, try and find out whose fault it is but we don’t change anything.” She said “What?” The elevator doors closed just before I could step in to answer her. While closing I noticed it was filled beyond capacity with people holding black plastic bags full of whatever. I caught the next elevator and went to class. Sitting in class was too stressful thinking about this argument so I got up and left. As I rounded the corner the foster mother came out of her classroom. “Don’t you work?” I said. She wanted to know more about my comment. I told her, all we do is talk but we don’t change anything. We ask who’s responsible for the good and the bad, we get information yet that information is useless. She told me things would change if I were respectful. I told her I was respectful. I don’t hit you, spit at you, name call or threaten you. I talk to you adult to adult and I’ll always do that. You, however, hit, spit, kick and scream at me. Where is the respect in that? You can’t do that to people and tell them you love them too.

Wandered Off

Mother and I went out to get a drink and dance. Had three long island ice teas. Left with mother, both of us fell asleep in the car, Captain Crunch was in the back seat. In the dream I woke up, got out of the car and wandered off up the hill and to the first step of an unknown home we were parked in front of. Before I hit the first step I realized I’d wandered off and went back to the car. Cap’s ears were alert as he watched me come back to the car.

Joan of Arc

The three dreams above are from the morning of August 28th, 2007
Commentary written August 30, 2007-3:19PM

Rivers Edge – Dream Commentary

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

All three of these dreams were in the same evening. I watched my childhood with my mother. She took me to the edge of a river where she showed me that she did everything she could to help me as a child. The reason the river is significant is because of the song my mother use to sing to me called “Go Down Pharaoh.” The river is significant not because of Pharaoh himself but because of Moses and how he was put in the river in a basket for the saving of his life. My mother wanted to show me just how she put herself out and risked her life to make sure I was safe.

What I also find interesting is that despite her telling me she did her best I could see the real goings on. I could see the man tricked everyone, used their motherly instincts to save their children for his own selfish gain. He put them in harms way so he would benefit. The way I see it, the mother did this, put me in harms way for her selfish gain. What I like about that dream, though bloody at times, is that despite my mother telling me she did all she could I saw clearly just how jacked up the situation really was. I saw and heard the truth above her tapes. I like that.

It didn’t escape my notice that in two dreams that night I wandered. I should also mention that my foster mother wasn’t abusive at all. I have no idea why she appeared in this dream with my foster father behaving in such a way.

Joan of Arc
The three dreams above are from the morning of August 28th, 2007
Commentary written August 30, 2007-3:19PM

Tell Me Again- Therapy Assignment Part 1 of 2

Published on August 30, 2007 in Art, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD, Relationships, Segments, Therapy and Therapy Assignments. 0 Comments

“Tell me again, the one about the ape.” Mama piped up and told me, “He’s told you that joke three times already.” “I know but I like it.” I laid my head in his lap and he told me one more time. A purple plaid shirt tucked into dark blue jeans, a young girl looking up from his lap in awe as he sat on the steps in a house referred to as “Your Grandmother’s house.” I both fear him and love him. I’d almost say I was in love with him. “The man ran through the final door.” He concluded, “The ape came through and said, “Tag you’re it.” A six year old little girl in awe of monster-angel laughed as if she’d never heard that joke before.

Tell Me AgainI told my mother I’d name my first child after him. Why such obsession over a cousin? He was addicted to me. My mother, well, she was just a pervert but he was in love with me I thought. He was in love with me and that’s the difference. No, I don’t like what he does but he loves me. I’m going to name my first child after him. It all seems so sick now, so silly to think he could love. I mean, how would he know what love is when not one day alive in that family was he shown anything but how horrible the human race could be to those weaker than themselves? Continue reading ‘Tell Me Again- Therapy Assignment Part 1 of 2′

Tell Me Again- Therapy Assignment Part 2 of 2

Published on August 30, 2007 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD, Relationships, Segments, Soapbox, Therapy and Therapy Assignments. 0 Comments

Never Surrender

He explained to me in detail how he’d kill my mother, my grandmother, my grandfather and all of my aunts. We sat on a city bus and he spoke plainly about using their greatest fears against them. He wouldn’t touch them, he’d scare them to death. My grandfather, who was burned back in ’85 would be locked in his room and while sleeping he’d set off smoke bombs and leave him in there scared to death. He’d leave him in there remembering what it was like to be in flames from the waist down and nearly lose his life from it. Wolf would chain my Aunty P in a dark room and have dogs bark and growl until she died of a heart attack. Aunty S would be raped to death by a stranger. He went on and on and on with detail only a sick mind could come up with.

Our relationship was black and white. It was either good. It was bad. He hurt me. He loved me. He scared me. He told me a story of how to survive in that family. And to this day I remember that conversation on my grandmother’s porch he told me how to survive him and our family. There’s a song called Never Surrender by Corey Hart. He introduced me to music, songs my mother would never allow me to hear. I hung onto those songs. I hung on so tightly they nearly killed me.

In high school when things got even worse with my mother, when she stepped up her sadism I listened to the song Never Surrender on the floor in my bedroom, tucked in a ball, lights out, rocking back and forth. In that dark room filled with mallard ducks and tree plants was a life size juke box which held only Corey Hart LP’s. I had everything he ever put out. I needed to secure this cache so I copied all of the LP’s onto cassette then make a backup copy of them so that if my mother took the juke box or ever found back up number one I still had back up number two in my locker at school. She took absolutely everything but she wasn’t getting the one thing given to me. She wasn’t getting Corey Hart.

I was so obsessed with him that I wore a blue jean jacket with his name on it and a sheriff’s badge like Corey Hart did. The kids at school called me “the sheriff.” I liked that. It was a tin badge I bought at the grocery store and stuck on my jacket and sported everywhere I went.

Times when my mother was at her meanest I’d go in my head and listen to Corey Hart. In my room I’d listen to him on the floor thinking about how I wanted to kill myself. The same song I held onto would be the same song that came so close to being the last one I ever heard.

I find it strange that Wolf would tell me to survive him and my family through music. I have a strange relationship with music anyway. When my mother sang at night that’s when I knew I was safe. When she sang, and boy could she sing, it was a sign that everything was okay. I came to both love and loathe her voice. Music was a sign of safety for just a moment and I both loved it and resented it. So here he was telling me through one song I could survive him and my family. I hung onto that. The words seemed so powerful.

When I hear that song today I immediately turn the radio off. I know not to surrender. I also know as a child surrendering was my only option. It was that or death. I have options now and I don’t need a pop singer to tell me that.

Austin
Tell Me Again- Never Surrender- Therapy Assignment Part 2 of 2
Tell Me Again- Therapy Assignment Part 1 of 2
Lyrics to Never Surrender by Corey Hart
Thursday, August 30, 2007-2:38AM EST
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