I jokingly said that I hoped a friend of mine survived Christmas because she’s had some major stuff pop up during the last few holidays. She had the water heater go out, the next major holiday the stove went out. Christmas Eve her oldest brother died. I was shocked when I got the call….absolutely shocked. What shocks me more is the amount of pressure on her to keep her family together, to console a widow, brothers and sisters, write a eulogy and attend a funeral. It’s crazy the amount of pressure on her to keep her family moving. They’re a large family, all well employed, all successful as the world defines it but only one person keeps that family running. They depend on her for everything and she serves them unwaveringly. I wonder if anyone in the family has asked her how she’s doing or told her how sorry they are for her loss? I wonder if they all just lean on her for support, for meals, for laundry, for everything and look over the fact that she herself is one person caring for a multitude? It is amazing how people forget her needs. Someone else may buy the bread but it is her that puts the butter on it and it’s her that warms it and sets it on the table and makes sure it goes down just right. How one can be taken for granted at that level is simply mind blowing.
Tag Archive for 'family'Page 2 of 2
In therapy today we talked family and children and the ideal parents have of how their children’s lives will turn out. She talked about how her grandchildren would do this and that. She had the typical ideal for her children but that got interrupted when I went down my own path. Even when I had foster children I didn’t allow them contact w/ her. Even w/ foster children she didn’t get what she called “make believe grandchildren.” With focus on family and tradition right now, it being the holiday season, it’s no wonder the subject of family is on my mind.
Some of the family ideals were of my own doing. I mean heck, even though she taunted me about liking boys, made fun of me, the idea of marriage always appealed to me. I thought of it as another form of service. I was good at service. I’d be good as a wife I figured. I figured it would be perfect. We’d have the perfect house, the perfect children. I’d be the perfect wife and we’d all be…well, perfect. I loved the idea of keeping a home and raising children but I hardly ever spoke of it. On one hand she made fun of me for liking boys, on the other hand she said never to marry and then other times it was all she talked about, grandchildren and family w/ her at the helm. She’d build a house for me and my husband but she’d have mother-in-law quarters. She’d be right there w/ me to raise the children. Whatever! I still thought about marriage but there was no way on earth she’d be part of my household.
All of this makes me wonder if anyone can ever be prepared to let go of hopes they have for their child or if anyone can ever really come to peace with the fact that the ideals their family had and they themselves had won’t really come to pass now that they’re not in the closet? Can that really be something people accept, that what they want for their kids on a personal level won’t happen as they planned it? The picture won’t be as perfect as they imagined.
I understand why people make such a big deal about coming out. I understand why it’s on their mind front and center. There is pressure to conform in so many ways, but most of all cultural conformity, falling in line with what the rest of society wants for you holds pressure many yield to. That’s why we marry, why we settle down and have a family only years later to go, I can’t do this anymore. Then the family we started is hurt, our friends and our birth family are stunned, disappointed, angry because we lied to them all those years. Why wouldn’t we? Telling the truth means letting down so many people. It’s not that I’m in favor of staring a family w/ the opposite sex when you know full well you’re gay. I’m just saying I understand why it’s done. I understand not wanting to have to come out and go, “Um, remember all the plans you had for me as a child? Remember all the jokes you made about my kids treating me how I treated you, all the payback comments and things like that? Well, forget it cause I won’t be having any kids naturally.” Or, “I’m an only child and you wanted the bloodline to continue but unless we go surrogate that’s not going to happen. Sorry to disappoint you mom and dad, sorry to embarrass you before the church and your friends but all the plans you had for me are going to pot cause I’ve chosen to not go down the path you laid for me.”
When you tell someone you’re gay you also have to contend w/ what happens at parties and get togethers. Is someone going to feel uncomfortable changing in front of you now? Will there be jokes about the need to change in separate rooms? Will your girlfriend’s no longer want to have little get togethers with you? Will there be jokes made as they try to come to grips with how you’ve suddenly decided to not lie about your preferences? It happens. It happened to me. I wonder how many other people experienced this? Sometimes the jokes are to help ease their own transition but it doesn’t mean the jokes don’t sting. Sometimes the jokes are to say, “I’m okay with your decision to come out” but it doesn’t mean the jokes don’t sting. Understanding doesn’t make my discomfort level decrease.
