January 27, 2014 • 27 mins
Emma shares about DID, journaling, nightmares, lost time, and hearing and seeing others inside.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:08):
Over:
Speaker 2 (00:11):
Welcome to the System Speak Podcast, a podcast about
Dissociative Identity Disorder.If you are new to the podcast,
we recommend starting at thebeginning episodes and listen in
order to hear our story and whatwe have learned through this
endeavor. Current episodes maybe more applicable to longtime
listeners and are likely tocontain more advanced topics,
(00:33):
emotional or other triggeringcontent, and or reference
earlier episodes that providemore context to what we are
currently learning andexperiencing. As always, please
care for yourself during andafter listening to the podcast.
Thank you.
Speaker 1 (01:00):
I don't know if I can do this. It feels too hard. All
of it feels too hard. I woke up,and I've missed three days, half
(01:21):
of this day. There's a note onmy desk that says to just push
this button and talk about whatit's like having DID.
(01:42):
I know my husband talked aboutthe podcast idea, but I don't
really know anything to share,and I don't know what to say,
and it's already prettyembarrassing. Like, I don't mean
any disrespect. I just mean thisis really hard, and I don't
(02:05):
really know how to deal with itor what to say. I don't talk
about it to anyone. I don't haveany friends that know.
My husband knows, but I try notto talk to him about it. He's
(02:26):
never been unkind, and he seemspretty supportive. And he's
actually helped me understand alot about it by just simply sort
of explaining how, like, he's nodifferent. I just have walls
between my parts, he says. Buthe's got all the same parts.
(02:48):
Everybody does. That's what hesays. I just don't remember
mine. I don't know if that'sreally right or how it works,
but it's my starting place, Iguess. I write in my journals.
I have those. I guess I couldtalk about those. They're just
(03:10):
regular notebooks, like spiralnotebooks, the same as my kids
use for school. I can buy themwithout anyone asking questions
because people just think I buythem for my kids. Right?
But I go through two or three aweek. I write them, and I give
(03:30):
them to my therapist. I likeher, but I'm really scared, and
it's hard for me to go. But Ialways feel better after I've
gone, but I don't actuallyremember anything. I know I've
been there, and I feel better,but I don't really remember even
(03:51):
going sometimes.
I think I've only actually seenher twice and not for very long.
And we've been going to see herfor almost a year, every week on
Mondays. So I have thesenotebooks, and I write in them.
(04:16):
Sometimes other people write inthem, I guess. Some of it I can
look at, and some of it I can't.
Some people draw in them.Sometimes there's little kid
drawings. Sometimes there'sscribbles. Sometimes there's
(04:40):
things I can't even look at.Lots of times there's things I
can't even look at.
Here's a whole section that'sclipped off, like, with I don't
know the word for it. Not paperclips, but bigger than that,
(05:01):
like, binder clips, I guess, orsomething. I'm not sure what
they're called. But the pagesare clipped together, which I
guess I mean, it's not a writtenrule, but I assume that means
someone doesn't want anyone tosee, and so I just skip a whole
chunk of the notebook. Sometimesit's just me trying to grasp
(05:24):
what's going on, where I've beenand what I've been doing, where
they've been, what they've beendoing, the others inside.
But I don't like when they saythey're inside of me because I
don't think anyone's inside ofthem or me. I can't see. I can't
(05:45):
even talk about it. It's sohard. It doesn't make sense.
There's not good words inEnglish for how to even describe
it. It makes my head hurt.There's no one inside me that
doesn't make any sense. But Iknow there are others there, but
I'm not inside that. Like, Idon't know.
(06:10):
Sometimes it's boring what Iwrite, and so maybe it's a waste
of her time. She says she readsall of it. And there are times I
wanted to talk about somethingand brought something up, and
she knew what I was talkingabout. So maybe I can believe
her, but it seems like a lot todo. She doesn't I don't pay her
(06:32):
to read it.
She doesn't charge me extra timeto read it. We've had some
really bad therapists before, soI know I'm lucky we found her. I
don't even remember how we foundher. But, like, this page, this
page is just boring. I don'tknow how it helps with anything,
but sometimes it's all I can dojust to stay present.
(06:55):
It just says I was sitting atthe table with piles of papers
around me, and one of thechildren came running in,
shaking me. I don't know what Iwas doing. I don't know why I
couldn't come out of my fog. Ifelt bad and rushed out. The
school bus was there andwouldn't let the children off
until I went out to meet them.
