Breaking black spider programming and memory in a dream.

Earlier this week I felt a specific type of programming breaking down. I have always felt I had black (widow) spider programming. Basically, all I know is that the memories are protected by a large black spider and I haven’t really been able to get past this due to the fear. Plus the large spider stops me all the time. One night this week, whilst lying in bed, I felt the big black spider coming out of me. It is still really disgusting for me to think about, but I sat with the grossness and just let it happen. It felt good it was going. It has been there for a long time, so I am not sure why God let it dissolve now. I only remembered it this morning, so I thought I better write it down and record it.

Last night, I woke in the middle of the night screaming really loudly. S woke up and asked me if I was okay and I said I had a bad dream. She asked me to tell her about it and a little part came out and said that my brother was standing above me whilst I was in bed and he was going to cover my face or mouth and told me this metaphor about a car and the little part cried and said, “but I’m not a car, I’m only five” and then she shivered and cried. Then I had what I know to be multiple moments, lying in bed and parts coming out in my mind and taking over. They didn’t talk out loud though, just in my head. The little part was still awake and asked S if she was Italian and also if she liked spaghetti. The little part said sometimes she liked spaghetti, but sometimes it is like worms. Eventually we all fell asleep and I felt a bit spaced out this morning, but okay. In some ways I am glad that I had this dream/ memory as I have known implicitly my brother was involved but sometimes I just don’t believe it. I hadn’t had an early memory like this (before the age of 9), so I am glad God showed me. I am glad that I don’t have contact with my family and this proved that I have made the right decision. My mother rings my ex husband even though I have cut off contact with her years ago. She tries to access me this way. It disappoints me that he talks to her. I don’t expect him to hold a grudge, but unfortunately it is like he is siding with my abusers. He doesn’t grasp the spiritual aspect to SRA and that I can still be accessed by them through him. It is sad that he dismisses my parts like that. I have tried to explain on a number of occasions and he just doesn’t seem to get it.

It is progress that I had a dream/ memory and that my parts came out. I would have liked to have stayed home all day in my pyjamas, but I came to work and fulfilled my obligations of a busy day and getting things done, which has made me feel good. Underneath, I am sad and disconnected but I know everything will be okay. I guess I just don’t understand why people are so sick, why they are so mean and bad and why little children and young people get hurt.


A strange encounter

I took the dogs for a walk this morning and I was feeling a little out of sorts, in my head, but okay. I see this man walking with his dog and he is talking to himself and then he starts talking to me about how his mother has really pushed his buttons and he can’t get in to see his psych. I’m just listening and thinking, “God what do I say to this man. I don’t want to be rude but I don’t know how to respond”. Eventually I just say “go easy and be kind to yourself” (or something like that) and he mentions God. Lightbulb goes off. “Well it sounds like you have God in your life so that’s awesome. Just keep turning your attention to Him and asking Him for guidance”. Then I could feel God kicking me and I’m like, “would you like me to pray for you” and he said that would be good. I asked him if it was okay to put my hands on his shoulders and he said yes and then I just prayed aloud to Jesus asking for his help to protect and guide this man, giving him courage to have boundaries and to separate flesh lovingly and safely and I prayed for his protection and then we said our goodbyes and off we went. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever done but it felt good and right and it seemed God led. I prayed for my own protection later and I had a successful day, but in the afternoon I met with a student who I know has bipolar (recently diagnosed) and I got so drained in the meeting, I felt under spiritual attack. I almost fell asleep talking to her in my office, I was feeling that sleepy and dissociative. Must be more alert and have coffee before I do that again. It nearly wiped me out for the rest of the day but I got through it.

Poetry fragments

When I am here I am present and alive and motivated and sharp. I am not really present though. I’m in and out of my body, my mind. I look funny, act funny, am funny.

Recently I’ve been under attack. Drama queen. I’m buried, depressive, flat lining. In part, I’m focused and together and on top of things. Life’s fractured.

We split up. I split up with him. Ran off with her. So damn in love, afraid to admit it to anybody but her. Our secret. Just in case it wears off. Like in the past. I was once trusted, now no more. I’m a born liar. Mop up the tears, drain the past.

It wasn’t like it was a love story. We were alcoholics. I was looking for a father. A security blanket. I liked motorbikes. I needed distraction. He was co dependent on me, I Him. I just wanted to be held and rocked to sleep. He snored. He was good to me, why did I run. Why was I so cold? Was I? I did my best but I changed and he changed and I never knew who I was and I hated being so mixed up. I felt like no one else would get me or be with me because of the parts. He was a safe bet, loving. I thought I could grow old with him. Plagued by guilt, regret, sadness. Let grief be. It’s allowed. Stop burying. We were two avoidants. It’s all my fault.

