Back to normal for now

I am feeling a lot better today. I prayed this morning, read my bible, had a good day at work, went for a long run and then to a co dependents anon meeting tonight. My head feels clearer, less negative. The feelings of disgust, self loathing and shame seem to have faded… but a memory.

I think the ritual dates are so disruptive. I feel under great spiritual attack, it is hard to get a grip and I feel like I am losing my mind. The weekend was scary, I haven’t felt so low for a long time. I am glad it’s over, at least I think it is over. It’s hard for me to understand the power of these dates. I feel like I’m causing it, making things up, being dramatic, a victim. I wish someone could explain the power of these dates and why survivors get so triggered. To the normal person, it must seem like a crazy thing to say.

So now it’s back to getting through the week, focusing on staying positive and grounded and keeping connected to God.

Weekend down memory lane

It’s been a rough few days, since Friday. I want to say it was because Friday was a ritual date and then Saturday was a full moon and I felt under complete attack, yet I am mindful I sound crazy and stupid. Maybe that’s what the cult wants. That’s the intention, everything we think, feel and say sounds paranoid and ridiculous. I dissociated Friday night. One of those shut down moments where I couldn’t really talk or didn’t even know how I was thinking or feeling. Blank, confused parts came out. My parts felt really unloved. They felt our dog didn’t love them as she wasn’t sleeping on their side of the bed these days. My system also felt so disgusting and ugly and fat. I’ve put on a few kilos, even though I am exercising and I hate it. I hate feeling any weight on my body. I wish I could look anorexic thin. I know my metabolism has changed as I have hit my thirties, but I watch what I eat. I just got to be so careful and now I feel like I can’t even have icecream or anything sweet. Maybe that doesn’t matter. Who cares? It’s selfish of me to want sweets. I can be gluttonous, it’s the addictive part of me. This is God waking me up, telling me to cut down my meals, be more mindful around food. Stop idolising it. I feel better when I am very thin. More in control.

Then Saturday came and my girlfriend and I had planned a hike. It was a three hour drive there, two hours hiking and three hour drive back. I woke feeling mildly dissociative but okay and then my mood just turned and the negative voices just kept going off in my head. I felt like she didn’t really love or want me. It was old tapes playing, shit that wears me down. Old thoughts and feelings, some as far back as 15 years, telling me how ugly I am and worthless and disgusting and that she is going to leave me and I was going to be left alone. She was going to take my apartment and things that were rightfully mine. Voices telling me I’m too old for her (there is a 14 year age gap and it is not something I am particularly comfortable about). So we drove with me in this weird ass mood, dark, silent, sullen and she thought it was about her and something she had done, but inside I am just hating on myself, feeling like the ugliest piece of crap in the world and just wanting to die. Because all I can feel is trapped, as though there is no escape from the pain and negativity that has consumed me and all the work I have done is for nothing, because I am beaten. The sickness, the darkness has beaten me. I sleep in the car and later we stop and get a coffee and eat lunch and when she goes to the bathroom I send her a text and say “yesterday was a ritual date, I got triggered and still feel it”. When she comes back, I excuse myself and when I return I know she has read it because her mood has changed and she is somewhat more compassionate, which eases things. We go on the hike and it is absolutely beautiful, but I spend the two hours silently thinking about how to kill myself. On the drive back we ate M&Ms and I felt so guilty for eating chocolate and became obsessive about weight gain and food in general.

At around 20 to 23, I had an eating disorder, basically I just used to starve myself and take amphetamines. I once got down to 52 kilos and was so excited, even though we went clubbing that weekend and I got very ill from drugs. My body couldn’t handle much. I’ve just been able to control food better than most things, and I have exercised to just not put on weight. But when you eat “normally”, like three meals a day, you’re body starts to look normal and I hate it. There is still a lot of unresolved issues there and I don’t really know what to do about it, because intellectually I know it’s memory (feeling disgusting, not wanting to feel my body, being told as a kid I was fat, ugly and worthless), yet emotionally I can’t seem to connect with these thoughts and feelings. I don’t know what the hell to do with them. I’ve tried to pray them away on so many occasions but it doesn’t work. The devil always seems to win.

On the drive home, we see this massive full moon, it is so big. Soon after I just feel this wave of anxiety and terror and I think, I’m going to lose my mind. I couldn’t tell S, because I didn’t want to frighten her, but I was counting down the minutes until we got home. I didn’t think I could walk though and felt like my body was going to collapse. I felt so bad for feeling this way, so selfish and horrible. We eventually got home and I brushed my teeth and crawled into bed and S just patted my head. She asked me to tell her the memory and I couldn’t say anything, because I had no idea what was going on or where it was coming from. I couldn’t get a narrative you know. I just could feel and hear so many parts clamouring inside my head.