(07:15):
I guess they had been waiting onme. I was embarrassed, but
thanked my daughter that shewoke me up. Like, I know I
wasn't sleeping at the table.That doesn't make sense. But
that's what I wrote aboutbecause that's what it feels
like, like waking up in strangeplaces and waking up in weird
situations or waking up and notknowing where you are or what
(07:38):
you're doing there.
Or even sometimes, I know I'mthere, like, in the kitchen or
trying to do something with thechildren. And all of a sudden,
it's like I'm watching ithappen, but I don't know what
I'm doing. Or I am there, but Ican't remember what I was doing
or what I was trying to do eventhough time didn't go away. I
(08:01):
don't know how to explain it,but sometimes time just goes
away. I don't know.
I don't know. All these pageshave different handwritings. The
(08:28):
ones that I can look at, I'msupposed to be learning who is
who and learning about them, butit's like my brain doesn't
retain the information somehow.Like, I should know this
handwriting goes with thisperson, but I can't keep it in
me. Like, I can't remember.
And when I try to read it,everything just gets blurry, and
(08:49):
I can't. And then I don'tremember what I read. I think
there's something wrong with me.It feels so crazy sometimes or
like I'm stupid or somethingexcept, like, who's not
intelligent enough to read thewords on the page if you know
how to read? I I know how toread.
I just I just can't. SometimesSometimes it's just about other
(09:35):
things or trying to figure outwhat is right. Like, this is
from last week or the weekbefore. I'm not even sure. But
it says, I want to put up theChristmas tree, but I guess it's
still too soon.
Also, only the decorations arepulled out. The Christmas tree
is in a box in the garage, and Ican't go in there to get it out.
(09:57):
And my husband has been sick.Like, why can't I go in the
garage? I don't even understand.
It's not a big deal. I just needto go ahead and get the box. I
just need to go get the box, butit was, like, two weeks. I
couldn't do it. I just couldn'tdo it.
I don't know why. Like, I'm notdepressed exactly. I mean, I'm
(10:23):
frustrated, and I'm exhausted,But I just it wasn't about
motivation. I don't know how toexplain it. It was just too
much.
I couldn't do it. I don't knowwhy. Sometimes I try to write
about my dreams, but that'shard. My dreams are so weird.
Like, I think there's somethingseriously wrong with me.
(10:48):
This page from last week and theweekend, maybe the weekend
before, I don't know, it says, Iwas standing in front of an open
door. Well, it kind of openeditself. That part was creepy,
but I did not feel afraid. I wasanxious, but not scared. Behind
(11:10):
me was a long hallway with roomsoff on each side.
It was dark there, and I knew Ididn't want to go that way.
Ahead of me was a flight ofwooden stairs, and I could see a
little bit of light from awindow. Like, it was like a
skylight, but at night, notbright. The window was not a
fancy one, just flat panes on aslanted roof. I've had this
(11:34):
dream before, but this time, Iclimbed the stairs and went up.
I don't know why this time wasdifferent. I could feel the
sound the stairs made, but Icould not hear it. I could feel
with my fingers the wood slattedwall as I went up. I could smell
the air. It was unpleasant andstung a bit like dust and stale
(11:57):
urine.
I don't know how to describe it.Cats uncared for, maybe. I don't
like the smell of cats, and itreminded me of this. But cats
are so sweet. I don't know whythat I can't handle the smell,
but there were no cats in thedream.
From the window, I could seefields. There were cows and
horses in a faraway house. Thehouse had a swing set. There
(12:21):
were trees like woods in thecountry to the right. The land
dipped down like a small valleybefore going back up to the
other land with the cows to theleft.
I was taking all this in andabout to turn back to the room
and see what I could see whensomeone from behind me came and
startled me so badly I screamed.But it was just my daughter
(12:43):
waking me up from my dreams andcrawling into my bed for the
morning. I was so disoriented,and it took me a while to wake
up. So see, I can't even finishmy dreams. Maybe that's because
of parenting, though.
I don't know. Sometimes I don'teven know what to write in my
(13:08):
journals, so I just writequotes. I really like the book.
There's a book I like. I've hadit for a long time.
