Pillar of Salt

Sometimes, I don't know how my husband puts up with me. I've struggled lately to connect to him or anyone else, so much so that he started to think that I no longer loved him.

We talked and I told him that I felt frozen, frozen like a pillar of salt, like in the story of Lot and his wife, which by the way, I really, really hate that story because I don't think that God would have ever had one of his daughters have sex with their father. This is a scripture that can become quite twisted by people who justify sexually abusing their children. In fact, I'm sure my own father probably used this scripture for his own evil purposes. It should be stricken from the bible.

End of mini-rant and back to my story. We talked and we've both been trying harder to connect with each other, which once again proves to me that I married the right man. He is a saint in how he is willing to be patient, kind, and gentle with his bent wife. I really would not want to be married to me, yet he hangs in there and treats me with love and respect and helps me to continue the healing process.

I am thankful for this man.

no-one to the rescue

I know that most of my posts since this summer have been sad because I've been sad - really sad. It has been a hard six months, but I've noticed over the last few days that my energy level is coming back up, and I've stopped crying on my way to work every day.

Is my depression lifting? I asked myself, "Are you sad?" Answer, "I don't know."

"Are you happy?" Answer, "I don't know."

I don't feel happy or sad or love or anything - except when I am in my classroom because that is the only time lately that no-one isn't out. I'm glad she recognizes that she isn't needed in class.

no-one is my alter who doesn't feel - she did feel once - but it quickly passed. no-one usually isn't out for extended periods, but with all the madness going on in our life and the world, no-one had to step in. The suicide this summer of my niece, the suicide attempts of a loved one since, the near-death experiences of two other family members, the suicide of a family friend two weeks ago, and then the horror in CT was too much for my system. It was time for an emotion shut-down. I was too depressed and tired to get anything done.

I wonder if this is what it feels like to be medicated for some mental illnesses or disorders. I really don't feel anything; I am completely numb. However, I can see that after a while I wouldn't like not feeling. This also helps me understand why those with bi-polar disorder go off their meds. I am an emotional flat-line right now - no highs or lows.

For now I am okay with this. The depression, worry, and anxiety were getting way too bad, almost to the point I thought I'd have to quit my job and stay home all the time because I was so afraid something bad would happen while I was at work, and I wouldn't be available to whoever needed help.

Thank you, no-one. Stick around for a bit while the inside heals. Alters really are created to keep the system alive and functional.

Dot

Sturdy, old, Irish Dot

Stuck with the babies

As happy as a tight shoe

Claiming a foot in a hard embrace

That is her job

No room of her own

Does she ever feel put upon?

Or angry

Or tired

Or want to discover Explorer or Microsoft?

Still she cuddles

And coos

And laughs

And plays

And keeps the babies safe

And warm

And dry

And fed

She without wants of her own

Exists for others

Like a fleece lined slipper that caresses

And comforts

And constructs happy well-nurtured children.

I Need to Access Information in Another Alter

I need to take a test for re-licensure next week. I studied somewhat for this test while school was in session, and the alter who does school understood what I studied. But now school is out, and today when I tried to study, I didn’t understand anything I read. I know that someone inside knows this stuff. It is times like this that I really hate having DID. This test is expensive, and I need to pass it.

For the most part, I am okay with my DID, but today I need to vent about it. Religion is another hard thing. My host is LDS, but my alters each have different stances on theology – from Catholicism to Atheism. When Saturday night comes around, there is a lot of internal arguing going on about going to church the next day. Several of my alters have no interest in Church – of any kind. If they come out when I am at church, they promptly go to sleep and take me along with them – even when I’ve had enough sleep and am not tired. It is embarrassing.

The church thing I’ve dealt with for years, but the test worries me. I will be at school tomorrow for an hour or two; I hope that if I study right when I get home tomorrow that the alter who needs to be out will be out. I also hope that the right alter will be there for the test. Sometimes DID is not a superpower in any way – it is just a hindrance that causes worry and anxiety.

How do others of you with DID cope with issues like this?

Nightmare

For the first time in a long time, I had a nightmare about my dad where he was in control. I used to have dreams all the time where he was in control, but for the last several years, I have been in control in those dreams. He says, "I want to call you."
I shove him up against the wall by the throat and say, "You can't call me because you don't know how to respect boundaries." He becomes small and the dream ends.

