WARNING: This blog is written by an adult survivor of severe childhood abuse. While specific graphic details are not offered, it is entirely possible that this material may be uncomfortable for some readers. If you have any doubt as to whether this may “trigger” you or make you feel unsafe in any way, please STOP reading and click elsewhere. If, while reading this or at any other time, you find yourself feeling unsafe or contemplating hurting yourself, please IMMEDIATELY contact a crisis line or mental health professional. Please – be safe, and be well.
If you or anyone you know is having a crisis and feeling alone or potentially unsafe, please consider using one of these resources. You'll notice there are organizations around the globe, including LGBT-targeted groups like PFLAG, and groups for survivors of different kinds of violence.
Here's a link to a list of resources.
Please know that I care, and many people in your life care. It's a sign of true strength to reach out if you're hurting; people want to offer their support. You are NOT alone.
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For those who've read some or all previous entries in this blog, you know that my background includes rather horrific abuse endured as a child. It's a sad fact that I am not alone in this respect; child abuse (in its many heinous guises) is an undercurrent in our culture. And when I was a child, there were few protections for children who were being abused. It was "private family business," however parents wanted to treat their children.
I endured horrific physical, emotional, and sexual abuse as a child. This included numerous strangulations by my step-father; he'd choke me into unconsciousness and then wait for me to wake back up - only to do it all over again.
I managed to live through all of this, but I was also expected to perform like a perfect little girl, getting straight-As in school, and never complaining or drawing attention to myself. As one might imagine, it's rather difficult to endure horrific abuse and then, only a few hours later, wake up and go to school with a pasted-on smile in place.
In previous therapy work, I learned that the most intelligent and creative children find a rather unique way to cope with circumstances like these. It's called Dissociation. And we all do it, to one degree or another. Have you ever driven to work, or a friend's house, and realized you don't really remember the drive over? It's often referred to as "autopilot." While "you" are busy thinking or processing something internally, there's another sub-level that takes over the action of driving.
Well, in my case, I developed dissociation as a way to cope with circumstances so horrifying no adult should ever have to face them - and many children couldn't even have survived. Many children who are so horrifically abused give up the will to live, fail to thrive, and then die for "no identifiable reason." Still others withdraw so far into themselves, they may spend all or part of their lives in a vegetative state, unable and unwilling to interact with a very frightening world.
We who dissociate learn to have "someone else" inside us be there when the abuse is taking place. Or, perhaps another way to look at is that we are there when the abuse is happening, but "somebody else" gets up the next morning and puts on a smile and a frilly dress for school.
I was diagnosed in 1991 with what was then known as Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD), now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). Whatever you call it, it looks about the same. Within me, I contain a Tribe...
A new blog has been created that deals specifically with life as a Dissocative. You can find it at THIS link.
The decision to come "out" about this has been contemplated for some time. My hope is that in so doing, I can not only facilitate my own healing, but perhaps help others living with DID or other forms of dissociation.
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