It's very marked up, and all thepages are written on and
highlighted and marked up. It'sone of those books, but maybe my
favorite book of all time. Maybemy bible, I guess you would say.
(13:29):
Like, it's scripture to me. It'ssacred.
It's a text. Like, I don't knowhow to explain it, but it's
called women who run with thewolves by Clarissa Pincola
Estes. And so here's a quotefrom that book. It says, while
the sides of a woman's naturerepresent separate entities with
(13:50):
different functions anddiscriminate knowledge, they
must have a knowing or atranslation of one another to
function as a whole. If a womanhides one part or favors another
part too much, she lives alopsided life which does not
give her access to her entirepower.
This is not good. And then itsays later in that same chapter,
(14:16):
this is from chapter four, itsays, the loss of a woman's
psychological, emotional, andspiritual powers comes from
separating these parts from oneanother and pretending the
others don't exist. Starvedcreatures often lose their
memory of what they were about.So, like, I feel like those are
(14:38):
powerful quotes. They reflect tome some of what I've talked
about in therapy or in myjournals or I'm trying to think
about on my own even if I'm notgood at remembering what happens
in therapy.
But, also, even those just feellike just beyond my grasp. Like,
I start to see what it means,and then it just slips through
my fingers like time justslipping through my fingers like
(15:01):
sand. I don't know how else todescribe it. Oh, this was this
was a new thing that happenedjust at the end of last week.
For the first time, I heard twovoices distinct and clear, not
(15:24):
just noise in my head.
And then, like someone turningon the lights, I saw them
standing there across from mewatching the children. One was
taller with glasses and aponytail, and one was older with
shorter hair. They were notthere before, and I knew that
they were the others. They weretalking about the children and
(15:45):
shame and connection. Thewounded boy came running to me
crying, but the older onestepped forward and intervened
before he got to me.
The one with glasses and aponytail coached her through it,
and it was amazing. I just stoodthere watching. So that's just
(16:06):
what I wrote because it's whathappened, but I don't know what
it means or if it counts. Doesthat count as therapy? Is it
worth writing?
Sometimes I can write questionsfor my therapist too. I wrote,
is that a hallucination? I don'tknow what happened, and I don't
(16:27):
know if seeing them for thefirst time means I'm getting
better or if I'm getting sicker.I just feel crazy all the time.
I don't know if I'm getting anybetter or not.
And if I am getting better, Idon't even know how to measure
that. Like, how can you tell?Who who decides what better is?
What does that mean? What doesit look like?
(16:50):
What do I have to do to make ithappen? Here's a quote I wrote
from an Adrian Rich poem. She'sa poet, a writer. It says, since
I was a child trying on athousand faces, I have wanted
(17:11):
one thing, to know simply as Iknow my name at any given moment
where I stand. Here's anotherone she wrote.
But we have different voices,even in sleep, the past echoing
through our bloodstreams. Andthis is she with whom I tried to
(17:33):
speak, whose hurt, expressivehead, turning aside from pain,
is dragged down deeper where itcannot hear me. And soon I shall
know I was talking to my ownsoul. Here's one. This doesn't
(17:59):
happen very often, but thishere's one where it's like
somebody wrote me back.
Like, I wrote, I don't know ifwe work today or not. How do I
tell? Because sometimes I cantell that we got up early to
work because we have the watchthat shows, like, what our sleep
patterns was, so I know if I wasawake in the night or what time
I went to sleep and if I stayedasleep and what time I got up or
(18:23):
not. Or if I was wanderingaround the house in the night, I
know it because the steps arecounted. And so, like, I try to
track it and I try to payattention, but sometimes I don't
know.
And that night, the watch wascharging, so I didn't have the
watch on. And I slept to adifferent time, and so just
little things like that threw meoff really easily because I
(18:46):
don't know what's happened to myday or or what I need to do or
not do or how to do it. So Iwrote that down just to ask my
therapist in session. But thensomebody wrote me back, like, in
a completely differenthandwriting, and I don't
remember writing it. And it'snot my husband's writing.
When I said, how do I tell? Hewrote back. It just says, ask
(19:08):
me. We did. I worked.
I'm finished until Tuesday, butwe have to give a talk and you
need to look at the notes aboutthe podcast. But I didn't know
about the podcast yet, so Ididn't know what notes they were
talking about or what to do whensomebody wrote me back. Like, I
(19:31):
don't know. It was disturbing.And then more about your dream.