A couple of nights ago, I dreamed I was walking with my older sister, and Dad was walking the other direction and passed us on the sidewalk. He was really tall - he seemed like he was seven feet tall. Ann turned and watched him walk away with sadness in her eyes. I said, "Just let him go. Don't let him know you care." But she called to him. As she called to him, he turned around and punched her in the face - right in the nose (he did this in real life many, many years ago).

I was so mad; I grabbed him and punched him back, but my punch had no effect on him. He grabbed me and punched me, and I woke up. I wondered why he had power again in my dreams.

This dream has made me think about where I am in my life. Granted, I do have a lot going on right now. I have a child who is having some health issues; I am switching to a new grade next year; we are doing some remodeling on our house, and life in general is busy, but I didn't feel like I was out of control (which means not in control in my life - not that I have gone around the bend or anything like that).

Although sometimes a dream is just a dream, sometimes they can show me where I need to put focus in my awake life. I know that meeting all the new doctors and workmen takes a toll on me - especially those who wear beards. I mean really - shave for Heaven's sake! I just try to avert my eyes in order to get business done, but I struggle, and I feel yucky inside. The men with beards must think there is something quite wrong with the woman who won't look them in the face, but looking at a beard makes me want to retch.

I will be glad when the projects are done, and I can stop meeting so many new people. To those of you who love to meet new people, I commend you and wish I had that ability. I get so stressed wondering if the new people will trigger me in some way. I always have a prayer that they will be clean shaven, but that doesn't always work.

I just hope the next dream about dad has me back in control and him leaving me the hell alone.

"Better off Dead"

Listening to Adults talk:

“Such a shame.”

“A horrible crime.”

“Ruined.”

“Better off Dead.”

If she’d remembered then, would she have felt virginity is valued above all?

Even more so than self?

Even more than an eight-year-old's joy of trees and flowers?

Even virginity ripped away in violence instead of gifted in love or passion?

Worth more than life?

Ruined?

Am I Ruined?

Did the littles remember and hide even deeper, so they would not be, “Better off Dead?”

Or

Did she think, “If someone did that to my sister, I’d still love her, still want her here with me instead of just Dead and Still in the grave, hymen torn or missing, wasting and rotting in a ruined body.”

Isn’t the girl worth more than the act?

The strength of soul and spirit can overcome the battle, but can it overcome knowing that those who gave her life lumped her in the “Better off Dead” category without knowing she is one of who they speak?

Every fiber of her being stretches toward the Light of Life and Love.

Isn’t she worth more by coming through the Refiner’s fire, weakness burned away and replaced by compassion and hate, caring and distrust, strength and vulnerability, joy and sorrow, purity and soil, more and less, different yet the same, but mostly better off still being here?

Happy Independence Day to my Daughter revisited

Today is my daughter's telling day. I am proud of her, but I know that even though she has now made this a day to celebrate her courage, it is still a hard day for her.

I want her to know that I love her so much. I hope that her courage will lead others out of the dark secret of abuse.

I love you little twinkie!

Mom

Independence Day

How DID Affects My Life

I received an email message from a reader of my blog. I will try to answer some of his questions. 

For my writing class, I am writing a research paper about the personal effects of DID, as very few people even think such a disorder, using an incorrect word from the acronym, exists. I would really appreciate it if you could, along with your name so I can give you credit, send me some of your most important experiences that have affected your personal life. I plan on reading some entries from your blog, along with other blogs, so if you can just tell me the really important personal effects, like effects on a job or relationships, and I can pick out the minor effects, it would be greatly appreciated. If you would not like to e-mail me anything, that is fine. It is also fine if you give me a fake name, but I would prefer, if you chose to do this, to at least tell me that you are using an alias.

Thanks,

Rob Maxfield

Hi Rob,

Thanks for commenting on my blog. At this time, I am not comfortable attaching my name to my blog because as you said in your message, “very few people even think this disorder even exists.” Between Hollywood’s portrayal of DID and society’s stereotypes of DID, most people would be very uncomfortable knowing that their child’s teacher has DID.

