August 22nd, 2006 at 11:11pm
twcrew
I often wish I had more pictures so I could get a better glimpse of my life and the people who lived it while I was gone. Sometimes I wonder what I would say if someone offered to let me see the missing pictures. That’s what we call them. They are missing because they’ve probably been destroyed for years, or have floated from hand to hand for so long that no one knows the identify of the people involved. They are also called the missing pictures because the insiders who were in the pictures have long been hidden inside.
Could I force myself to look at them? Would I vomit, cry, pass out, or keep looking as if stuck watching a bad car wreck? What would I see? Who would I see?
The problem is that I can see the memories. I know pornographic pictures and home movies were taken that involved my body starting at age four. I have had enough nightmares and body memories to know some of the hell that was survived and at what psychological cost. But there is an odd thing that the brain does (or that someone inside does?) to help protect us from the full emotional destruction the truth would render. When we see the memories, our body isn’t four. We’re not the small, vulnerable, fragile, supposed to be safe, little girl that we see in other pictures taken from the same age. We’re older, bigger, somehow more deserving of the abuse, somehow less fragile… and somehow it makes it easier to tolerate. It’s easier to survive the abuse when you think that you’re partially to blame. It also helps that many of the memories are wrapped in the fuzziness of drugs given to make me more compliant.
Could I survive seeing the truth? The helplessness, the fragility, the sheer smallness of a four year old girl? Could I ever wrap my head about the truth that people are that evil, that heartless, that self-serving that they could do those things to a child? That they did those things to me? That my father was at times on both sides of the camera?
I still can’t answer that hypothetical question. I know I used to struggle with huge amounts of lost memories, lost years of my life, and wished I could watch some cosmic recording of my life from start to finish. I wanted to see everything so I could understand what made me one of many inside. I hoped it would help me understand what went wrong, and what needed to be done to get everything inside back to normal - back to one person in one body living one life. That’s not a bad goal, but it’s not a good method for reaching that goal. I honestly believe that if it took my brain splitting into different people to survive the actual events, it would take the same kind of coping to survive the video recap. I have to accept that my mind will never stitch all the memories into one single film. I have to accept that there are people inside of me who know more about my life than I do.
Entry Filed under: MPD, 1974 - 1984, 2001 - Present, Random Thoughts, Trauma
August 22nd, 2006 at 10:40pm
twcrew
I can look at pictures in the family album and I can almost always identify who is in them. That doesn’t sound like an uncanny ability until you realize that they are pictures of me, alone.
All the different people inside my skin have their own way of living in the body. The little changes tell the secret. Do they stand tall, or try to hide the body? Do they make eye contact, or look away? Is there a smile, and is it genuine? The subtle body language cues that let you know something, or someone, has changed.
I can see Sable’s strength, Nobody’s wish to be invisible, JeniPeni’s infectious smile, Selah’s seriousness, and Entropy’s sarcasm and mischievousness. Most of us are hesitant to be in pictures, and there are a few who have never appeared. There are a handful who have had entirely too many pictures taken.
Most people don’t notice the changes in my everyday life. They may think my mood has changed, the lighting or surroundings have been altered, or I’m suddenly not feeling well. They don’t realize that I may not even be there anymore. But my body - no, the body - remains, and the people inside take their turns, as we try to live this life of ours.
Entry Filed under: MPD, 2001 - Present, Random Thoughts
August 20th, 2006 at 08:51pm
twcrew
Please tell me that there’s more to life, more to recovery, more to striving to stay alive than this… this life, these nightmares, this medication ferris wheel, these strong urges to just give up, feeling like life is all a big scam…
What did I expect?
I expected depression to go away after years of drugs and therapy.
I expected the nightmares to subside.
I expected the body memories to stop.
Because we hashed it all out, talked it all out, lived through it hundreds (if not thousands) of times. We shared our peices…. this one had the emotion, that one has the body memories, that one over there remembers what was said… yippee, we can run all the peices together
and get “THE WHOLE PICTURE.”
So what?
Bills, bills, more bills. More responsibilities. More crap to do. More frustrations. More stories in the news that just prove the world is still just as horible and dangerous as it was when I was a kid caught up in the abuse… Feeling trapped, helpless, hopeless, frustrated, like I’m stuck in quicksand that isn’t quick enough to k*ll me…
Why am I here? What am I accomplishing? What has really, truly changed?
I want out of my skin, out of my own head. I want the walls of dissociation to come back up. I feel less functional than ever and yet I’m supposedly more “healed” or “recovered” now.
What is left to do? Meds, check. Meds redo, check. Therapy, been there. Therapy with someone else, done that several times. Self-help group, got the t-shirt. Books, read most all of ‘em. Helping others, is just sucking me dry. Church, can’t find one that hasn’t gone all
happy-clappy love-bomb which is so much like parts of the abusive “church” [cult] group that
it isn’t funny. Friends, can’t seem to keep any because I just don’t have the energy to maintain the relationship. Hobbies, I suck at everything hobby-ish.
