The holidays approach - good news; bad news

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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It's been awhile since I've posted on this blog, or most of my others, either. That is due in great part to the fact that my laptop is dying. I can use it for word processing, working on my 100K word memoir, and using Excel to track the chapters, word count, etc. However, if I go online, even briefly, my whole system freezes and  usually crashes. I've run every anti-viral and anti-malware I can find, but nothing shows up. So, I'm saving up for a new laptop, and I'm using my partner's laptop when she's taking a break or when she's sleeping. This is one of those moments - I took her to the ER yesterday, and they confirmed what I suspected - she has pneumonia. So she's resting quite a bit. Bonus for me - actual online time, more than a few minutes!

So much is going on right now, and any survivor knows that events don't happen in a vacuum. If there is crisis or significant change - even positive change - it tends to resonate with the past to some degree, and we often end up re-visiting truths we've learned, or insights we've reached. Such is the case in my current situation.

The months of November and December tend to be challenging months for me. And really, it's mostly the latter half of November that's rough; the first half has historically been relatively okay. This year, that's changed, because November 11th will be six months since my mother died, and November 13th would have been my mother's 70th birthday.

During the holiday season, my mom and my step-dad drank even more than usual. Countless times I was left alone, freezing, either in a car while Mom was drinking in a bar, or on the floor of her office after she passed out, or even shut away in an unheated storage room while my mother and step-father had a Christmas party to which I was most definitely NOT invited. Getting really cold is enough to trigger me, even without the other aspects added in.

I am preparing for some very hard physical labor, getting ready for a delightful gift from the universe. My daughter, who had been living in Oklahoma with her former fiance, is now visiting a close friend in Alberta (Canada). Canadian immigration officials told Jen she can stay until November 28th, but must leave Canada by then. At that point, Jen will probably be coming home to Seattle.

This is fantastic news! I haven't actually seen or touched my daughter in years, and I miss her terribly. I need to clear out room in our tiny, tiny apartment, so she has room to crash on the futon and still have space for her luggage and such. Leslie would normally assist with some of this, but she was told by the doc who diagnosed her pneumonia that she needs to take it easy for about a month. Well, that leaves me.

I myself am fighting a lingering sore throat and a hacking cough with fever. It's not pneumonia - or at least not yet. I asked the nurse in the ER about my chances of catching the pneumonia bug that Leslie has, and she said something less than 50/50. I really don't have time to be sick, so I'm visualizing my immune system valiantly fighting any and all bacterial or viral invaders. I cannot and will not think of pneumonia as being "inevitable" for me. Our thoughts quite literally shape reality, so I'm very conscious of my thought patterns in this regard.

And speaking of thought patterns, I've been challenged by a newly recovered memory and associated flashbacks that I knew, on some level, were coming. I've been blocking these for a very long time, but it's clearly time for the emotional toxins to surface so they can be washed away. My challenge currently is finding a way to talk about the details - just with my therapist, even. This is so bad that it leaves me feeling dehumanized. And while I need to give voice to this particular atrocity, so that I can begin to grieve and heal, I am hesitant, fearing I will wound the soul of whomever learns of this particular event.

I suppose if I can survive the revelation that one of my alters is a ghost, then I can probably survive this latest detail. But it will take some time and some careful tiptoeing around the emotional minefield, particularly during the upcoming holidays. I remind myself that I've already survived the worst they could do to me; now it's just a matter of processing the memories, feeling the agonizing grief, and moving forward.

The memoir has come along nicely. I've been doing layers of editing, working hard to include all that's relevant and adds to the story, but working to come in at  a maximum of 100,000 words for a final count. The work isn't always easy, but it is certainly compelling. It's as if the writing is moving through me, like a deep and torrential river. I couldn't hold it back even if I wanted to, at this point.

I was deeply disappointed and moved to tears when I learned that Oprah had a multiple on her October 6th show. Nothing against the "housewife multiple," but I think my story is unique and compelling. I have moved beyond mere survival, and offer support to others in whatever way I can. I am ordained clergy, a Reiki Master healer, writer and facilitator, and much more. Perhaps when my book publishes, Oprah's people will give me a call. I've submitted my information to them THREE times previously.

Another idea for a project that has popped up, rather insistently, is doing a series of YouTube videos on life as a multiple. Among singletons, there is a great deal of misconception, stigma and fear surrounding dissociation. Frankly, it's a fascinating subject. Even if just from the mind-body perspective, there is a wealth of information we all can learn from how multiples "work."

So... that's the latest and greatest. Blessings to you for reading this posting. May your day be interwoven with gentle ribbons of laughter.

Compassion and Acceptance

My last post on Raised by Rabid Wolves was May 5th, six days before my mother died. In the aftermath of her passing, I have been grieving with all my heart and soul. I grieved for losing her presence in my life, and I had a renewed sense of grief for the horrors I suffered at her hands. The pain was almost beyond words.

