400th post..
We were doing work on the naked truth - short story she called it. Story asks the naked truth why she is crying, she says people keep inviting her in then kick her out again, Story says she needs to be dressed in order to be accepted, so her light doesn't blind them and so they have time to except her pain without being overcome (our telling, not the drama therapist's). It used to bounce about the brain a lot as a child, very timely to come back to it now.
That psych apparently mentioned, 'False Memory Syndrome' to my DID therapist. Nice rigorous empirical approach then... She has sent him some material. I'm wary of these psych investigations that he's got lined up but I've already got the safe place and started the treatment for the disassociations and all the different parts so there is no desperate need to be begging NHS mental health services for help, takes the pressure off a bit. Like abusers and dodgy police the worst mental health professional have a hormonal response when they come in contact to vulnerable people, they can't help exploiting their position to negatively impact someone else because it gratifies a need to regularly inflate their egos. When they are not triggered by the needs of people who it is their job to help, predatory mental health professionals appear to be good at their jobs and easy to get on with. Now that I don't need anything to survive from whoever is going to be preforming these tests on me on us is much more likely to be charming and considerate. The impact their diagnosis or lack of them on 'ongoing police investigations into living people' is out of my control, the DID is proof to me that I have done all I can for now. Right now it's all about fully integrating myselfs with the knowledge that it's DID and not a Satanic spell, demon possession, evil twin, ghost of an unregistered child, all made up by my family, some super soldier ultra elite programming that can't be challenged and if I did a nuclear holocaust when ensue or just 'the drugs'.
The only way there is going to be better a understanding of the existence of organised and severe child abuse and its long term psychological impact on victims any where is if survivors engage with the existing systems. Of course its fucking hard. It's the same systems that promoted and trusted our abusers and protected their activities but none of the bullshit is going to be challenged by survivors bursting into tears and hiding under they duvet to cry then permanently refusing to further engage every time a doctor, nurse, charity worker, police says something bloody stupid. For us, unraveling the DID is much more important right now and most helpful to everyone rather than making calls to the police that aren't returned or scouring twitter for abuser names and seeing what pops up to give a mental and emotional kicking.
Chest pains recently have been helping put things into perspective recently as well, so loading myself with ginger and garlic and feeling a lot more philosophical. I know smoking nicotine regularly for years is a pretty nasty thing to do to yourself. It was insisted on by some pimps especially in early to mid teens because it shows a girl abuses her body or something, they didn't do anything that wasn't nasty. Keeps you feeling ill, gets the body used to be being addicted to something. So in some sort of attempt at self care I went to buy myself a pipe to try and wean myself off the baccy. I came home with what is definitely a crack pipe, although it did not occur to me at the time. I am very aware of the reason for buying it at time, I like the option of the wee hole in which pull in cold air along with scorching hot cannabis but this is a proper glass like you see on the movies, crack pipe. I bought gauze too though, it was a nightmare cutting a piece small enough to fit in the tiny hole at bottom of the bowl. I've used it a couple of times, I haven't smoked anything out of a pipe in years but I remember it takes a while to get into. I got sore lungs and felt all beautiful and yoga meish afterwards and not like a crack whore. It's a bit fucked up having the frigging around though. Amusing to some parts also though. Like keeping and using something from a slayed enemy. So many walls to breakthrough before I can deal with the fag smoking, so much murky family shit and teenage issues. I am trying to start to properly deal with it, I guess...?
I'm not buying any weed next week though. I buying a cheap tablet so we can bitch about whatevers on the telly to twitter, play games in bed, buy e books. Were all very excited.
That psych apparently mentioned, 'False Memory Syndrome' to my DID therapist. Nice rigorous empirical approach then... She has sent him some material. I'm wary of these psych investigations that he's got lined up but I've already got the safe place and started the treatment for the disassociations and all the different parts so there is no desperate need to be begging NHS mental health services for help, takes the pressure off a bit. Like abusers and dodgy police the worst mental health professional have a hormonal response when they come in contact to vulnerable people, they can't help exploiting their position to negatively impact someone else because it gratifies a need to regularly inflate their egos. When they are not triggered by the needs of people who it is their job to help, predatory mental health professionals appear to be good at their jobs and easy to get on with. Now that I don't need anything to survive from whoever is going to be preforming these tests on me on us is much more likely to be charming and considerate. The impact their diagnosis or lack of them on 'ongoing police investigations into living people' is out of my control, the DID is proof to me that I have done all I can for now. Right now it's all about fully integrating myselfs with the knowledge that it's DID and not a Satanic spell, demon possession, evil twin, ghost of an unregistered child, all made up by my family, some super soldier ultra elite programming that can't be challenged and if I did a nuclear holocaust when ensue or just 'the drugs'.
The only way there is going to be better a understanding of the existence of organised and severe child abuse and its long term psychological impact on victims any where is if survivors engage with the existing systems. Of course its fucking hard. It's the same systems that promoted and trusted our abusers and protected their activities but none of the bullshit is going to be challenged by survivors bursting into tears and hiding under they duvet to cry then permanently refusing to further engage every time a doctor, nurse, charity worker, police says something bloody stupid. For us, unraveling the DID is much more important right now and most helpful to everyone rather than making calls to the police that aren't returned or scouring twitter for abuser names and seeing what pops up to give a mental and emotional kicking.
Chest pains recently have been helping put things into perspective recently as well, so loading myself with ginger and garlic and feeling a lot more philosophical. I know smoking nicotine regularly for years is a pretty nasty thing to do to yourself. It was insisted on by some pimps especially in early to mid teens because it shows a girl abuses her body or something, they didn't do anything that wasn't nasty. Keeps you feeling ill, gets the body used to be being addicted to something. So in some sort of attempt at self care I went to buy myself a pipe to try and wean myself off the baccy. I came home with what is definitely a crack pipe, although it did not occur to me at the time. I am very aware of the reason for buying it at time, I like the option of the wee hole in which pull in cold air along with scorching hot cannabis but this is a proper glass like you see on the movies, crack pipe. I bought gauze too though, it was a nightmare cutting a piece small enough to fit in the tiny hole at bottom of the bowl. I've used it a couple of times, I haven't smoked anything out of a pipe in years but I remember it takes a while to get into. I got sore lungs and felt all beautiful and yoga meish afterwards and not like a crack whore. It's a bit fucked up having the frigging around though. Amusing to some parts also though. Like keeping and using something from a slayed enemy. So many walls to breakthrough before I can deal with the fag smoking, so much murky family shit and teenage issues. I am trying to start to properly deal with it, I guess...?
I'm not buying any weed next week though. I buying a cheap tablet so we can bitch about whatevers on the telly to twitter, play games in bed, buy e books. Were all very excited.
