My Reply

Well, after the last few weeks of therapeutic bliss I think I've gotten a bit cocky. It took overwhelming emotion to provide me with enough critical mass to overcome my deepest fear and send that email to my mum... and of course there are a whole new set of overwhelming emotions in its wake.

I am cradled in self-awareness. This would not be possible had I not learned how to contain my feelings and take care of myself in distress. It's still not as nice as being comforted by the unconditional love of a Real Mom or the empathic containment of a trained Therapist or even the sensitive acceptance of a concerned Friend.

There is something about letting someone bear witness to your experiences that grounds you in the world. This is important.

"You know what I've realised?" I pondered out the window. "I've had all of the ingredients for coping inside me all along. I just needed to do it with someone."

My therapist laughed.

I'm not convinced she understood me fully, but she does appreciate how vital making connections is for my mental well-being. I share so much on this blog, it can be easy for readers to forget how deeply isolated I was and still am. I think that is the miracle here. I think that is why I believe in my own resilience now, where I didn't six months ago.

I managed a reply this morning. 24 hours isn't such a bad turnaround, when you think about it.

Thanks for your reply, mum. It's still very difficult for me to take all of that in, and I'm not sure what to say. It scares me to hear you say that you love the woman I've become, because the woman I've become is, yes, independent and successful, but also incredibly isolated, unhappy, unhealthy and hurt.

I am glad you like video-chatting, but I don't like doing the videos because I feel under scrutiny, like an animal at the zoo. It is difficult for me to relax and be myself.

I do want to get to know you better, and I do want to open up more to you. But it's scary! I can't think of anything else in the world I'm more terrified of. It will take time. If you want to better understand what I experience, this FAQ is a good start:

http://www.isst-d.org/education/faq-dissociation.htm

I understand if reading it makes you anxious or upset or confused or ____. I'm not scared of your feelings and my only expectation from you is that you make an effort to share them with me, as I will try my best to share mine with yours (no matter how scary they are). I want to focus on the present and will try to include you more in my current and future experiences.

Today is Drew's birthday. He opened the presents earlier this morning and was very excited with all of them. I'm sure he'll thank you himself later. Tell my cousin we said hi and that we miss them and hope they will enjoy the fair for us this year and please send us pictures. I don't feel up to video-chatting with anyone today but look forward to video chatting in the future.

love,

Eliza

I still feel dangerously disconnected, but I continue to practice everything I've learned and I know: the terror (overwhelming though it sometimes is) has been contained. It will only grow smaller from here.

There is no panic button!

I've been avoiding this all day, but really that's just ruining my day so let's get to it.

I love you Eliza.
And I love the woman you have become. I am very proud of you. I love our skype sessions, because I get to see you when I talk to you.
I miss you.
Let's figure it out together. what next?

WWTD? (What would my Therapist do?)

How do I feel?

Scared. Like I'm right back at the beginning of therapy sessions facing the 'Kind Stranger' -- split between wanting to connect (attach, share, be seen) and wanting to run away. Self versus Self. The anxiety builds. But I'm focused on the battle; I don't notice what it is doing to my body. And when my therapist asks her first question, I ignore the battle entirely and perform.

Ahh, the essence of a dissociative disorder.

So, we're scared.

I am still trying to figure out how far I can push myself here. EP-Sad and EP-Happy are starting to integrate, but they are still children. Emotionally, I am still a child somewhere between latency and adolescence. I thought maybe I could create an Adult Eliza by acting like an adult, but now I see it isn't quite so simple.

I realised something both overwhelming and humiliating today.

I may have tackled most of the attachment disorder, and some of the dissociation, but I still all of the trauma left to process: my aversion to touch, my fear of intimacy, my PTSD triggers, my flashbacks, my nightmares, and more.

In the spirit of responsibility, I've realised just how much of the pathology in our relationship is because of me. This isn't blame; this is acknowledgment. I was the broken one. He changed his form to match mine. And now I'm pointing fingers at reinforcing behaviours that I essentially reinforced in him. Ugh. What a vicious circle, eh?

My therapist insists it can change. Drew and I certainly both agree on what is wrong and what needs to change. That's a start, right?

But I'm starting to falter under these expectations which now seem unrealistic.

What couples/sex therapist could possibly be willing to work on a marriage of someone with a dissociative disorder? Alternatively, how can I do this alone?