There is more to being gay than being attracted to the same sex. You have to deal with dashing hopes and ideals and you have to somehow accept that you can’t live up to their ideals anymore. This is why coming out is such a big deal and why so many people take so long to do it. Ideals, family, culture, disappointment in self and disappointing others, I struggle with that. I’ve yet to make peace with it. It’s a little bit hard to find it when all I see of families on TV are the husband, wife, child and little puppy dog. That’s the family picture I see on TV. That’s what is widely accepted as family.
Now I’m going to go a little off topic and discuss how it as that people say they don’t care if I’m gay as long as I don’t toss it in their face. On a daily basis heterosexuality is shoved in my face. I doubt it would matter if said I don’t care if you’re heterosexual as long as you don’t toss it in my face. I can’t get away from it. Your songs, your movies, your commercials, your billboard advertisements shove it in my face every second of every day. Hell, your laws are even written to protect you, they don’t but they’re written for heterosexual couples. Try going to the police w/ a matter of domestic violence with same sex couples and be taken seriously. Try having a union and get medical insurance to cover you and your loved ones. Have your partner die and be told you don’t get anything at all because you’re not legally seen as his or her wife/husband. I may keep my homosexuality out of your face but every single part of my day involves dealing on some level w/ heterosexually biased materials and laws. I may keep it out of your face but you sure as heck don’t know how to keep it out of mine. And people wonder why coming out is so hard.
That’s all I got to say about that.
Oh, wait, there is one more thing. I finally got the nerve up to ask the cab driver to take a different route so we don’t pass Blossom’s house twice a week. That was getting kind of old. It makes missing her and staying away from her even harder when I pass her house twice a week.
J of A
At Wally World the other day it didn’t register WHY a man stood beside the door ringing a bell. I only noticed he danced around with his headphones on. I wondered what was on his ipod but other than that I didn’t think about the fact that he stood there because it’s the holiday season. He wanted donations for the United Way. I got that but still, I wasn’t thinking along the lines of the holidays. I don’t celebrate them so I suppose I see things differently. I have to remember that even if I don’t think in those terms many others do. I have to try and remind myself (via email notification) that many of my friends will be kind of busy with family and friends. I wouldn’t want to call on Wednesday or Thursday expecting a friendly chat only to find that I’ve interrupted their celebration.
Can someone really totally and completely forget the holiday right up until the day of or even past it? Think about this for a minute, say you’re driving a car. You get in, you put the keys in the ignition, you look both ways and you pull off. That’s what drivers do. But suppose you don’t drive. What do you do? You immediately walk around to the passenger’s side door. You don’t go for the driver’s seat at all. It’s unnatural to do so. You’ve never done it before. You go for the seat you know, the seat you’ve always taken. You might be wondering, but with that darned holiday music and the trees all over, commercials about the perfect gift you can’t possibly be that dulled to the holiday season. People that don’t drive see cars everyday. They see different makes and models. New ones come out at certain times. They may even appreciate one make and model over another but it doesn’t mean they’re in the same mind set as a driver. Toyota advertises it’s big sale. Honda tries to out sell Toyota. The advertisements are everywhere. But still, if you’ve never driven are you really paying that much attention to car advertisements? Advertisements or no, if you don’t drive you all but block out information about driving if it doesn’t pertain to you on a personal level. They come every year with the coloured eggs, fright masks and holly but since that information doesn’t pertain to me I do what comes naturally, I go for the passengers side door. It’s normal for me.
This brings me to feeling down or blue on holidays. Since I don’t celebrate them then it’s just another day for me. I have no real mood change due to holidays. I get up, I take my shower, I drink my coffee, I start my day. It’s routine. Holidays for me are the same as Toyota sales. I’m no happier the days leading up to the sale, the day of the sale nor the day after. I’m not “a driver” so my mind all but blocks out that information. My brain looks for information it can compute. I go for the passenger side.