I asked God for pictures. He gave me nightmares I couldn’t remember. He gave me the remnants of disgust and stifled panic. He gave me everything, I am nothing.

Tomorrow I’ll run. I’ll run till it hurts. I’ll run till my chest heaves. I sweat. Tomorrow it will rain. It will rain when I run fast. I’ll shower in the rain. Tomorrow it will cool down. Tomorrow I will cool down.

Home church, denial and more EMDR

I’m a bit dissociative tonight as two significant things happened last night and today. Let me start with last night. I went to a small home church, led by the woman Deborah, who was co host and support during the radio interview last week. She told me that she held the group every second Thursday and that three SRA survivors attended, along with her daughter (a survivor of narcissistic and emotional abuse and neglect). I asked if I could attend and she told me she had to get permission from the group first. They said yes and so last night I showed up (half hour late- eek!!) and met two of the women (G & E) and Deborahs daughter. Deborah made soup and we sat and ate it and then basically told our stories. I realised how fragmented survivors memories are as their stories were hard to follow as they jumped all around timelines. I’m sure I did too. I guess that is usual when you’re mind has been split. I told my story, or at least part of it, but I just felt like maybe it wasn’t as bad as these women and that I was probably making it up. It was a really good night but I left feeling pretty dissociative and reverting back to denial and confusion. I will definitely go back tho as I have been wanting to go to a home church for many years now and I feel like God has delivered. I don’t want to go to normal church anymore, it feels too triggering. I just want to be with other survivors who believe in God and connect with Him outside of the structured and what I think is false framework of the church.

I had therapy today and I told my T about how I left feeling in denial and second guessing my story. Maybe I was just making up being SRA and wanting to be cool or different or something. We just talked about the evidence I had and also my body memory last week. Towards the end of the session we did some EMDR based on the belief that “I am making things up, I am a liar”. I just felt sadness and hurt come up and then I felt a shift in that belief. We stopped for a bit and then T asked if any parts wanted to join in with the EMDR on the new bit and I sensed my denier part was going to join in. We started it again and I was just repenting and inviting Yeshua into the process, putting the lies that I believed back onto the abusers. I felt sadness again and then anger… deep anger. We stopped and I just told T that I didn’t feel like I could move (it was a part), the part said she couldn’t get up from the floor, she was drugged. I asked if T would hold my hand and help me get up from the chair I was sitting in. She did and I got up and then just started shaking, I was in so much pain. It didn’t last too long and then I felt so tall! I said “am I tall?” and T said it was just because I was dissociating and the parts are small so through my eyes the world and body is very big. I felt like a giant! That was the end of the session and I just came home and worked the rest of the day, so it wasn’t too bad. But I feel a bit small tonight and in parts.

I feel exhausted too. As though I can no longer hold the memories down or stay silent. I’m not sure what this means though. So far to feel the memories body wise has been hard but not as bad as the surface effects that come out when I am trying to keep them at bay/ like depression and suicidal ideation and negative thinking and emptiness etc. I guess it will all come out in Gods time. I just got to trust that.

Depression. EMDR. Body Memory.