Right now, I keep having thesedreams about a house. This says,
I dreamed I was in a house. Itwas dark, but I was not afraid.
It was dark like dusk, not likenight. I knew the family was not
(19:53):
home, but it was filthy there.
There was a foyer where I wasstanding and a living room where
the ones I saw the other daywere standing. One was talking
to the other like giving them atour. The kitchen was in the
back and horrifying. And by thefoyer, there were stairs that
went up and stairs that wentdown. I saw a small child at the
(20:16):
end of the downstairs hall, butshe ran to hide as soon as she
saw me see her.
I did not want to scare her, soI did not go down the stairs.
When I turned to look at theother stairs, a boy with a black
eye was sitting at the top ofthe stairs. He smiled and waved,
but before I could talk to him,I heard the other adult there
that say something to the otherone that I moved to see what
(20:40):
they were looking at. But that'swhen she woke me up, and I can't
remember what I saw. So I guessI don't don't even know.
Just trying to put piecestogether, I guess. Don't know if
this matters to anyone. And andthere's lots of different kind
(21:08):
of drawings. Some of them arejust children's drawings. Some
of them are really good.
Sometimes there's paintings. Ican't paint. I can't sketch and
draw. Like, some of thesedrawings, I don't know if I
could even draw as well as thekids' drawings that are in here.
Sometimes it's markers.
Sometimes it's crayon. Sometimesit's just scribbling. We there
(21:29):
are a bunch of pens. Like, wehave pens that are different
colored pens, and some of themalways write with the same pen,
and some of them like to usedifferent ones. And I don't know
that it means anything.
Some of it's scary. Here's thatwhole page that's talking about
NTIS and explaining about nowtime is safe. So, like, I
(21:55):
learned that because I saw it onmy hand for three weeks. I had
Sharpie on my hand that everytime I almost got rid of it, it
came back again. And I don'tknow, I guess, one of the others
writing on there, but I don'tknow why or how to make them
stop.
But then I learned from thenotebook, I guess, it was
something that was helpingsomebody. But, like, how does
(22:17):
that work? And my experience isjust that I keep trying to wipe
this marker off my hand, and itwon't go away. So it can just be
so confusing, but I'm trying. Idon't know.
And then today, here's what Iwrote today. I can share this, I
(22:40):
guess, because it's like whatwe're talking about, those other
dreams from last week, mommy.Because I have really bad
dreams. Like, they're terrible.Sometimes I'm not even asleep
when they happen.
I don't know how to explain it.But here's what I wrote this
morning. Oh, not this morning.This well, this morning, like
(23:02):
like, it was nighttime aftermidnight, like, two in the
morning. Okay?
It says, I had horrible dreams.I woke up on the floor curled up
and too scared to move. It tookme an hour almost just to get
across the room to the notebook.My hands are shaking. I can't
(23:25):
breathe.
My heart is pounding out of mychest. I have this strong
feeling to tell you about mydream, not just defending or
because I want to or it'sinteresting, but it's more like
an urge, like a need, likesomeone else's need. I don't
know how to explain it. But,also, at the same time, I am
afraid. It makes me feel smalland scared.
(23:48):
Also, the dreams themselves arenot appropriate. My dreams are
always nightmares. They'reviolent. They're grotesque.
They're horrific.
I won't watch movies or TV, andstill it happens. I feel so bad,
even guilty, for the terribleperson I am to have such dreams,
and I don't dare write themdown. Sometimes it's like one
(24:09):
bad movie, one long story, startto finish, a nightmare I can't
wake up from as it plays outworse and worse and just
escalates. It doesn't stop untilI wake up screaming and have to
throw up and lay there shakingand afraid. It takes me a long
time to recover from those.
Other times, my dreams are liketangled threads of different
(24:31):
colors, like watching a hundredmovies on a hundred screens all
at once, except someone keepschanging the channel, so I can't
make sense of any of it. Theseare less scary but more
overwhelming, and I'm startledto wake, stressed and anxious
and confused when I finally do.Sometimes there are only
(24:52):
flashes. This happens even whenI'm awake, out of context, and
terrifying, like someonethrowing pictures up in my
faces. Or sounds.
Sometimes it happens with soundsor even smells. It's a cruel
torture, these flashes, and theystartle me and frighten me.
