Thursday, February 20, 2014

my manic monday


Okay, not manic, but it sounded better than ‘the day we went apeshit’.

We read the poems to lyn, triggering body and picture memories as well as bringing up all the emotions that go with them. We talked for some time and told her a number of things NO ONE, not even charlie, knows. We talked about the stuff that more or less involved using sexual activity as a form of self-injury/punishment. This is the one area we have never directly approached. There are things that have happened that even tho the memories are there we have never been able to so much at hint at them.

The more we talked the stronger the physical sensations became and the more intense my panic became. At one point I think I steered the subject to something else just long enough o get a little break from the panic. It was becoming harder and harder to *stay* at that point lyn suggested doing a double session and perhaps trying the EMDR. She had the time available that afternoon and was willing to use it with us.

We never got to the EMDR. We were simply never able to pick only one scene with which to start. It was a constant jumble of memories that just got more intense as the time went on.

The last thing I clearly remember was curling up on her couch, crying and saying I didn’t want to go to the hospital. Part of that was the here and now fear that I’d become a danger to myself if we continued, but someone inside (a teen) was convinced that because we were panicked beyond control, someone would use that as an excuse to commit her. After all, it had happened before.

Here’s where it gets fuzzy. Lyn, I think was trying to convince us it was okay to talk about what was going on and that we were in NO danger of having to go to the hospital when a little came out. Based on what her memories of the bedroom were at that time, she has to be only about 3 or 4.

She began going into some detail of what had happened to her. Anytime she said too much or lyn asked a question about the identity of the abuser, she would cry out and say she can’t tell. The belief that if she told, she would be taken away forever by the police, had been firmly planted.

She was not the only to experience this set of events. According to the teenaged protector who came out later, they are twins. One endured the physical act while the other provided the expected verbal responses (“I like this game. It feels good.”) she was not only programmed to ‘enjoy’ it, but also to ask to play ‘the game’.

The more the little ones talk the more intense the distress became. At one point they slid off the couch to curl in a ball on their knees on the floor. The protector came out after one of the littles identified the abuser.

when working with larry in north Carolina, memories of incest surfaced. For 4 years I believed my dad molested me. I cannot begin to explain why we know it was not him. Though I can now accept that someone did do something. I suppose I can’t deny the possibility that it was dad, but I also know the mind of an abuser. A child who knows she is adopted and that she has another daddy out there can easily, at so young an age, be convinced that another person is that other daddy.

I was in no way prepared for this yesterday. I expected to talk about things that I chose to do in my teens. This took me totally by surprise and is something I had truly hoped never happened. It was easier convincing myself that nothing of this sort happened in my little bedroom in dale city, but I can’t anymore. It almost doesn’t matter who did this. The fact that it happened and the damage was done is what truly matters. The lies these littles were told still have to battled no matter who it was who told them.

After I don’t know how long of the littles describing the events, a protector sat up saying “NO! it did not happen!” she was adamant that first of all it wasn’t dad and that second it didn’t happen at all. The more she spoke with lyn the clearer it became. Her job was to keep the secret of what happened by not allowing the ‘twins’ to tell. She would deny or confirm events based on which version would best convince others nothing happened. If saying it did would bring accusations of lies, then she’d say it happened. If someone were more likely to believe, she would deny.

Her other purpose, as she described it to lyn, was to kill the twins if they talked in order to save them having to be ‘taken away’. This is where the role of protector can be confusing. Most protectors have a skewed perception of what real protection is. They can believe that in harming or allowing harm to come they are protecting from something perceived to be worse, in this case being ‘taken away’. In the mind of a 4 year old that is an incredibly ominous and mysterious thing that can seem worse than death.

I don’t know how long they talked. I do know that by the time they went back inside and I came back out, I felt as if I had run a marathon. Lyn said that for the entire time (well over an hour) by body was rigid with every muscle tensed. While the protector (none of them would give a name) was out she had a death grip on the frame of a couch and never once relaxed a bit.

Lyn filled me in on what had occurred in my ‘absence’ and gave me a written list of things we can do to try and reach these others to let them know they are safe. She let me know she had promised the protector that we will make no effort at all, for the time being, to get the twins to talk anymore. We will allow the protector to make the decision on when it is safe for them.

I stood up to go and couldn’t stay steady… I finally backed up and sat down again and just leaned into lyn asking for a hug (99.9% of the time we’ll accept an offer but not ask) and as she wrapped her arms around me she said “and NO going to the hospital! I wouldn’t ever do that to you”. I know she knows we needed to hear that but don’t know if she’s aware how very much we all needed to hear it at that moment.

The rest of the day is something for another entry. Right now it’s time to shower so we can go see dr. c. Here’s hoping FOD is up by this afternoon. I hate doing these entries in word.