I have probably had depression since I was a child. It was just something I lived with, a sense of ‘nothingness’, no purpose, triggered by my abuse. In some respects alcohol and drugs kept me from ever really feeling it, but no doubt contributed to it. I am on an anti depressant, I have been for about seven years now and it definitely helps. I don’t really feel any side effects from it and don’t even notice that I take it, but I am glad I do. I exercise, I eat healthy, I have faith, I practice faith, I do recovery; yet the depression – a sense of despair – just sits underneath all that I do. My coping mechanism of keeping so busy, works to disconnect me from ever really feeling it, which I don’t necessarily see as a bad thing. Lately, the last six weeks, I have started to develop an observer self, a self that notices the depression and feels it. It is heavy, it is sad, it is negative. It shames me, it makes me feel like killing myself. It makes me think there is no real point to life. There is no meaning, despite the fact that I have placed meaning in my life, that my life is actually full of meaning, it doesn’t seem to matter. The heaviness is oppressive and overpowers me. Suicidal ideation has been big for me as of late. Mostly at nights, in bed, I just wish I could go be with God. I talked about it today with my T and we realised that I have likely had these persistent feelings for many, many years now, but that I have just suppressed them. As I am starting to heal, I am feeling the depression. T said that depression is a mask for anger and for grief. She talked about different options – neurofeedback (expensive but I am not ruling it out), emotional release work, feel the feelings or upping my anti depressant. I don’t think I want to do the latter, but I won’t rule it out. We ended up doing some EMDR, based on the negative belief that it is all my fault and that I am guilty. I couldn’t recall a specific event, I just know I was told this and I felt it so deep within me. T started EMDR and then a little part came out. She told T that she just hated looking out and being so big, meaning that she was only little and trapped inside an adult body. T said she could still be little and gave her a bear to hold. Then T asked what the opposite to feeling its my fault is and the little part said, feeling like it’s not, so T started to do EMDR based on the opposite good belief. Once that went on for a bit, we stopped and I started to feel fear and then I had a body memory. I shivered and shook and just breathed real shallow and T covered me with a big pink blanket and soothed me. Eventually the fear subsided and then the session was over! It has taken me five years to get to a point where my therapist could sit in front of me and watch me have memory. It was scary and I was vulnerable but T said that I was strong. I felt pretty shaken when I left but also much better as it was good to release some of the emotion that has been so repressed.

Earlier today I went to a Christian radio station and was interviewed about my satanic ritual abuse testimony. I was there for three hours because we did so much talking, but the interview only went for 50 minutes, in two parts. I might share it on this page when it comes out. It felt good to talk about it and I felt that I had a good grasp on being able to communicate SRA from a lived experience and also speak to the power of Christ. I spoke to my SRA survivor friend on the way home tonight and it was really cool to speak to her about stuff. She told me some pretty horrific memories she has had and I felt sad but privileged I could hear her and believe her, because I know, although it is shocking and sick and depraved, that it is all true. I think I am angry deep down at how they hurt me and how they hurt others, but it is still buried so, so deep. I hope I can release it safely over time as being depressed is not the greatest way to live my life, I know that.


Out of sorts

Very out of sorts the past couple of days. Hit me Saturday night after last boxing writing workshop. Exhaustion and dissociation overwhelmed me. I realised it was winter solstice too, so there’s a large amount of satanic activity just gone. I could feel it energetically and it has been very draining. I’m tired and afraid. I just want to shiver and shake and hide under the covers. Each day is a struggle at the moment, well, last week it got better but seems to have gone bad again. I can’t help but think it’s all my fault. I’m in and out of memory- it’s distant but there.

Trigger warning: ***************************************

I see blood. I feel bones, I see guts and I vomit. I am nauseous, the smell is intoxicating, I hold my breath and count to ten. I am scared, I am cold, I am out of body. You are at a distant and I can’t get to safety. Everything, including me, is behind a steel door. I’m trapped. I used to live in a box and you rescued me. Now I look back at deaths door. If I open it, i am sucked in to a void that consumes me. I want to tell you the truth because you are ready to listen but I am afraid I have no words. Only senses. They used to pin me down and spit on my head. They used to breathe close to my face and bury me alive. I wish I had of stayed there. They spun me around, they built a web and I could never go past it. Deep was the maze, down inside I would go, to rich colours and perfume smells, and parties. How they would laugh. I never knew if it was i that was funny or the butt of jokes. I was part of something that I never wanted to be in. They shattered my mind and told me so. I recalled nothing. I was full of fear. Still am, choked up inside, I was told I was nothing yet I felt I was something otherwise I wouldn’t be there, right? Kept waiting to be recognised and taken away. It never happened.

Busy crowds, invisible faces

Crowds and events are super triggering for me. I am okay if I am well prepared but tonight I’m at an event and I didn’t organise myself properly. I should have known to come with a group (keep protected) and meet up earlier so I’m more grounded in the space. Nothing worse than turning up to a big screening alone and feeling out of place. It sets off anxiety and those internal feelings of displacement and shame. There’s film screenings first, then an after party but I might just slink away and go home to the doggies. I think it’s okay to be an introvert. I’m extroverted in spaces I feel comfortable, but I am not a big fan of superficial chatter and boozy events. Just waiting on S to arrive and we’ll go in together. It’ll be fine with her, she is not a huge fan of this stuff too which is good, though in some respects it can be good to be challenged and not hide with your partner. Otherwise things can become isolating. But agh, stuff it, what does it matter if I am not part of a sea of faces, where a level of falsity lies within the connections.