Since I was a kid the holidays have snuck up on my family. There’s a standing joke that there’s an R & S Holiday Mistake. (The R is her maiden name and the S was her married name.) It’s no secret that my mother’s cooking could be counted as abuse. Since she didn’t want to eat her own coking we ate out a lot. When we ate out we ate well. No fast food, no happy meals or Red Lobster type stuff. We ate well UNLESS it was Christmas or Thanksgiving or Easter. Our regular spots were closed so our options were limited. To Denny’s we went. Since she forgot to go to the store (she was riding not driving) we ended up with no food in the house and nothing to eat every single solitary holiday growing up it was like that. So, every single solitary holiday we ended up at Denny’s. It became tradition for us. She’d swear she would remember next year but nope, she forgot and so did my sister and brother. It snuck up on us so there we were at Denny’s every holiday, every year. I have to wonder sometimes if she loathed the thought of having to cook some horrible meal she’d have to eat so that’s why she forgot to go to the store. Either way, we laughed at the dinner table at the worst restraint in the city. Ah, I hated that place. The food isn’t that great, the booths were sticky and back then they weren’t really that friendly to person of the darker persuasion. However, somehow we made that day laughable and fun. It was like any other meal though. There was no special thanks given, no special food to commemorate the day. It was another meal for us, another car ride we were not emotionally attached to. So, please don’t think this was our holiday meal. We ate and we went home and did what we always did.
I look back on that and laugh because it was like dang it we were suppose to remember. But we never did. I don’t think of that time as a bad time. I remember it fondly. To start calling it the R & S Holiday Mistake was just too funny. Many times there wasn’t a can of green beans in the house. The woman knew she couldn’t cook so why even try? That was quite the blessing, her taking us out instead of forcing us to eat her culinary disasters. I have a feeling one of the main reasons I cook every meal (if at all possible) is because I ate out so much as a child. I managed to break the tradition because of my love for cooking at home so this year and last year and the year before I did get into the passengers seat, so to speak, but I had a safety belt. I had food in the cupboard. No Denny’s for this girl. I’ll have something homemade, something warm and inviting just like yesterday and just like today, warm and inviting. Then on Tuesday I’ll get an email reminding me that Wednesday and Thursday I need to make room for other traffic.
Austin’s August
Tradition- Random Memory Friday
Friday, November 16, 2007-11:18PM EST
It makes me sad. Sometimes I resent the whole I’m going to therapy thing especially when the cousin comes up. We talked about the cousin and about the lack of male influence growing up, about the vast majority of women in my family hating men but being closet lesbians. There were 2 boys in my life growing up, my older male cousin aka the wolf and my younger brother. Wow, I just smiled when I wrote “my younger brother.” We steered the conversation away from him and ended up talking about Robert and how he identifies with two abusers. We talked about how my adult male cousin is the only person in the family to pay for his crimes. I wonder if he had grown up differently if he would have hurt his girls? Even still we all have a choice. We have a choice to hit or not hit, to harm or not harm. People can get help. There is no excuse for abuse, none at all. People have a choice not to hurt. We talked about the mother choosing to hurt her children, choosing to not get help. That hurts so much, to know not only did she choose to hurt us she enjoyed it. That makes me angry.
We talked about me holding the baby on Monday and how it felt to do so. I didn’t freak out when she handed her to me. I didn’t run or try and sanitize the baby. No OCD issues at all as a matter of fact. He asked how it felt. I told him I like kids. He noticed the glow when I mentioned my foster boys. He asked how it was that I was able to be a good mother when I was never shown how to be one. For me motherhood came naturally plus I could relate to the boys and their fears.
We talked about how abuse gets passed down from one generation to another. I understand that. I’ve said it before, there are 6 generations of abuse in my family. I’ve heard stories from 5 of them because 5 generations were alive at one time.
I know my mother saw herself in me and I understand that. I understand the idea that a mother can look at her child and see the child they use to be. I understand looking at her and thinking you hate her because you see yourself, the weak, hurt, scared little knock kneed kid you were. I look in the mirror and detest the reflection of the scared child I use to be. But still, stand back and take a good hard look. She’s not you. I wasn’t her and I deserved a chance to not feel like she did. Because I do know how she felt it’s her fault, not the fault of the person that abused her. This is on her, it was her hand that hurt me and her apathy that allowed others to hurt me because she didn’t see me (herself) as worthy of protection. But you gotta draw a line between you and your child somewhere. Why, cause it’s right to do so, because it means her future health to draw that line.
Think about this, why on earth would you put her through what you went through? You can’t destroy yourself or your past through another person especially a child. Making the choice to do no harm and figuring out a way to follow through on this goal is vital for yourself and for generations to come. Do not pass this down! If you wouldn’t consciously pass down AIDS or ovarian cancer, breast cancer or any other deadly disease why would you be willing to pass down abuse? It is unnatural to hit and abuse, it is natural to love but sometimes anger from the past snuffs out our will to let love abound. Please, for the love of God do not pass this down!