DID affected my life before I even knew I had it. I thought everyone had conversations going on in their head. I thought I struggled to remember people – that I had a bad memory. I thought others also had to leave work when a huge trigger popped up, and I was thankful for a flexible job that allowed that when my system was in crisis. Thankfully at this time, my system is functioning well because the job I have now is not flexible at all.

When meeting people or going to a new place for the first time, I am very shy because until my alter “no one” knows who and what the system will be experiencing, everyone else stays inside. No one doesn’t often feel emotion and can analyze a situation better than any other part.  I have heard that I am stuck up, or that I think I am better than everyone else. I have been told by friends and co-workers that I am completely different than they first thought. Of course the person they know is the alter who wants to know them. Different people bring out different alters, so who one friend may know is not always the same as the alter another friend may know.

Having DID meant being afraid that the person I wanted to marry would run away when I told him about all my baggage. I was lucky to find someone who loved me anyway. Of course when we married neither of us knew that I had DID. I had suspicions for years, but what I experienced was not like what I had seen in the movies, so I set those worries aside. I was lucky to marry someone who said after my diagnosis, “It doesn’t matter; I love all of you.”

Having DID means not recognizing people I should recognize (like my mother and sister). It means play acting until the stranger I should know gives enough information (clues) to trigger the correct alter to come forward and take over.

DID means feeling completely out of control when I was first diagnosed, to feeling like I have a super power now that I have learned to deal with everything. It also means making adjustments and meeting more parts than I thought I had at first. It means learning to love and appreciate all the alters and their contributions to the wellness of the system – even those who are hard to love. They all have a purpose – it just has to be figured out.

Having DID means coming to grips with the abuse that landed me in this spot. It means mourning a person who can never exist because of the horror another person planted in my life. It means seeking and finding forgiveness and letting go of the rage that I felt toward that person. It means comforting little alters who still get scared when situations trigger those old memories or sending them to their safe place when I fight adult battles.

DID changes everything and affects every single part of my life. But I am okay; I function quite well, and I have a beautiful life. I am grateful for my family and friends who know about my diagnosis and love and support me anyway.

Thank you for your questions,
Sunshine

Crisis Switching

Usually when I am at school, I am in teacher mode and don't even think about my life outside of school, but one of my children has recently had some health problems, so I had to go to school co-conscious with the mother. I spent my lunch and prep on the phone with doctors, and when my next class came in, I couldn't switch back to Trina. It was a good thing that she had left detailed notes on the board for me to follow. I felt like a bad sub. One of my students kept looking at me like she was thinking, "Who are you, and what have you done with our teacher."

Is that how it is for people without DID when they have a crisis? Can you only think of that one thing, or are you able to still function and remember all your other duties? It is times like this that being a single would be helpful - unless singles also can't remember stuff when a crisis comes.

Luckily my child will be fine (hopefully) and the medication will work.

EEG and the DID Brain

I want to have an EEG just to see what happens in my brain when some of my alters are out. I've read that a DID brain reacts differently depending on the alter, and this will show up on an EEG. I wish there was a way to have one without having my name attached to it or it attached to my medical records. It would be interesting to see which parts of my brain are controlled by my different alters.

Maybe someday, I'll get to have this done, and my alters will feel validated.

Have any of my readers who are DID had an EEG? If so, what did you discover?

Psychopath?

I wasn't sure what to write about until I came across this article online tonight. The title really bothered, and the article also bothers me.

First of all I don't think it is funny or professional to make fun of mental illness. I also think that the boys this woman works with have a right to privacy - a right to not be poked fun of in the media.

The article is titled: "My Story: Learning to love 'my little psychopaths'" by Shelby Scoffield. Of course 'my little psychopaths' is in quotes, so of course we can see that she doesn't really mean it. She is just joking, so it is allright - right? Are the boys she works with psychopaths in the true sense of the word? Possibly. However, that doesn't mean that giving them this label publicly is the right thing to do.

Definition of a psychopath:

Also called: sociopath a person afflicted with a personality disorder characterized by a tendency to commit antisocial and sometimes violent acts and a failure to feel guilt for such acts. Source: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/psychopath I have met psychopaths. I would say that I probably lived with one while I was growing up. But it isn't a joke. Maybe I am just a bit sensitive because my own mental illness could cost me my job because people do not understand DID - they fear it. I do know that if I published stories of my students using their names and pictures in a way that violated FERPA laws, I would lose my job. I am shocked and saddened that this teacher did this. ***Edited to add: I see that the online news station changed the title of the story and took down the picture of the young men. I am glad, but I still think the story is awful. I can see that many of the comments express the same things I felt last night.

