Dancing Candle, Dancing Mind

I’m sitting here in meditation, staring at a candle flame, trying to just be within each moment. Just sitting there, watching this little flame.

It’s an unusual candlelight, this one. Although there are no drafts or fans or otherwise air movement about, this little flame is dancing about like crazy. Up and down amd left and right. Nearly sputtering out then bursting forth ablaze again.

As I sit here I realize that this little candlelight is doing exactly what my mind is doing just now. Nearly going out into dissociated haze. Jumping alight with this slim thread of what feels like peace that I’ve been chasing all day. Dancing left dancing right. Am i under threat or not? Do I cut my losses and run, to never see my therapist again? Or to go in tomorrow after a three-week absence and spill my guts about how much I have been struggling and how even though i know it’s only a case of the transference bug I still have the feeling that she will be going away from me soon?

Up down left right dance Splinty dance.

And then as I sit here I realize that despite the wild machinations and meanderings that this little flame is going through…..it remains lit. There is a commitment to itself, as if to say hey I may be a crazy little flame and I may be all over the place, but I am still giving off light and color and warmth. I’m still here.

And so it is with me. Banged up as i may be, as anxious as I seem to need myself to be, I’m still here.

So I will be jumpy and twitchy and be unable to keep still–yes. But I made it. I know that this show is just the drama queens’ (the Teenagers’) way of saying we don’t like this this is just like all the rest. But it’s not.

It’s 2010. I am a grown woman. I have chosen to remain here. I may be dinged and the Voices may be screaming but my light’s still on.

Now the only remaining question is what do I do with the next 25 hours. Really–ya gotta laugh.

Dancing Candle, Dancing Mind

I am humbled and feel tremendous gratitude toward the courage, compassion and wisdom in the submissions posted for this month’s Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. I know well how much guts it takes to put out our stories and the work involved in helpful steps we can take in order to gain and regain our lives. Thanks so much to all of you for sharing your stories, your wisdom, and your artwork. Ok, I’ll stop my ramblings now–on to the good stuff!

POETRY

I’m starting with the artsy stuff first because, well, I’m an artsy person.

Susan Kingsely-Smith gives us a work of great beauty. She says: There is hope there is Light. The Road to Freedom from the Past is full of potholes and yet there is hope TITLE How do I? I will

RIck Belden tells us of the pain in nogt being validated when we told. Heartbreaking TITLE scapegoat’s cross

ART THERAPY

Amanda Kobeshimi submits some beautiful photos that accompany a description of a survivor with a compelling tale of life with DID TITLE Season’s Greetings from the Demon World

HEALING/THERAPY

Always a popular topic, especially so during the holiday season, when so many of us struggle.

Laura aka Simply Green tells us how to use compassion to help your abused child TITLE Compassionate Parenting: Meeting Needs

One of my favorite writers, Darlene Ouimet, gives us a blog from Emerging From Broken on the beginning of her emotional healing. She tells it like the process thru healing was for her. I identify with and learn so much from her–if you don’t follow her you really should. TITLE The Beginning of Emotional Recovery :: Emerging From Broken

Pandora, a dear friend, says: This is a discussion about a therapy session in which an alter of mine came out, bringing with her all the hideous and abject horror of her experiences of systemic child sexual abuse. TITLE Child Minder – Paul:Week Four

Paul from Mind Parts says “here are some thoughts on what are the essential tools to healing from dissociation and trauma” TITLE Cultivating Skills

Darlene Ouimet shares one of my favorite blogposts as well. It’s a hot-button topic and one that puts me up on a soapbox quite often, too. TITLE Forgive The Abusers? A bit of a Rant :: Emerging from Broken

ADVOCACY AND AWARENESS

From Tracie fills us in on Awareness of new and obtrusive TSA procedures, a very hot topic for this busy holiday season TITLE Vacation Choice: Naked Pictures or Federally Mandated Molestation

The wise Patricia Singleton asks: “Are you aware of who you are because of your struggles in spite of your struggles? Now THAT is a good question! Read what she has to say TITLE A Short Biography – Who Am I?