We fell asleep and I woke up from a bad nightmare and woke S up as I was really scared. The little parts were out and it was the weirdest experience. We were lying in bed but it felt like we were either lying on the floor or sitting up. I know that is dissociation, like an out of body experience, it was just very disconcerting for my parts and a very strange body sensation. I had to sit up at one point to get a sense of where I was. My parts were all talking inside my head and I can’t really remember what they were saying, but it was all very confusing and disorientating.

They did tell S that a little part earlier was upset because no one had told her that we had moved and she was really confused about where she was.

The good thing was that my dog came and lay next to me the whole night so that made everyone inside feel a bit better.

I woke up with a headache but the dissociation had gone. I’ve been in and out of a depression today. I have resolved myself to do two recovery meetings this week just to try and clear my head. Thinking so negatively has taken its toll on me. I can’t seem to find compassion for myself that I might have just been in memory all weekend. I feel guilty for feeling and being alive.

Underneath it all..

Underneath it all lies heavy weight.

A bicycle covered in moss is tied to a street lamp. A wrestler makes us stand on our heads. I grip keys when I run and think about attackers. Underneath it all is deep wells of sadness, designed to suffocate me. Can one die from despair?

Underneath it all sits truth, coated in darkness, wrapped up so damn tight that air won’t get in. When I look in the mirror I am so confused by what I see. It’s all I’ve known yet I am but a picture. Desperate for another reflection. Each day it is the same, difficult to hold on to; fading. When I walk or look down at my legs I sense disgusting, as though it is a brand I have chosen to wear and i am the sales representative.

Underneath it all is layers of swampy mud and shit and it’s like I am caked in it and I keep trying to get clean but it keeps reappearing and I find myself wearing it again. Underneath it all is muffled laughter and bad jokes and silly looks that aren’t mine and conversations had outside of me and pained moments where all I want is your validation and then I am embarrassed to receive it. Underneath it all is hysteria and madness and jail birds and nylon on rough skin and ugly feet and dreams of regret about not being grateful for small things.

Releasing parts

Therapy this afternoon revealed a part, representing 100 others, who lived in a swamp. They were parts who held on to the feelings of disgust. They felt they were so gross that they lived in a swamp. My T helped bring them out, got them cleaned up and had nice dresses put on them. They’ve gone to live in the tree house with the other kids. I have carried around the hidden memories of disgust for so long. I want it rid of me. Please God, keep me clean and safe and pretty. I don’t want to live in a swamp anymore.

Flat weekend

This trauma survivor feels too big for her body, any weight signifying presence. She’d rather die than feel her body. This trauma survivor feels guilty for sadness, feeling miserable, feeling anything. This trauma survivor feels bad for having a day off, yet she’s pushed herself to the ground and she’s wondering if she’s going to be able to get up again.

This trauma survivor eats dust, is scared of her shadow, wishes she was dead, is so tired but cannot sleep. This trauma survivor has no personality or peculiarity, she’s lifeless and alone. This trauma survivor has the life sucked out of her, has lost all energy to even fake it, can’t decide on a wardrobe, feels ashamed to be alive.


That’s what it is. I’m grieving for that girl and I don’t know why I am still alive. I don’t wanna be alive. If only I could take her place. A Great Depression has clouded me. I’m suffocated by its presence. In pain. I’m tired of doing life, yes, underneath it is a toxic deep rooted belief “what’s the point?” “Life is meaningless” and “there is so much pain in the world, I am powerless to help”. There is a small part of me saying, “don’t feed into the devils lies”, but there is just too much darkness today to think the light could exist to save all. And if it ain’t going to save all, then God chooses and if he chooses, maybe he’ll choose me, maybe he won’t, but why do good people also not get chosen? I don’t know what I’m saying. This is parts trying to express themselves, I guess.

Talking to my parts

I am at home today, which is a good thing. I know i have needed a day off. People worry I will burn out. I move fast, I take on a lot, but the multiplicity helps this.

I am still in a lot of pain because of my neck. I think i have pinched a nerve, a random thing, but came after a bad memory Wednesday night. I do believe body and mind are completely interconnected. The ‘neck’ is seen to represent the past (not being able to look behind or accept the past). Makes sense given my repressed memories. I had to cancel therapy, which is annoying because i do need to see her, but the drive is probably a bit too much for me today. We had a text message exchange:

T: “Hard as it is, it’s good that the memories surface, because  in the long run you’ll be free. Right now I suggest you practise a kind of meditative state, holding hands with Jesus. Relax your muscles as best you can and pray gently. That acceptance will help the parts”.