Response to a Loving Mother

A reader left a comment asking how she can better relate to her adult daughter who has DID. I am happy to answer for myself, but I know that every person who has DID has a system unique to them. I would appreciate any of my readers who have DID to respond to her questions in the comments section if you are comfortable doing so.

Q 1: How can people best relate to you?

A 1: I like to be treated the same way I was before I told my family members that I have DID. I don’t like people to bring DID up in casual conversation. I have alters who are not comfortable discussing DID. They don’t want to talk about it and get annoyed when it is brought up because they like to think that they are hidden. When they are asked about it, they can feel betrayed (by me). I am okay with those who know my diagnosis asking, “I have a question about DID; is it okay if I ask?” At that point if I feel safe, I can have an alter come forward who can talk about it. Sometimes it is scary to talk about it because I became DID as a defense mechanism. Talking about it can sometimes make me feel vulnerable - not always though - so just ask if you can ask.

Q 2: If we are talking – who am I really talking to especially when we are involved in a difficult or heated conversation?
A 2: My mother asked me this question once; she asked, “So who am I talking to right now?” I really hate this question because you are always talking to me. ‘Me’ being however is out. I don’t always think about who is out – the alter who is out is usually the one who needs to be out. Some people who are really close to me can tell who is out, but they don’t bring it to my attention. I only share traits of my alters with those I really trust. If they are observant, they can usually figure out who they are talking to.

I am curious about how others with DID feel about this question. Does it bug you to be asked who is out? It really bugs me.

Q 3: How can I protect you? How can I have your best interest when there may be multiple personalities?
A 3: I wish my mother would ask this question, but I haven’t shared my blog with her because I don’t always feel safe with her. You can’t really protect us, but you can do things to make yourself a safe person for your daughter. I need my mother to be honest with me, but she is not. I need my mother to stand up for what she professes to believe in, but she does not. I need my mother to not be a hypocrite, but she is a hypocrite.

My husband protects me by realizing when I am at my emotional limit. He knows when I need to rest. He knows when he needs to give me space. He makes me feel safe because he is honest, trustworthy, dependable, loving, gentle, and kind. He never makes me feel threatened. He doesn’t like to talk about my DID, but I am okay with that. He said, “It doesn’t really matter to me because I love all of you.” He does get confused at times when an alter is out who he is not as familiar with. He will say, “You are off today, aren’t you.” When he says that, it makes me smile all the way to my toes because it lets me know that he recognizes differences, but he loves me anyway.

I also think it is very important to honor your daughter’s wishes to not share her diagnosis with anyone. My mother told someone in front of me about my diagnosis; I was not happy with her because it was one more violation of trust. It upsets me because there is such a stigma associated with DID. I don’t want to lose my job or have people judge me unfairly. My brain created my alters to keep me safe and functioning. I function well in life, but I would never want people waiting for me to crack like a Hollywood portrayal of DID. I am quite stable.

Dear Reader,
Thank you for asking these questions. I can see that your heart is in the right place. You love your daughter and want to be there for her and to help her. Allow her to talk with you as she needs to, but remember she is still your daughter; she just has a brain that has created other parts to help her deal with emotional and physical pain. She is not her diagnosis – please remember that. She is your daughter who happens to have DID.

This diagnosis is very scary at first. At this point in my healing, I am okay with it. There are times when it is an annoyance, and there are times when it is scary, but it can even be helpful at times (like a superpower). J

Please feel free to ask any questions you have, 

Sunshine

Worry #1,201

My latest worry now that I am getting older is: How does dementia interact with DID?

If at some point I get Alzheimer’s, senility, or dementia as I age, how will it manifest?

Will those close to me blame my forgetfulness on DID? Will I blame my forgetfulness on DID?

If my mind regresses, will the littles be out all the time? Will they remember what happened to us, or will they be in a state of denial? If they remember everything, I really don’t want to be there. I remember enough to know it was bad. I don’t need to know everything.