Austin’s August
Will You Choose To Pass This Down?
Wednesday, November 14, 2007-6:31PM EST
I wonder if one reason siblings of abuse struggle with one another in adulthood is because they witnessed each other being abused. They witness each others reactions. As adults we struggle with our own reactions or lack of reaction. It’s even harder to look someone in the eye who saw you hurt so badly. Heck, do prisoners of war hang with each other, hang with people that saw them scream and beg? It’s humiliating to know someone saw how humiliated you were. I wonder if this is one reason why siblings of abuse struggle to have a relationship in adulthood.
I watched my sister jump up and down screaming, crying, mouth open feeling every bit of pain my mother offered. That image is haunting and I wasn’t the one feeling the pain of it. How hard it must be for my sister to look me in the eye knowing I know. What I struggle with is anger at her for laying down and taking it. Heck, I laid down and took it. I didn’t leave home until I was twenty. I was still being abused at twenty. How humiliating is that? I think part of my anger at her is anger with myself that I couldn’t help her. Anger at myself that sometimes I was relieved that it was her and not me and now she’s screaming and begging instead of me and I found that sickeningly comforting.
I blog openly to strangers with no invite to family and 3-D friends. One neighbor knows I blog. She’s been here a few times as well as her brother in Philly. I think my brother has been here a few times but I don’t think my mother has. If my mom reads my blog or any other family member, aunts, father, cousins, sister, etc then so be it but I sure as heck won’t send an invite. I talk about UK and Holiday, about Lady and Blossom but they don’t have the URL to my blog, very few of my 3-D friends or associates have my URL.
It’s one thing for them to have access to the blog; it’s a different thing to give them that access. They can find it on the net if they want but I’m not going to hand over my URL.
It’s stressful blogging with strangers reading because someone will find offense with how an entry is written. Readers seem to not realize there’s only so much you can cram into one entry. You can’t cover every single detail and cover all your bases. It’s a journal entry, not a thesis but try and get some readers to understand that. Sheshhhh! Readers will question, doubt, even name call or leave troll comments and act an ass as if that’s all their life means to them, bothering bloggers they don’t even know. There’s blogger etiquette and blogger politics to think about. Do you spell well enough, do you use the word “literally” correctly? Will your blog entry show up on a joke site if you don’t? Worrying about who will do what with an entry and who will say what about your entry can slow down the smooth flow of writing. It seems some idiot out there is just waiting for you to contradict yourself so they can call you a liar and prove your whole blog is a sham. Boy, strangers can lay pressure on thick but family brings with them a whole different range of spoken and unspoken expectations.
Here are a few examples of touchy situations with family and blogs:
(other art therapy pieces can be found here.)
Christine Lawson, in her book, Understanding The Borderline Mother, says:
“Emotionally stable parents share their children’s joy and quiet their fear. But caretaking roles are reversed for children of borderlines whose mothers are chronically upset. Children repress their fear in order to calm their mother. Situations that should frighten children may not because they have learned not to feel. A dramatic (an hopefully rare) example occurs when cildren rescue the borderline mother from suicide attempts.” p.23 (cited from Markham’s Behavioral Health)
I said I don’t feel fear but I take that statement back. I feel fear I just express it covertly. I didn’t want to be like my sister who I always saw as weak. She jumped up and down, stomped her feat and screamed in pain. I thought she was weak for showing it but now I think maybe it got her less trouble than my lack of response.
As others greet you smiling
You look so pale, breath stalled and eyes to the floor.
Friends speak in a gentle tone hiding bitter memories
Pretending not to recall what you put your children through
Turning a blind eye to history, of wars you waged and swords you drew.
But they know.
They keep talking, keep smiling, but they know.
They know and you know
Your secret’s not safe with me.
The secrets will never be laid to rest.
I will scream about the cold, about the fear and pain.
I will show them the scares on my legs also the people behind my eyes
Allow them to witness me quiver,
Watch me shake when they say your name.
And tell them ever loudly I am not to blame.
At the grocery store, in theater halls with opera singers and ballerinas
In your brand new automobile on the way to a dream vacation your eyes will avert
Cloud over and fog with concern
Does this man know, does that man understand you refused to control your hands?