I am invisible in most ways. So fat nobody cares to look at me. So quiet I can sneak up on people. So average in school and work that I don’t get in trouble but I rarely get accolades either. Just trying to be in neutral, just under everyone’s radar. Smile when they expect it,
jump when they demand it, otherwise just slip through everyone’s world like a vapor they don’t notice. Vapor girl. That’s me.
How many teachers never bothered to pay attention, to really look at me? How many people in my life *could* have helped end the abuse, or help me survive with more peices of my soul still intact, if they had just looked at me? How many peers only saw me long enough to make fun of me, to improve their ranking in the social disaster known as school? How many people will never notice that I’m missing from class reunions? How many people will never know when my funeral is? Will I be the *ONLY* person at my own funeral? Probably.
And I don’t know how to change it. And right now I almost don’t care. Because I’m so used to being vapor, invisible, non-bothersome. And most of the times that I wasn’t vapor to the world was when perps were studying my reactions in order to get their own enjoyment.
I’m stuck in this place I can’t name, feeling emotions I can make go away, and I’m sinking.
What the hell was the point of fighting for this life?
Vapor Girl.
That’s me.
Entry Filed under: Other, MPD, 2001 - Present, Random Thoughts
May 26th, 2006 at 10:19pm
twcrew
Entropy writes: Rachel has been trying to talk with us about what is going on. She told Tracy today that she refused to get the new prescription filled. She said that we don’t need to be more numb or further removed from the flashbacks. Instead, Selah needs to get connected to them.
Rachel writes: She needs to feel them, own them, know them, accept them. She needs a safe place to do that in. That’s why I wanted her to go into the hospital.
See, if she doesn’t, then we can’t work together as well. Selah needs to live Emalee’s memories. Then Emalee learns that she can count on us to protect her and listen and believe her. And that the Dark Ones and Perps of the Past can’t carry out their warped plans and fear tactics. Once Emalee learns that, slowly the others will learn that as well. Hopefully, the other lils, and Ms. T. My goal is to get Ms. T. to see that the D1s/PotP are full of smoke and mirrors. That she too can be free and safe.
If Ms. T. can begin to protect the Crew like she protects the D1s/PotP, we’d be doing great. Not only that, but as more of the D1s come over, the D1s will lose their power and control over everyone. Slowly, their system will totally fall apart. The Crew will have more people. But also more memories to deal with. But it should be safer because the Crew will have more strength and tools to deal with.
You know, I’ve been very proud, impressed, and surprised at Selah these past few days. She’s fought hard and long. And actually been able to ask for help. Throughout all of the denial of help, she continued to fight. She’s learning.
I’ve been going over this in my head and I’m trying to think of a good next step. I’d still go to Baltimore if they’d offer to pay for it. But if not I’d still like to see us go to Charter. This memory work needs to be done. The sooner the better.
I’m going to talk to Dr. H. tomorrow to tell her why we believe we need to be in a safe haven. A part of me really wants to go to Baltimore because they deal with multiples. Another part of me wants to stay here and go to Charter so we can deal with Dr. H. more directly. After all, she needs to hear this stuff and try to understand how we are set up inside.
I don’t want to say we’re suicidal because the incident on Thursday and Friday. I don’t want more meds. I don’t want more doctors to have to deal with. I don’t want to prove myself because of (bad therp’s) files. And I sure as hell don’t want another fugitive incident. At the same time, I think it is vital for Selah and the Crew to have a safe haven to deal with this stuff as well as the aftermath. I don’t know if I can tell the therapist, MD, or the hospital this and them still admit us. What am I supposed to do?
Maybe I can talk to Dr. H. and her understand and give me some input. But I hate the fact that few people are probably going to understand my point of view. Much less give me the right to try to run things. Few people understand that I know much more than any of the Crew or the D1s. I see more, I know more. I have all of our best interests at heart. My goal is to get all of us together, working together. In sync. In flow.
Entry Filed under: MPD, 1993 - 2001
May 26th, 2006 at 10:06pm
twcrew
We’re at Tracy’s house now. It’s been a terribly long week, and today just didn’t need to happen at all. I’ve lost much of the time, or just lost track of it. But what it all boils down to is this: my insurance company is royally screwing me over!
It all began awhile back when I hit a crisis time and began to cut again. I asked my therapist about hospitalization. I called the insurance company and they covered Sheppard Pratt in Baltimore, where my therapist wanted to send me. But these past few days of us trying to get them to let us go (to pay for it) has gotten us nowhere, and nothing but more cuts. Today my mom called the insurance company and told them that if anything happened to me while they were screwing abound, that she would sue them. So what did they do? They freaked out and called me back up. She tried to keep me on the phone while her supervisor called for an ambulance to come pick me up and take me to the local hospital. They wouldn’t let me off of the phone to call my therapist. Nor would they back off. So I hung up and left my room.
I went to the computer lab and found Tracy. I asked her if I could come over to her house and she said sure. So I went back to the dorm and got some stuff. My therapist called and told me to leave my room and not to let them take me.