If I get dementia, will I still have DID, or will I just no longer care that I have DID? Will I leave little piles of diced cheddar cheese all over the house like my sweet elderly neighbor use to? I wonder why she did that. Maybe she had little mice friends. All I know is that she wouldn’t let me clean it up when I would go over to help her. She would replace the diced cheese piles on a regular basis, so they never got too nasty. It was kind of sweet to think of little borrowers finding food treasure throughout her house – or maybe that was my littles way of thinking at the time. I thought it was rather charming, so when I get older if I get dementia, please don’t move my cheese.

Has any research been done on this issue? I think I better find out.  My grandfather struggled with senility. One time when I hugged him, he looked so scared. He didn't have any idea who I was. I felt so bad because I had been so close to him. I was sad that he was locked in his mind and unable to process who I was.

I really hope that someday soon (although I know it won’t be) doctors will understand the human brain enough to prevent or cure Alzheimer’s, senility, and dementia. Until then, this will remain worry number 1,201.

Back to School

School has started. I am happy and a bit sad to be back in school. When my husband said, “You are back in teacher mode,” it made me sad because I know there are other parts of me that he likes so much better. I also feel sad for the alters whose time in front will now be limited. Last night before I fell asleep, I thought, “I have to get as much done at school as possible, so I can still have time for the others when I get home, yet as I left school today, I knew that I had too much work to do at home tonight for anyone else but the teacher to be out. I like getting to know my students. So far, I think I have a pretty good group of students – all 205 of them – a few less than last year.

The last month has been a bit crazy. I learned that no one should have to bury a child, and that an accident can only be made light of if all the participants are able to walk away from the crash. When no one walks away, the results are beyond devastating. I learned that next summer I need to plan my funeral so that my family doesn’t have to do so when they are in the middle of their grief. I learned more than I even want to know about planning a funeral. I learned that there are angels around us who are willing to reach out and help a neighbor/friend in their time of need. I love that part.

I learned that some people will do everything in their power to hold onto pain and bitterness, and they will strike out at whoever is handy – even if that isn’t the person they are really mad at. I learned that some people hurt others to avoid having to take responsibility for their own actions. I learned that it is pretty pointless to poison (with bitterness) yourself in hopes that it will hurt someone else.

I learned that seeing a child marry the person of their dreams is a wonderful thing. I love seeing hope and joy brought back into my child’s life by an amazing person. I am thankful that my child was married and not buried, but I am sad for my friend whose child was buried.

I learned that I still really like all of my children. They are pretty awesome people. I love my children, but it is even better to like who they are.

I learned that I can’t fix everything or everyone, but I can give it to God, and he will pick up the slack and bring peace to my heart and soul.

Life is good even if it is a bit chaotic.

The Color of Paint

Paint Colors

Ask me what my favorite color is and the answer will depend on who is out at the time. I usually answer that I like all colors. I say that it would be like choosing a favorite child or a favorite book. When pressed, I will say green or red – again it depends on who is out.

My husband and I struggle to agree on paint colors. He would like the entire house to be the same color throughout. I, on the other hand, would like to decorate each room to please the alter who is present most often in that room.

He doesn’t understand this. He thinks having each room a different color makes the house look cheap. I said, “Remember, you are dealing with someone who is not always the same person.” He still doesn’t get it, but I love him anyway.

I painted the guest room a couple of years ago – a lovely gold color. He didn’t like it at first but it grew on him. When we moved the office into the bedroom next door to the guest room, he painted the office the same color only one shade lighter. While I like the color in the guest room because it looks rich, I hate in the office because Laura – the writer – the alter who is out when I am in the office doesn’t like it. She would like this room to be a lovely shade of robin egg blue. I know he is not going to go for that. I may have to paint it when he is out of town and ask for forgiveness when he gets back.

I love the paint in the toy room. It is called pecan. It is tan with a hint of red. I think it is warm and cozy, and it makes me feel safe. My husband hates it – with a passion. He wants to paint over it. I am holding out because it appeals to Cat – her safe place is a house in a tree with all the colors of nature. My 3D children also love the color, so for now it will stay.

