My blog is mainly about dissociative identity disorder and healing from the trauma that caused the disorder. However, I’ve written many entries having nothing to do with the disorder because while healing is the primary focus of my life at this time, other things come up. Events, positive, negative and neutral happen in the midst of healing so I blog about them. I’ve touched on everything from the hassles of pairing socks to movie reviews, politics and crafts. I’ve run the gamut because these things have touched my life in some way. One thing that has touched my life but has never been brought up before is the topic of survivors and caregivers of traumatic brain injury.
Little did anyone know the lives of so many would change in an instant.
Continue reading ‘Survivors and Caregivers of Traumatic Brain Injury’
The dream started off with me walking single file with a group of people my age (36) down the dark auditorium of my second grade school. We passed two other single file lines, one of which my brother was in. In the dream he was 15 years old. I didn’t even know him then but in the dream he was 15. He caught sight of me and called me by my birth name. I corrected him which caused an argument. He got in my face and demanded to know why it was so important to change my name. I told him he didn’t require an answer, compliance would do. He didn’t like my answer but I didn’t like how he got up in my face angry and demanding. Some kid beside him asked why he was making such a big deal out of it. That’s when my brother held up a sign written like a child which mocked me. As my line moved out of the dark auditorium he sing song-like called out my birth name.
In the second dream I was also an adult as was my sister. In this dream I had to go to the hospital for some reason. I ended up in the waiting room with a doctor that had really radical mood changes, even his body size and hair colour changed with his moods.
Continue reading ‘Dream Therapy: Needs Not Met’
Significant pieces in the dream:
The age of the brother, being mocked by him, having him singsong my birth name, the grade school we were in, the white guy gardener she turned into, the sister’s possible death on the surgery table.
Of interest:
The flock of mallard ducks raining down poo on our heads.
Commentary:
I like the flock of ducks thing. As a child my room was always decorated with mallards. Of course it’s known they called me Little Duck all my life or just Duckie (with an ie not a y). So it was like a whole flock of me flying over head saying this whole situation was bullshit. Some of it I brought on myself but others I didn’t but it was all bullshit. The mother delaying medical attention for the sister is exactly what happened when she fell and cracked her head on the cement around age 30. She kept telling her not to go to the hospital. When she finally did it was because the pain in her head was so horrible she was in tears. It took weeks before she went to the hospital with the mother’s approval.
Continue reading ‘Dream Therapy: Needs Not Met Commentary’
It is an angry situation for me, more emotional than talking about my mother. The emotions are mixed, twisted and overwhelming so I don’t address it much. How can it be “easier” to talk about what the mother did as opposed to what the sister didn’t do? Somehow of all the losses it is the loss of her which seems the greatest. When I left that house I gained freedom but I left a sister I both love and hate.
I think what hurts the most is to have done everything in my power to make that girl like me yet she couldn’t. And I wonder had she shown a little bit of backbone would the mother have focused on me so much? If she thought there was a challenge in beating the sister into submission (which there was not) then would she have focused on me so much? I told Dr. D I realized that was horrible to say.
Continue reading ‘Adult Siblings of Abuse’
Barney wasn’t home. Captain and I putzed around the house doing nothing at all when someone rang the bell. The back door was open and a lab stood in the doorway but no people were with him. I called down the stairs to the doorway for them to come in but got no answer. I called again with the same result. Finally I moved the dog gate to go down and see if they’d traveled to the front door and couldn’t hear me tell them to come in. I passed the dog who didn’t seem too concerned to come in. She just stood there. Cap didn’t attempt to come down to play with her. As a matter of fact after that Captain doesn’t appear in the dream at all. So I passed the dog. As I got to the living room and before I could reach the door I noticed a group of people sitting in the dining room. All the lights were out except for the one in the dining room around the table. One man stood while 6 others occupied the chairs. He talked to them, seemed to be the one leading them. It appeared he may be the police.
Continue reading ‘Dream Therapy: Died In My Dream’
These same dogs were after him last week. The po po came and gave the same little fine and asked Mr. Duck if he wanted to get patched up. Upon arrival to the hospital those trained to deal with such traumas were put off by his elongated misshaped beak which had been used in a tug of war between the dogs. They refused to patch the duck up citing their own personal inability to deal with said ugly duckling. With the newest incident from the same band of bad puppies and the same silly puddy look to his beak he refused medical treatment. There was no way he would give them the satisfaction of turning him down again. So off he waddles, hurt and bleeding but pride in tact. Poor little duck.
Control those rats, bats and babies. Get them out of your chimney caps.
Dude, you’re killing me here!
These headlines are from here.
Dear Dr. D
Although I find your boyish-like ways charming there are a few things we need to address. I’m okay with how your left shoe is always untied but the hole in your sock on Monday was over the top. I’m okay with the stubble you’ve clearly not bothered to shave and the fact that you walk into my session still chewing the last bit of your lunch. These things make you human to me. I’m able to see you as anyone else. These flaws of yours actually help but yesterday when you failed to wash your hands after lunch I was just grossed out. Orange finger tips from your cheese puffs in addition to the hole in the sock of your untied shoe really made the session difficult for me to concentrate. Please do not make me call your mother and tell her the little boy she raised never grew up and might need help again with the basics. Please do not make me bring in baby wipes. I’ll do it.
Continue reading ‘A Little Boy’s Charm’
I Don’t Believe You
I talked to a friend on the phone about a conversation I had with another person. The first friend said that she gave me some paints but I told her she didn’t. That I’d remember if someone gave me a gift of oil paints. I’d still have them, especially if they gave them to me when I first moved into this house. The friend insisted she gave them to me. I told her she didn’t. That part really happened and I was discussing it with the friend on the phone in the dream. The friend in the dream said she thought I really had them and that I lied about it. I asked her why I’d lie about such a thing. She said because I stole them. I told her I didn’t. She said she didn’t believe me. She said maybe one of my alters took it. I told her we don’t steal. She said maybe I didn’t know the alter took it.
Continue reading ‘Dreams of Doubt and Rejection’
Commentary
When I woke up my immediate reaction was to go ask Barney if I give him too little gas money and if he feels used by me. Then it hit me, I know him well enough to know he does not feel that way about me. He does not feel used by me. I didn’t go running out there to ask him anything. I also know the friend in the dream well enough to understand she wouldn’t call me a liar and a thief. I think the thing with Barney is that in recent month’s he’s put himself in such a fatherly position. He’s been beyond kind and thoughtful, he’s also been really clean in the kitchen. This sometimes worries me. It makes me wonder when he’ll ask for sex.
Continue reading ‘Commentary on Doubt and Rejection Dream’
The tag line that goes with this piece called The Brighter Side is: With a little more sun and a few more flowers she may just very well follow her path to the brighter side.
One of the things I like so much about art therapy is that I can take a memory that’s not pleasant and make it into something else. When I re-write my dreams to come out as the victor instead of the victim it gives me a bit of power over them. When I paint the scribbles I do in my art journal I go from a piece that makes me sad to a brand new, separate nice feeling image. It helps a lot to see this little girl go from what she was to where she is now. For me this little one in “The Brighter Side” looks more like a little girl with a cold, maybe she’s down or something and trudging her little path but I don’t look at her with sadness. I look at her and go, awwww in a cute kinda way.
I may not be able to change all of my memories or art therapy pieces into an “awww” type painting but I can some of them. This is a good thing.
Continue reading ‘Art Therapy - Changing Memories’
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