I know that the grieving process will probably resemble a roller coaster ride - ups and downs, and never knowing what's around the next turn. Still, I've gotten to a place where I accept Mom's death. I am grateful that she is no longer in agonizing pain. Despite her words and deeds, I wouldn't wish that kind of suffering on her, nor anyone else for that matter.

My mother's last request was that I ~not~ come see her - she literally begged me not to come. For a time, I was caught up in feelings of rejection and abandonment. But ultimately, I honored my mother's wishes.

Through the kind actions of a nurse at the hospital where mom lay dying, I was able to speak to her mere hours before her death. The nurse held the phone up to my mother's ear...  I told Mom that I loved her, that I forgave her, and I understood if it was her time to go.  The nurse reported that Mom reacted - she briefly opened her eyes, and her eyebrows went up.  I could hear Mom making sounds; she was no longer capable of speech.

I am grateful that I was able to speak and act with compassion and acceptance regarding my mother's death. Some of my friends wonder how I could possibly forgive my mom and offer compassion, after all she said and did. I feel strongly that acting with compassion is a big part of "walking my talk." And compassion sends ripples into the cosmos, bouncing back to you in infinitely varied ways.

The acceptance part was admittedly harder. The selfish part of me wanted her to stay here, so I could have some more time with her, and so I could get answers to questions she'd been dodging for years. The better part of me, the wellspring of compassion within me, accepted that it was Mom's time to go.

Acceptance following her death has been up and down, but it's beginning to even out. I cannot change the fact that Mom ignored years of symptoms that led her to Peritoneal Cancer, Stage IV. I cannot change who my mother was, her abundant fear. I cannot change the fact that I'll never get the answers I wanted - I'll make do with the information I ~do~ have.

It has been said that lack of Acceptance is the root of human suffering. As the saying goes, "It is what it is." When we accept circumstances, and we stop insisting that things be different right NOW, we begin the journey toward healing. Acceptance does not mean condoning behavior or actions, nor does it mean refusing to work constructively for change.

I am learning anew the power of Compassion and Acceptance. If I can maintain a sense of both, at least most of the time, my journey is much easier. Resistance makes the ride rougher, like flying through turbulence on a plane. I am letting go as much as I'm able.

Perhaps there's a situation in your life that would benefit from an infusion of Compassion and Acceptance. What would it look like if you accepted things as they are at this moment, and move forward compassionately from that point? I beg you to consider acting with compassion towards yourself, because it ripples outward in your actions toward others. Besides, everyone deserves compassion - and that includes you.

_/|\_ Namasté

Forgiveness and Role-Reversal

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. ================================================


As I write this, my mother remains in the hospital, still in the ICU. She's been hospitalized for six or seven weeks; home once, for less than 48 hours before having to go back to the hospital. Mom's partner is a good person, and she shares with me all she can - or as much as Mom will allow her to. The reality of this situation is that I will probably never know just how complex or dire the situation is, because my mother believes in the power of Denial.

Additionally, Mom rebuffed my efforts to come see her, with my raising funds for airfare by selling some of my belongings, and accepting "love offering" donations via THIS link. She says my coming to see her would be a waste of money. I cannot describe how painful it was for her to say that. It took all my self-control not to counter with, "What, and it WON'T be a waste of money to come to your funeral?"

All of these current challenges with Mom bring to mind the struggle I went through in my 30s, when I realized that I carried an enormous burden of rage at my mother. It wasn't hurting her - it was hurting me. It took years of work, but I was finally able to lay that burden down. It' not that I condone what she did (or didn't do), but I was done being consumed by white-hot rage. As the years pass, I've come to see my mother as a frightened woman, with a childhood filled with loneliness and outright abuse. She's never talked about the abuse per se, but I've finally been able to read the subtext and see the deeper meaning in comments she's made about her own childhood.

It's a balancing act, accepting Mom for who and what she is, but not excusing her actions as inevitable outcomes of what she endured as a child. I survived horrors on a scale incomprehensible to most people, and I worked very hard as a parent to ensure my children knew they were loved, and to protect them from harm. Unlike my own mother, I made sure my children understood that I made mistakes just like every other person on the planet, and that I would admit when I was wrong. This is diametrically opposed to my mother's parenting stance - she insisted that she was beyond all questioning, and that she never made mistakes.

As a child, I was never granted compassion or unconditional love from my mother. When in doubt, she figured a good beating would straighten me out, even if I had done nothing wrong. She hated everything I represented - innocence, creativity, and the lost promise of her own youth.

Now, as an adult with two grown children of my own, I experience a poignant sadness, and an aching sense of frustration. In a twist of irony, I am able to grant her what she could never give me as a child: unconditional love and compassion. I will always love my mother; she gave birth to me, and did the best she could with what limited resources she had. If she had known better, no doubt she would have done better as a parent.