Joanaa Tiger talks about the senselessness of violence giving us ten instances wherein warning signs could have been acted on to avert horrid crimes TITLE Criminal Justice Degrees Guide

AFTERMATH

VoicesUnsilenced is a very powerful writer of the aftermath of child abuse. She tells her story with courage and fortitude in the face of trauma. Here’s what she has to say TITLE won

Nesher gives a great informational piece on the aftermath of trauma. TITLE Childhood Abuse and Clinical Depression in Adults

SURVIVOR STORIES

My bud Hope For Trauma talks about the stress of the holiday season on her alters. I put this piece in this section because her words echo throughout the year. TITLE 5k’s & Turkey Burgers

From Tracie says “This is a great project for survivors to participate in.” It’s yet another way to speak out, tell your story, and obliterate the silence” TITLE My Name Is Project

Patrticia Singleton talks about choosing a position of gratitude throughout the year, not only during the holidays. Strong piece! TITLE Thanks Giving

Tim Fischer gives us a compelling survivor story. Spend a few moments with his powerful images and notice what your mind thinks about it TITLE The Ghost of Halloween Past

My dear DragonHeartSong takes a courageous look at multiples and their struggles TITLE The holidays approach – good news; bad news

IN THE NEWS

Paul at MindParts gives some thoughts on the recent Oprah Winfrey show with 200 men who have survived child abuse. Interesting TITLE Why I Did Not Appreciate Oprah’s “200 Men” Show

Steven and Debra give us a fabulous poem on recent changes at the TSA. Read this twice. TITLE Opt-out to the Beltway TSA and Their Airline CEO Cronies: Take Your Planes and Shove ‘Em

AND FINALLY…..HOLIDAY TRIGGERS!!!!!

Patricia Singleton says sometimes shutting down is all that you can do to get through the Holidays. Hear hear. TITLE Shutting Down To Get Through The Holidays

My buddy Sharon Sanquist gives us some survival tips on how to deal with moment-to-moment stressors and triggers during this challenging time for so many of us. She’s a great writer and has a way of bringing clarity to just about any confusing issue. Go down to Comments to read her valuable help!

Lisa Kift the ever-wise creator of the Relationship Toolkit also gives us some survival tips. If you haven’t been to her website–do so today. Skip down to the comments section to see what she has to say. If you’ve not been to Lisa’s Toolkit on her website — you need to go!

My good buddy Ravin has been through so much in her life. She has more compassion in her soul than any ten people I know. Read her story of what the Holidays are for her in the Comments section below. I prize her life and so should you!

I personally did not write a blog for dealing with the holidays because I lost track a day or two before Thanksgiving. Meaning I just faded away. Apparently some of the littles were out and about, why I do not know. Since I have been seeing the Mighty C, I’ve been co-conscious. My personal history is that Christmas Eves I was brutalized more than any other time of the year. So–I lost a few days. Could be worse, could be raining. I get used to it as the weeks pass, but it’s always a bumpy ride at the beginning of the season. My wife is great, she knows it’s a tough time for me. We always end up doing all the fun stuff that’s plentiful here. And it ends up being a good time as I get involved as an adult. But it’s a rough go for awhile.

Again, thanks so much to contributors here. It has been an amazing opportunity for me to be allowed the privilege to read and consider their strength, wisdom, and compassion. Happy Holidays where you can get them! And remember–it’ll be over soon 😉

Not in Therapist’s Lap

Finally. A therapy session that is not a three-ring circus. Only three talked today. Red the five year old, Genius who finds the answers, and central who gets the summary and gets us packed up and on our way.

Genius needed answers. There’s this new thing, a compassionate adult, who comforts and soothes anybody who needs it, especially the young ones. She started with Sad and has spread out all over the place. She won’t let her face be seen but she sounds like the adult us and she smells of our Chanel Number 5. She holds them and rocks them and sings them lullabyes. They sit all curled up in her lap. She got some children’s books today and she will read them to the 2 and 3 year olds.