Who have I spoken to? Whose attention have I gained?
Who now looks at you with eyes fully grasping your image
The image of a woman capable of killing a child’s soul?
I told the world.
Your secret’s not safe with me.
When the family gathers for Sunday meetings in a house with walls that hold blood six generations thick
When we dance in halls for charity events
Or raise hymns at congregation gatherings
You look so pale, breath stalled and eyes to the floor
Hoping I haven’t spoken the truth
Hoping I kept your secret but I told the world
You look so pale
You look so pale knowing your secret’s not safe with me.
Your Secret
Thursday, March 08, 2007-5:02PM EST
The YouTube video reading of this entry can also be found here.
sexual abuse
Therapy Assignment: I Can’t Get Over It! -Tuesday, June 28th , 2006-11:42 pm
I started reading the book my therapist gave me to read because I figured that I wasn’t getting any better or any worse with this newest bought of depression. I’m happy I started it. This entry might not make any sense to anyone else but these are just some notes for me to come back to. They said to start an I Can’t Get Over It journal but I’m just going to add a category and leave it on this journal.
Intro page 2
Quote:PTSD - A Normal Reaction to an Abnormal Amount of Stress
If you suspect that you suffer from PTSD, do not be alarmed. PTSD is an entirely normal reaction to an abnormal amount of stress. Having PTSD does not mean you are mentally ill, nor does it mean that you are weak or somehow deficient. Think of it this way: no matter how strong your leg bones, if enough force is applied, they will break. Given the proper care, they can also heal. And so can you. End quote.
A normal response to an abnormal situation. Okay, that means that I’m not weak for feeling trapped by the events. It just means that the trauma was severe enough that it will take more than a bit of help to move forward. Hm. Okay.
From the quote I’d say that those who can handle life’s trauma and the symptoms that follow all that person is abnormal. If we are all made of clay then we are all capable of falling off the potters wheel.
I always said that I hated being called strong because when someone says that it usually ends up meaning that the assistance I get is limited. Say there are two people in an equal amount of pain but they both display it differently. You have one person screaming and crying and falling apart and showing outwardly that they are hurt. You have the other person sitting motionless, looking at the floor, staying to himself who will the support run to first? Do I have to scream in agony every time I’m hurting at that level or can I just talk it out and receive the same level of care as those who are have the ability to cry out? I don’t understand why if I say I need help and here is why that it translates to, I’m just venting you know I can handle this on my own AND your problems too. Somehow it translates that way. Yeah, I have a lot of coping skills but I’m just as weak and tired as the next person. I’m just as fallible, just as fearful, just as unsure as the next person. Having an arsenal of coping skills doesn’t mean that I should have to cope alone.
I use to say that I was like everyone else that I have weaknesses, strengths and fears just like every other human being on the face of the earth. I use to say that people expected me to be strong and to be able to handle what I’m going through right now. It angered me because it was like, why would my reaction be any different than the reaction of the next person? I’m made of clay like everyone else so why would friends expect me to react to this ordeal with strength and the ability to shoulder all of this? A friend of mine said that she thinks that her friends and family believe she is strong and able to handle everything. She said when she talks to them about problems they seem to think she’s venting and she doesn’t really need any help, just a place to vent because after all she’s strong, she can handle this.
I’m your average woman, 32, overweight, single living with a dog, a few cats and a bastard roommate. This isn’t an uncommon profile and neither is it uncommon that I’d be an incest survivor or a survivor of rape as an adult. If these things are common and my reaction to them is common (PTSD) then why on earth do people keep seeing me as capable of handling life on my own? Some people don’t outwardly say it but the way they respond to my “break downs” says they think it. A therapist of mine use to tell me how strong I am when I was messed up and hurting myself daily. It use to piss me off so badly because she wasn’t hearing me. She wasn’t hearing that I was unable to continue life as the current level of anxiety, flashbacks and fear. I needed her to hear me not to tell me in effect that I could handle it. She said I’d gotten through much worse and that I could get through this. How is that helpful? And don’t say, “this too shall pass” because that just makes me want to choke people.