Our 3D child who still lives at home has his room painted his favorite color. I let him choose because I think that is the right thing to do. My husband said, “Every room is a different color; we can’t keep doing this.” So we picked a color we can agree on for the rest of the house. I went to the paint store and found several lighter colors (he likes light colors) that I could live with. He chose the one that is the same color as the toy room only about four or five shades lighter. I don’t like it as much as the toy room, but I can live with it, he can live with it, and it matches the toy room, so we may not have to paint over it.

However, I still want to repaint the office robin egg blue. I also want my scrap room to be peach – the color of a peach that is bright and warm from the sun and drips juice when you bite into it. I want the accents in the room to be a deep blue. My husband may strangle me for making the house look cheap. Certainly if he accepts the fact that he married a person with alters, he can accept the fact that each alter has her own favorite color - or not.

Disconnected

There are times when I feel disconnected from my body - my brain is still thinking, but it is doing so separately from what my body is doing. I image it is much like my computer when I am running the virus checker - the computer is busy doing its thing, so it can't really do anything else very fast.

I'm sure my kids hate when they call me and my brain is off and wandering. I feel the thought process slows way down when I try to focus and concentrate on the conversation that is happening in the here and now.

I even feel this way sometimes when I am sleeping - the body is sleeping but the brain is off and running. It is just weird.

Does anyone else with DID ever feel this way?

Scrapbooking – the Key to Unlocking Emotions and Memories

Yesterday as I was scrapbooking, I came across a picture of two of my sisters and I that was taken at my aunt’s house. Christmas is depicted by a tree dressed in red and silver balls and an assortment of other ornaments. A Santa lounges either near or on the tree, his white beard in sharp contrast to his red suit. On the hearth of the fireplace rest poinsettias and two large red dolls that could be angels or carolers. My sisters and my cousins sit with me on the hearth – with me in smack dab in the middle. I have a cousin on each side me and one of my sisters sit beside them.

Five girls who all look happy, well fed, well groomed (which for us didn’t happen often), and well dressed. I am between the ages of eight and ten. Our little sisters were not with us on this visit. They may not have been deemed worthy to keep the truth from our aunt. Perhaps Mom was worried they would tell about a new or impending baby.

I remember the conflict of emotions I felt when we visited our aunt. I loved her house; it seemed regal in cleanliness and décor, but at the same time, I felt anxious that I wouldn’t fit in there – that I wouldn’t be clean enough to be there, or maybe my hair wouldn’t be styled appropriately for Aunt’s house. I knew we were outclassed with every breath of my tattered esteem.

Of course we were warned before we left our home to keep the secrets of the cult. I spent the majority of the visit in a state of anxiety, worried I may slip and say something that would land us in a dreaded foster home. Foster homes were a constant threat. Horrible things happened to children in foster homes (or so we were told). The outside world couldn’t understand the cult. We were so far above the outside world living our higher laws that they couldn’t possibly understand – instead they would judge us and our mother would end up in jail. We had to keep the secrets of the cult.

I looked for proof of what my mother had told us about our aunt during our visit. The nice furniture was surely a sign that she loved money more than children. The fact that she only had two children was proof that she was selfish and cared more about parties and fun than being with her children. When we told Mom about Aunt’s nice car, we were told, “Which one of your sisters or brothers would you give up to have a car like that? Aren’t your siblings worth more than a car?” Of course this made me feel incredibly selfish and self-centered. I certainly didn’t want to be the kind of person who cared more about material things than spiritual things. All of this led to an emotional distance from my aunt. During our visit, although she was always kind and loving, I didn’t trust her because I truly believed she was selfish.

After our visit, during the ride home, I would run everything that happened though my head. “Did I say too much? Did I say anything that would hurt the cult? Am I going to cause something bad to happen to someone I love because of anything I said?” The other things that worried me were, “Did she notice my shoes were scratched up? Did she see the stain on my shirt? I should have worn the nicer underwear to Aunt’s house.” Not that she could see my underwear, but I worried that she could just sense when everything wasn’t perfect.

This picture makes me angry because it reminds me of the dysfunction of our life. We were made to distrust a perfectly good, kind woman. We were taught that she was shallow and selfish. We didn’t see her devotion to her children and husband because we rarely saw them. We were led to believe that having a nice home and possessions was despised by God and that somehow our polygamist lifestyle full of want and need was far better than her lifestyle of security, cleanliness, and safety.