Genius doesn’t get where the knowledge of this compassion comes from. They feel it and show it to others, but it was never present for her. Which begs the question–in whose lap is everybody sitting in? Is it from the inside or from
the outside?

T sAys well if it’s not you, then in whose lap can they sit? Well, god forbid maybe you. T says it’s you. It’s true that you didn’t have anything like compassion shown towards you but you know all about it, after all it’s your job. You’re just beginning to self-direct it. So while you might be modeling things I’ve said or some things in our relationship, that attachment and caring, this is you.

You are not sitting in my lap. Are you sure because that would be just well ewwwww you know? T says I know it would and I’m glad you could talk about it, that’s a pretty big deal. But I am positive that it’s you. Oh thank god has this been bothering you yes for days. Well now you can let it go.

red has startling news as well. I didn’t feel like that on purpose? T no you didn’t. Like the flu when hou get sick it’s bad but you didn’t get sick on purpose? That’s right. So what does that mean? Well it means that you’re just like everybody else. Frown, confused. It means that if you felt something not on purpose then you aren’t to blame for it, right? Frown, thinking. That’s right? Yes that’s right.

What would it be like to not be bad? Ummm, can I be funny? You want to be funny smile? Yes you sure can be funny. You can be whatever you want. Thinking. Thinking. Can I have a safe place (T has been trying to get red to go get a safe place for months to no avail) I would like to have a safe place to go and there isn’t one. Uncle Norman always comes at school everywhere. T says do you want me to help you find a safe place? Uh huh. You can have whatever you want in your safe place it’s just for you nobody else can go there unless you want them to and you will be very safe you can just rest or sleep or just hang out….can I read? Can I read big books yes you certainly can, whatever you want. What do you want to read I want to read Wuthering Heights again sure you can. Thinking. Do you want us to find that place together for you? Uh huh. Okay here’s what we’ll do I will count backwards from five to one and you will be in your safe place in your mind and then central will be out in your body. 5………..(talking)………and one and now central can come out.

So, things are totally great. red has asked for and has found her safe place and is busy bringing in cats and horses and her favorite color. And nobody is sitting in our therapist’s lap.

Self-care or sick transference?

So. We have this thing going on for a few days now. It feels like a very bizarre and frightening and glorious thing, unfortunately all at once.

Being in attachment therapy is hitting every single string that we’re aware of in here. The idea tha we can be cared about, that we really aren’t inherently defective and contagious and vile is threatening everything we know about ourselves. It is a very hectic time. We feel see smell and hear many many things all at the same time.

Bu something fantastic seems to be being born in the midst of this big-bang chaos. Somebody inside is being very very caring to those who have The Troubles.

It started out with a mysterious voice saying shhh shhh it’s okay I hear you you’re safe now this is what safe is. T was targeted at a particularly frightened splinter. But this kindness thing is spreading like an Internet worm. It’s getting into deep crevices we didn’t know were there. H1N1 of the mind, who knew.

The image we have in our head is that the ones with The Troubles are curled up in her lap and she’s just…being with them. Self-hypnosis and they go into a state of calm. It is such a relief. One splinter at a time.

So the inevitable wrinkle here is that nobody sees exactly whose lap they are sitting in. It feels like somebody inside. It smells like one of us a good one like our Chanel number five. It sounds like our deep raspy voice. But we wonder where exactly it came from in the first place.

In our job we face transference issues all the time. Clients get get deeply, deeply attached to us as we go about the job of fixing them without their knowing it. So of course we are terrified that this coice, this kind and caring voice in whose lap they sit isn’t us. We fear of course that it is T. After all, we don’t know where else anybody would have learned anything about this self-compassion thing. Certainly not from our life. And so we Throw kerosene on the burning fires of this potentially fresh new Hell.