I felt like such a fugitive leaving campus! As I walked out of the dorm I saw a police cruiser heading around the square and another one heading towards public safety’s office. My hunch was that they were the ones looking for me. I took off down the hill towards the parking lots. Dagaz or Entropy kept saying, “I refuse to be taken off campus like a rabid dog!” Rachel apologized to us saying, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Emalee was back to her “No box. No box!”
The whole drive over here was wild too. Every cop car, or cop-looking car freaked us out badly. I couldn’t believe how badly the whole process triggered me. It was like we had to run from these people coming to get us. And if they got us, we’d have no control over what happened to us. We feared being dragged away against our will.
I’m sorry, but I think anyone who had half a brain should know better than to put a survivor in that position. But they don’t have half a brain cell, much less half a brain.
Entry Filed under: MPD, 1993 - 2001
May 26th, 2006 at 09:50pm
twcrew
m still here
dont want to be
was cutting myself up just fine till the damn phone rang
sorry…
i tried to call you but i freaked when **** answered
and then i tried to call therp but got the answering machine
so i decided to cut a bit and see if that would help… and it did… and i cut more… and then i got stupid and wanted to cut lethally
but the phone rang and it was someone else i care about
and i feel so bad cus i know i let everyone down again
but i m here
i m alive
duke took us out of action for a few hours… that helped…
*shrug*
i dunno what to say…
m freezing cold, cant wam up, and i know it should be find temperature
??
outta words
e
Entry Filed under: MPD, 1993 - 2001
May 26th, 2006 at 09:47pm
twcrew
hi…
is entropy…
eerrrmmm…
wellllll…..
i was in the middle of doing something when you called us tonight… and i guess i should tell you thanks for calling when you did…
i was in the middle of cutting and well…. eerrmmmm….
you may have saved our life and not even known it
*hides*
i know… m stupid shouldnt have been cutting should be stronger should be not bothered by this shit… etc.etc.etc…
but i m bothered and i m at my wits end and i m tired and i dunno what else to do and i m scared
and i wanted to die 
but im glad u called cus you stopped me from doing something really stupid and i know i dont really wanna die, im just not doing well with this wanting to live stuff… and there isnt much middle ground to walk in…
im sorry
i know ive let everyone down
Entry Filed under: MPD, 1993 - 2001
May 26th, 2006 at 09:43pm
twcrew
wanna know how the fuck we can get past this
wanna know when you know if to go inpatient
wanna know if need therp or place that works with this specifically
wanna know how to tell if i hate therp
or if dark ones trying make us not like therp
wanna know why keep having bad images in head telling us what to go do
wanna know how to make them stop
arrgghhh
wanna stop having questions
wanna know how to make it quiet inside
Entry Filed under: MPD, 1993 - 2001
May 26th, 2006 at 09:39pm
twcrew
Ok… let’s see… what was the last we talked???
Wednesday night we got really triggered and Emalee had some back flashbacks/nightmares. Flashbacks for her, nightmares for the rest of us. So we came to the computer lab to chill but only got set off worse. Ended up cutting again.
Ended up sleeping all day Thursday. Then Thursday night the hurricane hit us and we lost power and Emalee and the lils got really freaked out at the high winds and bad rain and stuff. Stormed hard for a really long time here Lost some trees, lots of debris, but we made it ok 
Being without power was the worst part. It’s one thing to sit in the total dark by choice. It’s another to have no option. Triggered Emalee badly. Her memory/flashback from the night before was of being locked in a box as a “warning” from sperm donor and his brilliant friends. *gag*
Anyway… we are here… and doing….
We had a therapy appointment on Friday and we managed to read the therp the letter we wrote to bypass Ms. T. Told her about the Crew, the Dark Ones, all of it… She (therp) seemed ok with it all, which surprised us. The insurance company has spent all week jerking me around and has finally told me that they will not cover therp for me So therp is going to work out cheap rates for me and she’ll keep seeing me.
Entry Filed under: MPD, 1993 - 2001
May 26th, 2006 at 09:31pm
twcrew
*panic ahead*
just have to say it… need to say it…
MY RAZORS ARE GONE
MY SCISSORS ARE GONE
EVEN MY CLIPPERS ARE GONE
I had them all in safe, hiding places. Out of the way, trying to keep the body safe. But this morning I needed to cut a tag out of my shirt. Couldn’t find the scissors in the drawer. Couldn’t find the clippers in the box under the sink. Couldn’t find the razors under the sofa.
I DON’T KNOW WHERE THIS STUFF IS OR WHO TOOK IT AND I’M FREAKING OUT AND STUCK IN A DAMN PANIC ATTACK!
AARRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH
Please be on the lookout for any strange people in me who might have this shit. Let me know where the fuck they’ve put all the cutting things. A pencil is gone, a pad of drawings, even Emalee’s two drawings are also gone. Why the fuck is this happening?!?!?!?!?!
*sigh*
Huge headache
Entry Filed under: MPD, 1993 - 2001
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