Instead of distancing me from my aunt, Mom succeeded in causing a chasm in my relationship with her. I don’t trust my mother. I don’t trust her to be honest with me or to protect me. There are many things I am thankful for about my mom, but the chasm is there. I don’t know if she can feel it, but I feel it every day. I wish it wasn’t there, but the damage was done - damage that happened in order to protect a cult that I despise.

I am close to my aunt now and have been for many, many years. I am thankful for her positive example of how to parent and take care of a home. I am thankful for her example of what a strong woman looks like. I am saddened that the little girls in the picture were denied a close relationship with their cousins and family who lived outside of the cult. We needed them.

As I scrap this picture, I am torn with what I should title it - what should I say in the journaling? Do I make it a happy layout and vent here on my blog, or do I write the truth on the layout? I think I will make it a happy layout, print out this blog entry, and put it behind the layout. I can have it all. :)

Book Reports = IT

Every quarter without fail, at least two or three of my students will write their book report about Dave Pelzer's book, A Child Called It. Most teachers wouldn't mind reading about his book, but I simply can not. I used to have his books in my "to read" stack, but I couldn't bring myself to read them. I gave them away.

I think that anytime a survivor of childhood abuse writes about their abuse and exposes their abusers, it is a positive step in their healing, but I can't bear to read about the details. I know first hand that abuse hurts and that it damages the soul and the body. I   don't need to read the details of the abuse of another person to know this.

That being said, I wouldn't want anyone to think that these types of books should not be published. There is tremendous value in abuse memoirs. Books like Pelzer's help educate the public to be more aware of the possibility of abuse. He helps us help children who do not have a voice.

As a teacher, I don't tell my students they can't do reports on Pelzer's books, but I can't read those reports. I asked my husband if he wanted to grade them for me, but he declined, so instead I grade based on the first paragraph and call it done. Maybe next year, I'll ask my students not to write about Pelzer's books - or maybe I won't say a word. I don't want to discourage them from reading his work.

Lowest Ebb

As we approach the end of the school year, I find myself questioning if I want to be a full time teacher. I enjoy teaching. For the most part, I like my students. I enjoy the staff, administration, and other faculty members at our school. I even enjoy coming up with creative and fun ways to present information to my students. I don’t like the bureaucracy or the time a teacher must spend outside of school in order to do a good job as a teacher.


My students are pretty good kids. I have a few that no matter what I do to inspire them, they refuse to do their work. I wish I could inspire them. I keep trying, but they don’t want to take the time to work. They are capable, they do okay on their testing, but they don’t want to do the day to day work, so they fail. I had dreams as a new teacher of making sure every one of my students passed, but I can’t do their work for them. I have one or two students per class who just don’t want to do the work. I have a couple of students who work really hard and still don’t get it. Those students are being tested to see how we can better meet their needs.

I work with a stellar group of teachers at my school. For the most part, our teachers really care about the students. They spend countless hours on their own dime to help our students succeed. Our administration is helpful and supportive. I don’t think I could work in a better school. However, I am burned out. I am in dire need of summer to get here. I am sick of our state leaders passing new education laws each February without waiting to see if the laws they passed last year even worked. I am tired of state leaders who add in testing that doesn’t pertain to our core. This means I have to take time away from what my students will see on their CRT tests to teach them a skill that they aren’t yet ready to master. I am tired of bureaucracy interrupting my classroom. I say, “Just leave us and alone, so we can commence learning.” Many of the new laws are demoralizing to teachers. I wish they would come spend three months in a classroom and sit through parent teacher conferences before they could pass laws that dictate which hoops we need to jump through.

The other issue I have with being a full time teacher is that my alters, who are not present during school hours, have taken over in the evenings and on weekends. It is not possible to do everything a teacher needs to do during the school day, but my alters want nothing to do with anything school related after hours. I have to fight all weekend to get things done that need to be done. I also have a problem with alters being out at night after I go to bed. I can feel them, and my sleep is not restful.

I’ve been told that next year will be better, but next year we get a new core which means I need to realign all my lesson plans and create new lesson plans. I know that this is the point of the year when teachers are at their lowest ebb, so I hope things will get better. If any of you are teachers, please tell me I’ll get through this. I’ve been told by administration that I am a good teacher. I know I reach students. I generally love being the classroom, but damn, I am tired.