The idea of that kind of physical thing with T is totally, well, repulsive to everybody in here. Ewwwwwwww. Her job and the work we do with her are way too important for that. We have some pretty steep boundaries around physical contact as one would imagine given our history. It would just be so…counter-productive and just downright icky. We don’t want a mommy we want a therapist. She has these very comforting boundariesas do we. Which is what makes the work possible. She is a very special place where we can go to work thru this really horrid shit. Crossing those lines is just totally unappealing.

In the movie Sybil Sally Field does this, she sits in her therapist’s lap. Ugh we never understood this. It’s just too…primitive or something. Like friending your T on Facebook. The whole idea is that she is an isolated space, it’s just icky to cross those lines. If would frankly make our time together jus worthless.

So. What we’re hoping to discover is that we have internalized perhaps her words, her explanations o what compassion looks like and that somebody has pushed themselves up to take on that role. And that for whatever reasons she wants to be unidentifiable. This has after been brewing for some time. We’ve let ourself out of jail and have gone thru the gigantic backlash of ripping ourself to shreds.

What it feels like is that somebody is very unhappy with this new and fabulous twist and they are throwing out disturbing images to make the Compassion go away. There’s also this idea that we are really sitting in mom, which is completely terrifying and out of the question. Mom was a total nutjob and she was very vocal about her hatred of us. Compassion from her even though she’s dead is an absolute no-go.

This feeling and healing is hard. The honesty that’s required is appealing in it’s brutality, true. But not so much on the fun-o-meter.

Things That Suck About Child sexual abuse

Being a victim/survivor/thriver/whatever of repeated, sadistic and warped child sexual abuse really, really sucks. It does so in so many ways for us that we’re essentially just a mix of polymorphic personaliies and feeling-states and specific functions and raw memories. Here follow some of the ways that it sucks.

It sucks to feel a deep down understanding that we are a ball of shame. We’re brutal contagious humiliated horrific monstrous vile perverted bad and ashamed to breathe. It’s hard when people look at us because it feels like that is what they see, that we leak out from a Hundred places and get our filth all over the poor people who meet our gaze. There’s a function inside us who does nothing but reinforce this understanding. She is quite the bitch but she’s the strongest thing in us. She does not believe T that they are not bad. The other parts have given her this job to hold as the specific incidents of abuse have piled up on her tiny head. This one knows the truth. That on a few occasions she had orgasms. T says well it’s just a fact it just happens to kids when they’re manipulated in some ways physically. But this one knows the truth. Which is that they of course have control over when they have them, they do it all the time. T says well adults yes of course but not kids. This one does not see the difference. This one also knows that at times they were glad to be going to pedophile’s home,to get away from a hugely toxic environment with her mother. Who was a nutjob. Knowing what that bastard might or might not do, they wanted to go anyway. At times he was great to them. After he used them up and tossed them away he would always do something nice. Buy her ice cream or let her race motorcycles or tear apart a carbuerator. Or buy her pretty clothes after he’d ripped up what she had been wearing. They craved this attention as it was the only source of any kind of affection at all. T says that of course that is what every child will seek. But the one who holds the shame knows differently. No fucking excuses from Stockholm apply. T says this one is destructive and why doesn’t she go away. But that shame will fall to the anihilated personalities, which no she says would not be a good thing.

It sucks to be sad. There’s a functionary for this one too. She doesn’t even know why, all tha she can be is Sad. I am just so sad is all that she can say. She lost so, so much. T just sits with this one as she fights off tears. This sadness has been there since forever. It too has grown up with them. Just another dumping-ground for emotions too strong to bear. Nobody talks to Sad they’re all way, way too afraid. T has to hypnotize her to sleep when she’s been out because otherwise she can never rest. And she bleeds all over everybody else. Not so much.