Intro page 2
Quote: The symptoms of PTSD are not “in someone’s head” or a play for attention. Rather, they are the aftereffects of an event or series of events severe enough to profoundly alter a person’s thinking, feelings, and physical reactions. These events need not have gone on for years, months or even hours. A single life-or-death incident lasting as little as a few seconds is enough to traumatize you. In those few moments, your emotions, identity, and sense of the world as an orderly, secure place can be severely shaken or shattered. The rupture can be so profound that, try as you might, you just “can’t get over it.” Unquote
I like this because it shows that the event doesn’t have to be something that took hours or years or months to happen it could have been a few seconds that were bad enough to change your total self image and the world around you. This is a very validating statement.
Quote: Developing symptoms as a result of reading this book or being in therapy does not reflect an inability to heal or a hidden unwillingness to heal. Instead, your reactions probably reflect the degree of traumatization you endured, which was not under your control. Your reactions have nothing to do with strength of character. … Remember that it is not necessary for you to remember all or even most of the past in order to function or for healing to begin. Unquote.
Goodness, everyday with my mother was a life or death struggle. You know, I use to know by how hard she hit if she was angry at me or upset about something else. I took it worse when she was angry at me because something inside told me that if I could just change then the next time she hit me it wouldn’t be about this daughter that disappointed her.
I want very much to not think about that life every day. I want very much to not be triggered by a white van, a green Ford, the word Florida, the word fantasize, pleasure or the colour gray or yellow. I want to not flinch when I hear the name of others who have my birth name. There’s an example in the book about a lady who went out dancing and she suddenly realized that it was the first time in 24 hours that she thought of the abuse. I’d like to have a 24 hour relief very soon. Heck, I think that just like they do in AA or NA I should get a One Day Free coin and when I have so many years under my belt where the abuse does not rule my life I should also get a ring or a necklace like recovering alcoholics and drug addicts do
Shesh, their lives were filled and controlled in the same way mine is. They loose their family, their job, the house, the car and threaten their future day in and day. PTSD has the same consequences. Fear of leaving the house, fear of running into my mother, fear in general, my reactions to that fear it all prevents me from working outside the home. When I do get a job I don’t keep it long because the PTSD stuff comes up. PTSD issues influence my relationships and they influence where I’ll move to or why I move from a house. PTSD can break up families the same as addiction can. If the losses are the same then I figure I deserve a ring too. I want my ring.
The truth is nobody is so proud of recovery that they would display a ring or wear a necklace like a recovering addict does. Recovering from an addiction is much less tabu than talking about and working through childhood issues and PTSD issues out loud.
I’ve seen a lot of sites on the web but one that really impresses me is by a guy that calls himself The Godfather. That name is funny to me but hey, whatever right? I thought about his understanding of victimization and the stigma attached to it when I read in the book that the victims of sexual assault are often blamed for what happened to them. With alcoholism or drug addiction you get to use the word disease to explain why you did certain things and it is more acceptable of an apology than the apology from an abuse survivor who acted out because they didn’t have the skills to behave appropriately. Somehow sexual assault is hush-hush in our society to the point where we’d rather talk about an addiction and wear an AA ring than to sport a ring saying we survived rape, we survived incest and we have led a functional life for the past 30 years. Asking for and receiving this kind of acceptance and pride almost seems …odd, uncomfortable, unthinkable and maybe even a little bit foolish.
Today is prevent domestic violence day, cancer awareness day, nutrition awareness day, black history month, gay and lesbian history month, fathers day, mother’s day, bosses day but you’ll have to wait even longer if you want a survivors day on the books. I have to wonder how Hallmark would handle that one. LOL. Damn! That would be kinda hard. Would Macy’s have a Survivors Day Sale with an early bird special? That could get complicated so I suppose that for now I must be satisfied with a therapist and a support system. The truth is, I don’t need the world to recognize that I’m better. I just need them to not contribute to me getting worse. I need them to not get in the way of me getting better.
I sure hope this book offers more than a pat on the back. I want tools. I don’t want to hear “take deep breaths” or “do something you enjoy”. I want answers. I want step by step instructions on how to change my thinking or at least look at my thinking and figure out how it got that way. I want this book to show me how to be free and clear.
I should mention that I didn’t mean any disrespect for recovering addicts. I only mean that it is more acceptable to talk about than surviving sexual abuse.
But I still want my ring!!! I have just the finger for it too.
Joan of Arc for Morton’s Pride
survivors
Multiple Personality Disorder
women
Sexual abuse
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