Me: “Okay I will try, it hurts. I am doing my best to remain distracted but underneath I am in a lot of physical pain (besides neck) and there are still so many feelings of disgust.”

T: “Wow that’s really intense! If you were in my room I would be using that state to allow parts to speak. I think you could do that in your mind or with writing maybe?”

Okay, I tell her, I will write. Now, I invite my parts to speak about what’s going on for them:

“Black inside, walls thick with darkness. We waited, we watched. Hit over head. Things were always foggy, groggy. I was confused. I never knew where I was. Sadness lived in the trees. They used to talk to me, tell me that it would be all over soon. They too had suffered. I didn’t know what they meant. I didn’t understand words like that yet. I knew a few things. 1. I must be real bad to be here, 2. I must have done something really wrong to cause this, 3. I mustn’t be a good person.

I didn’t even know what it all meant all I knew is that it must be true”.

Me: “who was the poor girl you were upset about?”

Them: “we never knew her name. She was just like us, it could have been us. It should have been us. Many were off the street, we lived in homes, maybe it was better she was dead”.

Me: “I’m sorry you saw and experienced such cruelty”.

Them: “you just get used to it. There’s no other option.”

Me: “there wasn’t then because you were only little. Now, it is different. Turning on the light and coming out of the darkness is now a possibility. At that time, you had no choice but to go along. Now, you can do something different”.

Them: “nothings different. People still die, it happens every moment, every day.”

Me: “yes but we don’t witness it in the way you did and we have a chance to do something about it, by saying yes to the light”.

Them: “we’ve seen light kill. It’s not always done in the dark”.

Me: “yes I’m sure you have because darkness can appear as light. If you look out, to me, at the light, and ask it to show you it’s real self, then you will see whether this light can be trusted”.

Them: “I saw.”

Me: “what did you see?”

Them: “we saw love and an angel holding a baby and life and people sick but helping each other and loving each other”.

Me: “you can be part of that picture. You can be taken care of too and heal and then maybe if you can, you can give that gift to others. Would you like to come with me and rest?”

I hold out my hand. She/ they take it. We walk to the light (Yeshua), we are embraced even though everyone is so sad and feels gross. Yeshua says we are clean and beautiful and He will protect us. Maybe we feel safe for a second. It’s nicer here than over there.

We know we can process more. We have started.

Bad memory

Last night my little parts came out and I went to bed dissociative. There was no trigger, it just happened. I woke up from nightmares in the middle of the night twice and the second time I yelled out to wake up S. My little ones told her they were having a bad dream and she asked them to tell her about it but they couldn’t really explain so much. And then our body started shaking and I was over heating and S got me to move my body and stretch out my legs, but as I did this, the memory just shot through my body and I started crying, heaving, and shaking my head saying “that poor girl, that poor poor girl” and S asked me who I was talking about and my parts said we couldn’t tell her. Then S got my big furry dog to come lie next to me so I could hold her and I also cuddled all my toys and then S played an animal guessing game with my little parts and that made them feel a bit better and eventually everyone inside fell asleep. I woke feeling pretty tired understandably but got up. Then when I finished showering I was about to get out and I experienced this sharp pain go up my neck and I couldn’t move it. I’m in a lot of pain today and had to come home after a couple of work meetings this morning. I hope it passes as I don’t feel well at all.


I don’t really know what life I am meant to lead. I do try and be a good citizen. I lead a pretty average life. I guess I am different. No kids. Same sex attracted. A boxer. But I’m a professional, I’m just one of those women who likes to keep fit and achieve things, yet I feel like I have achieved nothing.

It’s been seven years since I’ve been sober and life had changed so dramatically. I pissed away my 20s, I was in such high alert, fear and repressed trauma. I can’t remember being able to think for myself, but my partner at the time, she was very intelligent, we conversed a lot so I must have had things to say. It began to erode. I still feel sadness about my past but it has shifted somewhat. I live less in regret. I’m beginning to accept.

Work is going really well but I am somewhat paranoid in that environment. The more I move up or take on leadership positions, the more I sense there is a target on my back. I do immediately think of God, as in needing His protection and I pray for that. I want to avoid living in fear.

I felt so happy all of today, it has been so long since I have felt so normal and joyous. Connected. Am I waiting for it to shift? What if it doesn’t? That’s good right? In the back of my mind is self doubt. I tell myself I’ve made the past up, the ritual abuse isn’t real, I’m just trying to be cool or like other people. I’m not sure what’s cool about it to be honest but maybe I just want to be special.

So healing is this double edged sword. I’m grateful for it, but it leaves me feeling incomplete and like a liar. A woman who just needed to learn how to function sober. The rest of her history is a big drama that she made up.