It is so easy to become overwhelmed by all of the 'splits' I find inside. It is the most challenging part of myself to accept. Beyond radical. I still hover somewhere between unwilling and disbelief. But an angry plea of 'Why can I just be normal?!' just reinforces the traumatic abuse and lack of acceptance that underpins the disorder.

One step forward. Two steps back.

I barely understand this myself. How could I possibly explain it to my emotionally-unavailable mum? "I'm sorry, I know I was authentic just yesterday but now I've been triggered by our growing attachment. I must defend myself against these threatening feelings otherwise I will dissociate completely." If that doesn't evoke a loving response from my caregiver, I don't know what will... /sarcasm

The heart of this panic is simple. I'm attached to my therapist. At some point, that healthy attachment trumped the disorganised attachment with my husband which had long since destroyed whatever attachment was left to my parents. And though my brilliant Parent parts know precisely that this therapeutic relationship is ending and I need to seek more healthy attachments elsewhere, my Child parts still have so much trauma to heal from.

I'm fairly confident that peace talks in the middle east would be easier than negotiating between these two sides. Patience. Persistence. Acceptance.

There are two people in the world who love me more than anything.

Why am I so afraid of that?

Fantasy

I used to escape by writing stories. I built entire worlds in my head and lived for hours in my imagination. Hours turned into days turned into years, and suddenly I couldn't write anymore because why put down words when in the space of a breath I could be there in my mind, walking those paths, touching those characters, feeling the emotions I was never allowed to feel as Eliza.

Yes, I may have lost a childhood but the places I spent instead were magical (literally). I know they were not real, but they are the playgrounds of my heart. I grew up in my mind.

So apologies to everyone if I find it hard to leave. Fantasy is one defense I am not yet willing to lose.

Have you heard? Have you heard about this girl who was ripped up by her roots?
Have you heard what she learned? Like humility, you win when you lose.

Pure Imagination

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it

Never Enough (Maybe)

I think it is very telling that the Wordle of my About Me page screams 'Never Enough (Maybe)'. What noncommittal perfectionism and shame. ;-) How very Eliza.

Potential new tagline for Eliza's post-therapy world?

Integration

Once I let him go completely, I felt it: a sweet rush of resentment and grief covering the longing that I dissociated years and years ago to protect myself from further trauma. He loves me so much; he treats me so well. He accepts me completely. But though I loved him, though I chose to move thousands of miles for him, giving up everything, starting anew, still I pushed him away.

There was something in that pattern -- something that only made sense once I stepped as far back as I could go. I let him go completely, let go of the guilt I couldn’t make sense of, and let go of the defenses.

It was simple after that. I missed my family. I didn’t want to leave. I was happy before I came here. I loved him and I resented him for the same reasons I resented my parents when they moved me away from Supercity. I pushed them away like I pushed him: because I couldn’t cope loving and hating him at the same time. Because I couldn’t cope loving and hating my parents, too.

So I split. I split then; I split again. And last night, I integrated.

These aren’t metaphors. It was EP-Happy who was angry, resentful and hurt. Once I was able to feel those emotions, I was able to access so many happy memories with my parents and with my husband that I had previously dissociated. I knew something important happened.

I knew I couldn’t let this opportunity for authenticity pass me by. It was the moment I was struggling to find, an opening to my Real Mom.

I let him go so I could make room for her.

She may never understand what it took to get me here. She may reject me today or tomorrow or the next day. That’s her choice. But I, I did what I needed to do for me. I did the best I could. I will continue to do the best I can.

As for how I feel now that I’ve integrated EP-Happy and EP-Sad, well, I’m exhausted. My head aches. I could cry on demand. But I like being able to remember all of the nice things my mum did for me, even and especially when I’m so terribly sad. I remember all of the not-so-nice things they did to me as well, the times when I needed them terribly, and the times when I hurt them in return.

It’s a whole lot of emotion in that bowl, now. My emotion. My responsibility.
And that is what grounds me now.

Me.



Read on the NHS Choices blog.

In my Sent Mail box

Dear Mum,

I need to say something. It's hard for me. I'm sorry I cannot be there to say it in person.

When we moved from SuperCity, I felt like I lost everything. I felt like I lost you. I didn't know how to say it then, or any of the other times, but I missed you, mum. I miss you.

I know you tried your best. I tried my best, too. I want you to know me. I need to know you. I need my mum.

It's okay if you don't know what to say. I know it is hard for you to express yourself too. I just need you to accept me and give me a chance to accept you.

These years have been so hard, but I have learned so much. I want to share it with you. I don't really know how. Can we figure it out together?

Love,

Eliza