It sucks to be fragmented into a hundred tiny splinters. There is no keeping track of it all when something is afoot. The weaver, whose job it has always been to regulate who’s out when, has run out of colors to put into the loom. She’s sulking and she’s on strike. There are probably thirty or forty little ones, each with her own little memories of the filthy abuse. They stumble about, interrupting the adults’ sexlife and freaking out all over the place. Some of them recognize that T is genuine in her concern for them and they get frightened to death and run. The Teenagers too are a huge problem. They hid when her body was living those years. Waiting for the next time he would come to get them, which they’re still doing today. The hypervigilance is exhausting. They generally do not know who the others are although some are beginning to overlap. Which is interesting and dangerous depending on the mix.

It sucks to be enraged. This has it’s own character too. It turns it all inward, wreaking havoc in self-harm and setting off the screaming howler monkeys in her head. There is no outlet for this one that comes close to being helpful. Just an overwhelming white-hot fury that will one day consume them all in a brilliant blaze of glory.

It sucks to be working in therapy, it’s like a full-time job. The Learning From The Transference is going to break her back. The trust thing, going on and off and feeling fabulous and panicked. The energy it takes to do this work saps out her lifeblood. And her checkbook. It is draining and confusing and scary and so real it is blinding in it’s insight.

It sucks to be barely functional. To struggle every single day to maintain some income-generating activities when the world is crumbling around her. To have to put so much effort into faking it to the planet just how fucked up she is. It blows.

It sucks that we have had to suffer like this with the only mental illness that exists because of the direct actions of another person. Without the abuse, there would have been nothing wrong with her. Ever. This makes us feel so empty, ao isolated. Not less, not sick in a different way. Would not have been sick. Jesus this drops us into the rage thing.

It sucks to remember. It was a characteristic that most of her specific rapes were extremely humiliating and sadistic and downright physically painful. Her pedophile was just one. Sick. Fuck. To remember these events in whatever ways that comes is wretched and surprising and demeaning all over again. Over and over and over. Sights smells sounds. Tastes, maybe that’s the worst.

It sucks to hear that they wouldn’t be a lesbian if this hadn’t happened to them. The fact is that she came out when she was five years old, when the abuse had been going on for a couple of years but wasn’t yet what it would become. They do not have sex with women because they hate men. They do so because that’s what gets them off. They have always loved women and they always will.

It sucks that her body does no belong to her. From the get-go her humanity was anhiliated and taken from her. Somebody else took complete control over her bodily integrity. The physical damage is being fixed, old scars and nerve damage. But nothing can give her back that ownership.

It sucks to know that so much was stolen from her, that her life was taken from her before it could really begin. She has no memory of a trust-able relationship, she has no memory of safety. When T talks about these things they do not know what she really means.

If sucks to lose time. To have to spend so much energy in documenting her every move so that central or somebody can keep track. To wake up in a strange place or time, to not recognize pieces that she has painted just breaks her heart. They’re slick about the way this happens, after all they’ve been doing it forever. But it is an awkward thing to say the least. Now that splinters are waking up, being seen and heard, this is happening more and more and that seems just so unfair.

It sucks that this healing process is so damn painful. T says well I don’t want to encourage this but yes, in a way the thing that hurts the most is the best thing to talk about. That they all have to go thru this feeling shit, this teambuilding thing this whole fucking mess, seems to be a punishment to some of them. Fabulous.

It sucks being a Buddhist because when she finally reaches that place wherein she just can’t stand it one second longer she has to stay here. Suicide is not an option for people who will only be reborn again.

It sucks that she will never have justice. Her pedophile is dead now and so she has to hold herself accountable for there to be any sense in the Universe.

It sucks to hear from well-intentioned but wrong people that we can just Happy this away. To be told watch a sunset or love herself is frankly all just bullshit. They seem to believe that we are responsible somehow for our pain. Just feel better here let me read you something from Thoreau while the Atlanta of her mind is burning all around her is brutal in it’s naïveté

It sucks to have wasted 150 grand and twelve years in the dead-wrong world of CBT. to hear over and over again that there’s nothing we can do about the past so stop going there. That that’s a bad choice, like living this fragmented life. That to have a hundred tiny fractured feelings and people and memories is a poor choice. Fuck you, CBT.