Silent Footsteps Crowding Me

No Sugar Tonight/ New Mother Nature

Ultimately, the meaning of music lyrics, like poetry, does not come from the author. The author can tell us his/her inspiration for the piece, yet the reader is the one who determines meaning based on our life experiences.


The following song is said to be inspired by Randy Bachman’s encounter with some men who he felt were threatening. As he crossed the street to get away from them, a woman pulled up in a car, and loudly confronted the men. She told one of the men that he wouldn’t get any sugar tonight.

The song is a mixture of two songs – each one is better with the other than when it stands alone.

I like this song because it represents the drug years of my childhood and the many hours I spent hiding from the bag of goodies and the bottle of wine. It also tells about the silent footsteps that often crowd me. That line alone makes me feel that someone else gets it – whatever it is.

A person in my life chose to present me with a book for Christmas about how important marijuana is to the future of our world. He attempted to talk me into his way of thinking – that marijuana should be legalized. He asked, “Will you at least read the book?”

“I can’t even get past the cover,” I responded as I tried to visually avoid the large green leafy cover.

“I’ll rip it off for you.”

Of course the next page was a black and white leaf with two old hippy men. “You don’t understand," I said. “My childhood was hell. My father was a drug dealer. He had us smoke pot from a water bong. He told us it was good for us. Everything that book represents is a huge trigger for me.”

“You don’t think anything could change your mind? You don’t think you could get past your childhood?” he asked.

I just chuckled because the other option was tears. He jumped up, put his arms around me, and said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. I didn’t realize.”

I thought I was so good at hiding the scared little girl, but for an instant, through the chuckle, he spotted her peering out from my eyes.

I told him that I couldn’t risk smelling pot. If it was legal, that would be a real obstacle. Even with pot being illegal, I’ve still encountered it more than I ever wanted to. The smell triggers horrible flashbacks for me. I quietly left the conversation and went to interact with my 3D child. Inside, the feelings of the scared little girl with the hard knot in her center remained, and I quietly wondered in what dimension a book that glorifies any drug would be considered a suitable gift to give to me. No child should be exposed to drugs the way we were.

The Guess Who

No Sugar Tonight/ New Mother Nature

Lonely feelin' deep inside
Find a corner where I can hide
Silent footsteps crowdin' me
Sudden darkness, but I can see

No sugar tonight in my coffee
No sugar tonight in my tea
No sugar to stand beside me
No sugar to run with me

In the silence of her mind
Quiet movements, well, I can find
Grabbin' for me with her eyes
Now I'm fallin' from her skies

No sugar tonight in my coffee
No sugar tonight in my tea
No sugar to stand beside me
No sugar to run with me

Jocko says yes and I believe him
When we talk about the things I say
She hasn't got the faith or the guts to leave him
When they're standin' in each other's way

You're driven back now to places you've been to
You're wonderin' what you're gonna find
You know you've been wrong but it won't be long
Before you leave 'em all far behind

'Cause it's the new Mother Nature takin' over
It's the new splendid lady come to call
It's the new Mother Nature takin' over
She's gettin' us all
She's gettin' us all

Jocko said no when I came back last time
It's lookin' like I lost a friend
No use callin' 'cause the sky is fallin'
And I'm gettin' pretty near the end
A smoke-filled room in a corner basement
The situation must be right
A bag o' goodies and a bottle o' wine
We're gonna get it on right tonight

'Cause it's the new Mother Nature takin' over
It's the new splendid lady come to call
It's the new Mother Nature takin' over
She's gettin' us all
She's gettin' us all

Lonely feelin'
(Jocko says yes and I believe him)
Deep inside
(When we talk about the things I say)
Find a corner
(She hasn't got the faith or the guts to leave him)
Where I can hide
(When they're standin' in each other's way)
Silent footsteps
(You're driven back now to places you've been to)
Crowdin' me
(You're wonderin' what you're gonna find)
Sudden darkness
(You know you've been wrong and it won't be long)
But I can see
(Before you leave 'em all far behind)

'Cause it's the new Mother Nature takin' over
It's the new splendid lady come to call
It's the new Mother Nature takin' over

She's gettin' us all

She's gettin' us all

Sometimes I feel that drugs crawl out like the vines of the bindweed and strangle so many of those I love.