Friday, January 24, 2014

trigger warning kinda graphic


should probably be doing this over in reality lostThe Crew's diary, but tend to leave that diary to stephanie...

i had started cutting again and was still unable to eat. most days were spent sprawled across my bed in a zone. it wasn't sleep. i just lay there with my eyes closed and listened to the screaming inside. i couldn't speak or function. i'd developed a shake that was almost convulsive. my hands were constantly moving. they would wave or the fingers would act out different rhythms. it never stopped. i'd panic and begin to pace and mumble. i'd go back and forth in my room for an hour at a time. i knew i had finally gone too far over the edge to come back.

december 2, 1998. i think that was when i realized just how truly bad things were. daniel was next door at a friend's house and john was napping. i remember deciding to cut. i vaguely remember calling pat and telling her i couldn't stop the bleeding. i'd sliced thru a vein in the crook of my left arm and was standing there in the bathroom watching my blood pour into a coagulating mass in the sink and i couldn't move. i *wanted* to stop the bleeding. i wanted to clean the mess. but instead was trying to keep it flowing. i'd never before cut and not kept it all washing down the sink in running water but this time the water had been turned off right after i called pat. i couldn't move.

i don't know if i realized then how familiar the feeling was. i'd been there before. unable to stop myself from saying or doing things that terrified me. it was as unreal as it can be. i got dizzy and nauseous so i sat on the toilet to wait. pat was 20 minutes away.

i could hear someone praying. i didn't know where i was. i couldn't breathe. i opened my eyes and when my eyes focused i could see pat standing just outside the bathroom door praying for me. the bleeding had stopped but she had found me unconscious and barely breathing on the floor.

the fear was incredible. the shame was worse. over and over i just kept trying to tell her i didn't mean to. it was an accident. i don't want to die.

when the paramedics arrived they gave me oxygen and began the task of trying to fit 3 of them into a bathroom too narrow for them to all carry me out. one of them had said 'she knew what she was doing' after seeing the small cuts that had so precisely cut thru the veins. i can remember hearing someone say 'it's about time someone realized i'm serious'.

started seeing a psychiatrist the next week. over the next 2 months the pastor and pat were seeing more and more facets of me that they knew were more than just 'spiritual' things or their imagination. after talking to charlie, pastor R started doing some research and spoke with several other pastors looking for an answer.

it was pat who found it. in a book written by a christian counselor she came across a chapter that described someone who's problem was eerily similar to mine. the client was a multiple.

when pat gave me a copy of the chapter to read, i went ballistic. NO WAY! forget it. not a chance. maybe something kinda like it but it's probably just that i'm exaggerating. they said i'm borderline. it's just that. i'm not multiple.

if this were bullshit... if this were an act or a game or an outright lie... why, even after reese, stephanie and roo began intentionally talking to me... why fight it?

to this day, i live with the fear that somehow i'll be 'found out'. every absolute truth from my childhood was a lie to everyone but me. every effort to seek help, i was called a liar when i tried to talk about what i knew was there.

in the last year or so we've developed close friendships with other multiples. in that time it has become okay for me to refer to myself as we, because that's who i am. i am many. i don't do it to draw attention to the multiplicity. only the few offline people who know ever hear me refer to myself in the plural.

as we have come to know each other. as the secrets locked away for so long get shared. as i continue to understand how this defense has enabled me to survive. as i learn to accept as my own the experiences these parts of me have taken on, yes i will acknowledge them. they are part of who i am and i will never ever apologize for being grateful that we are who we are.

so, for the record, and this is just as much for *me* as it is for anyone who may read this... i am WE. i will not always be more than one, but i will never accept shame from anyone who may choose to disbelieve. we will not be diminished by the ignorance of others. yes, we can be hurt, but we've been hurt and we've survived this far. WE will not back down.