There are of course many more things that suck about Child sexual abuse. The bizareness of it all, the addiction to the pain, the inability to look away as if passing a fatal accident. But we’ve run out of colors and there’s nothing left to say. For now.

These are the biggest reasons why being a victim/survivor/thrived/whatever of child sexual abuse sucks.

Learning from Transference

Well. Ahem. We’ve been thinking about how completely familiar is this betrayal is that we’re feeling from T. Se have been in therapy long enough to be distrustful of the too-familiar. Meaning that if there’s an overwhelming emotional thing going on that a three year old, a ten year old, a seventeen year old and various adult all share…odds are that it has little to do with reality. Hum, yes. Well.

We have a problem with T in real life, yes. Her claiming the boggosphere and kicking us out of it is an issue. Can’t do it to us, no. But can one infer from this that the woman hates our guts?

Wethinks we smell a trigger. We have never trusted before, none of them. So perhaps we just don’t know how to do it. Perhaps our Protectors are sending off the screaming howler monkeys in her head because they’ve just realized that this is the case, that somebody has gotten under our skin. And so we run and hide under that familiar blanket of panic. She is going to fuck us she has fucked us she will fuck us so we’ll do the hurting first.

This seems to be the likely cause of our unease. Hum, well. Ahem. Wethinks we are confusing our therapist with that long, long list of people who had abused our trust and need in the past. Mommy?

Of course, there are many bits within us who are running for their lives in fear. And we are going to have to let them all sort things thru individually. Time-consuming but seems what needs to be done.

There is A Disturbance In The Force. Yes indeed. Confusion reigns supreme. But as hyper-rural Grandma used to say, be sure to count your chickens before they hatch so you know how many the fox has stolen. Quaint truism applies because we are our own fox.

We know that we will have to go thru this. With T. We have a sense that there is an opportunity for great learning here. Yes fuckall another fucking epiphany is about to be born.

There is a real-life issue to be dealt with here, certainly. It is about our freedom of speech and communication. It is about a request to shut ourselves off from a community we’ve grown quite fond of. It is abounaccess to information. It is about the validity that we just may be entitled to own ourself hence to be able to establish boundaries of our own.

And so. We’ve called T to see if she will have more time for us this week. We shall see what goes from there. She has said that we need only to reach out to her to set this up. We shall see how real that is.

But. His whole feeling thing is just so new. All the splinters inside us are all so new. Pronoun mix afoot. It is all just so confusing.

Yes, well. We will try to look at this from the perspective of a chance to learn something that seems to be rather important. Hum, well yes. Ahem. Oops.

Therapist Begs 4 Transference

We have been in therapy since we began having flashbacks in 1996. We were with the same shrink until this past October. We were stuck. Had been stuck for years. The Shrink was not very concerned with what had been done to us or to our constant dissociative interruptions. Death by CBT.

All of life, we heard, is about making smart choices. Trauma work? Bad choice. It’s ovah now, nothing to do but move forward. Dissociation? Poor choice.

So. Transference issues really never came up with Shrink. She appeared to be inhuman. We would prattle on about these horrific acts done to our body mind and our soul. Nothing but silence. Stone, cold silence. No reaction of any kind. We were so afraid of her that we never thought to ask why. The message we received was that there is no horror, no good no bad no nothing. PerhAps the woman was thinking that she didn’t want to encourage us to feel badly about it. Whatever. We heard that she just really never cared.

So. It never occurred to us to get attached. We carried on, thinking of all the ways our head was screwed to be sad or angry or confused. We failed to understand why we couldn’t just choose to be one soul.

For reasons currenly unimportant, we chose this past fall to switch things up, to see a specialist in trauma and dissociation. See how we could get “past it” jiminy quick and get back to the nightmare who was, to us, our unfeeling savior but our savior nonetheless.