Still, being rejected yet again, being told that it's not worthwhile for me to come to see her, even though she seems to be at the edge of her own mortality - it hurts. I'm working anew on forgiveness, letting go and allowing Mom to do what she feels is right for herself. Perhaps she doesn't want me to see her this vulnerable, or doesn't want my last memory of her to be this painful. I can never know the rationale behind her current decision-making.

I've received $45 in donations - which, while not enough for a ticket to Texas, is enough for a nice gift and card to send for Mother's Day. My own therapist and I have been looking at my mother's current and past behavior, and we believe Mom may be dissociative. She certainly seems to have children or child-like alters - a theory that Mom's partner has quietly endorsed. So, I'm headed off later today to hit Hallmark to get a nice, soft stuffed animal and a lovely card, and then send it via Priority Mail to get it to Texas by Mother's Day.

A heartfelt thanks to those who donated! After a recent $500 rent increase, my discretionary spending pool is virtually nonexistent. All the more reason for me to keep working on my writing. I believe the content of my work is compelling, and a story unlike any other. Let's hope there's a publisher (or at least a literary agent) who agrees.

Courage and Fear, Considered

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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Courage. For some, the word conjures images of fearlessness, striding boldly into hair-raising situations with nary a pause. I consider such actions foolhardy, even reckless, but certainly not courageous.

Instead, I see courage as the ember within that propels us forward, despite whatever fear with which we may be wrestling. Taking action, despite fear, is the ultimate act of courage. Sometimes it really is as simple as “Action = Courage.”

Fear is an issue deserving of contemplation, just as courage is. Given our biology, we humans have the potential for a very real, nearly visceral manifestation of fear. The adrenaline-fueled fight-or-flight syndrome is a phenomenon we all have encountered, and some of us know it better than most.

Looking back over the last few months, I can see that it has been fear that has challenged me most powerfully. The sense of overwhelming dread, the message that it was not safe to remember – these took on a sense of a paramount importance. I am thankful that my awareness has shifted, and I realize that only through facing these fears head-on can I heal the underlying issues.

The work ahead promises to be messy, and sometimes so painful that breathing itself becomes difficult. However, I am willing to move forward, into and through the pain, so that I may emerge (eventually) on the other side of it. Rather like a trip to the Underworld, this journey will be filled with darkness. However, my belief in myself, my strength, and my faith are bolstered. I have a renewed sense of knowingness; everything happens for a reason.

I know this journey will not be without struggles. I grant myself the compassion to move through these struggles without undue self-flagellation. Historically, I have always been hardest on myself, and least willing to forgive my own weaknesses. That view has been revised, however, to allow for the truth that sometimes what we perceive as weaknesses can instead be strengths.

Without my life experiences, I wouldn’t have the same deep sense of empathy. Surviving that which should not have been survivable has given me deep insight into human nature, and what it takes to turn suffering into compassion. Each day, each moment offers a choice. I have allowed myself to be “stuck” in fear long enough. I will move forward with deliberation, despite fears that I encounter in my journey.

I will acknowledge the fear, give thanks for the information, and yet refuse to be held captive by fears whose origins are rooted in events long since gone by. Those who hurt me long ago can no longer hurt me. I need not battle my abusers, per se – karma inevitably works, and I can trust that the energy they put out has returned to them.

Instead, my challenge is to work through my fear, let myself see the full truth of my past, and grieve the very real losses. Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? Yet, it will be some of the hardest work I’ve ever done. This work, however, will also yield deep healing on a level heretofore considered impossible, or at least improbable.

And so, the work continues…

"Weird" Can Always Get Weirder!

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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Life continues to be interesting. Somehow, the emotional minefield that is the Holidays came and went with relatively few glitches, other than stressing over whether packages mailed or ordered would arrive on time. Missing the (biological) kids horribly, and pained deeply by my son's refusal to even acknowledge the email and accompanying $50 Amazon gift card I sent him. Ah well, such is youth. I think of where I was when I was nearing 20, and I cringe. So, more power to him, I guess.

My daughter continues to be a source of wonder. She's blossomed into such a beautiful, deeply insightful and wonderfully feisty woman, it just leaves me wanting for words sometimes - a feat rarely accomplished, as many of you may sense. Yeah, I know, I never shut up - especially on Twitter... LOL

It is deeply gratifying to know that my children grew up without alcoholism and ongoing physical violence, like I endured on nearly a daily basis. Still, it pains me deeply to know how profoundly they have been affected by my past. I would give anything to wipe it all away for them - but I know I can't. It's my cross to bear, something for which I'll probably never forgive myself.

Much healing work has been done since I was diagnosed in 1992, and that's a good thing. The bad news is that it's finally safe enough for the really, really icky stuff to surface. Up until the last couple of years, I would have said with some conviction that I'd already gained knowledge of the worst that had happened. Well, don't ever ask the universe, "Can it get any worse?" Because, undoubtedly, the answer is yes. It certainly seems to be the case in my current situation.

For those who are interested in more details, you can find them below:

Dragonheart's Multiple Insights: Phasmatis intus Tribus (Ghost Within the Tribe)