Hum. We saw T once and all plans of going back to the evil CBT flew out the window. The woman listened. She told us that trauma actually IS a bad thing. She explained why we couldn’t just will away the alters that were the screaming howler monkeys of our mind.

Wow. See, when somebody tells of some horrific event, T actually reacts. She tells me that yes this was bad. She talks to our alters and makes them feel better. She has put to sleep a poor little seven year old girl who Had never slept before.

T is solid. She tells us that sometimes she is sad about the things that bastard did to us but that she can handle it, tha that is her job. To sit with us and hear the shite and take care of herself All at the same time.

She does attachment therapy, T. And if has totally changed our life. After over 45 years of hiding blaming laughing blanking out self-harm splitting our mind and personality and otherwise not dealing with it, we are finally just doing that. Dealing. Beginning to feel the rage is what is coming out first.

We are able to do this because we have a place to go that we can trust. That place is with this woman. T, T, T. She knows what she is doing. The whole trust thing is such a novel concept that it gets confusing. But from the first time we talked with her face-to-face we knew. She is strong enough to take if and she cares. Finally, finally. Somebody gives a shit.

You can probably see where this is going. red, the little 5 year old, has a total crush. She keeps bringing T little presents so she doesn’t make her sad. To make her happy. Pomegranates so she doesn’t get the flu. Hah, what can one say. The kid’s only five. T says let red know that she doesn’t have to do that, that I can take care of myself that she doesn’t have to have that job. But red will persist for as long as she can. Because she doesn’t know how else to say I need you and I trust you. Mostly because it’s never happened before. Not from good people.

There are others, of course. They have varying degrees of suspicion. But in time they will be having red’s experience and then of course the shit will hit the fan.

T is asking for it and this is how:

I will never hurt you I will protect you from your uncle Norman he will never find you here. No bad people will ever hurt you here. Yes it was a horrible thing he did to you. Tha was just awful. It was not you fault it has never been your fault. Bodies just do what they do. That doesn’t mean anything good happened from it. You could not control that it just happens. No dissociation is not a choice there are many very traumatized people in you and that is REAL. Who am I talking to? Well I’m very glad to meet you I’m happy that you came to tell me this. It wasn’t your fault. Who is taking care of you? How does that work? I want for you to heal. I want for you to be happy. If it’s too hard you don’t have to tell me I will just sit with you, okay? Uh, how awful. That must have been terifying. It was terrifying, wasn’t it? I know how you feel, you know. I care about how you are feeling. Do you feel that. That physical pain right now? I know you hurt. Yes. Yes I do I know that you are hurting.

Yes, that’s what I hear. Well, she asked me not to discuss it and I will honor her privacy, just like I will honor yours. You need to get together with them so we can work this out. Can you let the adults have Their Time? Take turns? Yes I’m sure that it was scary seeing that but that is something that adults can do as long as it Makes them happy. That is not time for you. I care about you all, about all of your parts.

I want for you to stop hurting her. You are being counter-productive by re-traumatizing her when the system’s upset. Can you try that, just for three days until you’re back here. Yes you can comeback. Why do you think you can’t come back? You think I feel differently about you because you have told me that horrible thing? Well I don’t. I do not think any less of you because of what they did to you. No I don’t because you are not what has happened to you. Your essential goodness has nothing to do with those awful, awful things.

You are strong. You are brave. You are working so hard and I want you to know that as much as I know you hurt right now that this is a good thing. This is a sign of major progress that you are creating within yourself.

This is not funny. Do you know that, do you know that this isn’t funny? I notice that you do that, that you laugh alot about it. But what happened to you was totally, totally vile. Your humanity was stolen and your childhood. Your ability to trust, to bond, to feel. This. Is. Not funny. Stop hiding.

I know how much you hurt, you know. I do. I know how much you hurt and I am very, very sorry.

Do you see? Do you see now how she begs for us to get the Transference Bug? Hahahahahah.