Sometimes they're just random,or sometimes a lot happens in a
(25:13):
row, like an old flipbook, orsometimes it's the same one over
and over. Sometimes it's oneslowly that fades in, and the
more I look, the more hypnoticit becomes. Sometimes there are
many of them quickly startlingme, leaving me dizzy and
spinning and knocking me offbalance.
Always, they are unwanted andviolating and disturbing,
(25:36):
graphic and frightening andsickening. And even after they
are gone or I wake up, theirshadow lingers over me, haunting
me. This is almost worse thaneven losing time. Losing time is
disorienting. Not knowing whereI am is scary.
Not knowing or being able toguess what I was doing or saying
(25:56):
is embarrassing. Not being ableto find anything is frustrating.
Not knowing about my husband andchildren while I am gone is
worrying, but the dreams andflashes are terrifying. All of
it makes me feel crazy, but thedreams and flashes make me feel
bad. The voices and chatter isconfusing, but has always been
(26:18):
there.
And you say you know thoseothers and trust them, and they
are safe and good. But thenightmares and flashes are not
good. I don't know. That's whereI am today. I don't know if that
helps or if journaling it outloud on this makes a difference.
I don't I don't know, but that'sall I can do. That's all I can
(26:41):
try. Thanks. I do appreciate thepeople in the groups or online
who have been so supportive andhelpful and contacted me or
listened to me as I'm trying tosort things out or been patient
(27:03):
with the others. I guess whoknows so much more than me.
It's like I can only process somuch, but finding others who
understand or are willing tolisten, it really helps, and I
appreciate that. Thanks, guys.
Speaker 2 (27:26):
Thank you for listening. Your support really
helps us feel less alone whilewe sort through all of this and
learn together.
Over:
Speaker 2 (00:11):
Welcome to the System Speak Podcast, a podcast about
Dissociative Identity Disorder.If you are new to the podcast,
we recommend starting at thebeginning episodes and listen in
order to hear our story and whatwe have learned through this
endeavor. Current episodes maybe more applicable to longtime
listeners and are likely tocontain more advanced topics,
(00:33):
emotional or other triggeringcontent, and or reference
earlier episodes that providemore context to what we are
currently learning andexperiencing. As always, please
care for yourself during andafter listening to the podcast.
Thank you.
Speaker 1 (01:00):
I don't know if I can do this. It feels too hard. All
of it feels too hard. I woke up,and I've missed three days, half
(01:21):
of this day. There's a note onmy desk that says to just push
this button and talk about whatit's like having DID.
(01:42):
I know my husband talked aboutthe podcast idea, but I don't
really know anything to share,and I don't know what to say,
and it's already prettyembarrassing. Like, I don't mean
any disrespect. I just mean thisis really hard, and I don't
(02:05):
really know how to deal with itor what to say. I don't talk
about it to anyone. I don't haveany friends that know.
My husband knows, but I try notto talk to him about it. He's
(02:26):
never been unkind, and he seemspretty supportive. And he's
actually helped me understand alot about it by just simply sort
of explaining how, like, he's nodifferent. I just have walls
between my parts, he says. Buthe's got all the same parts.
(02:48):
Everybody does. That's what hesays. I just don't remember
mine. I don't know if that'sreally right or how it works,
but it's my starting place, Iguess. I write in my journals.
I have those. I guess I couldtalk about those. They're just
(03:10):
regular notebooks, like spiralnotebooks, the same as my kids
use for school. I can buy themwithout anyone asking questions
because people just think I buythem for my kids. Right?
But I go through two or three aweek. I write them, and I give
(03:30):
them to my therapist. I likeher, but I'm really scared, and
it's hard for me to go. But Ialways feel better after I've
gone, but I don't actuallyremember anything. I know I've
been there, and I feel better,but I don't really remember even
(03:51):
going sometimes.
I think I've only actually seenher twice and not for very long.
And we've been going to see herfor almost a year, every week on
Mondays. So I have thesenotebooks, and I write in them.
(04:16):
Sometimes other people write inthem, I guess. Some of it I can
look at, and some of it I can't.
Some people draw in them.Sometimes there's little kid
drawings. Sometimes there'sscribbles. Sometimes there's
(04:40):
things I can't even look at.Lots of times there's things I
can't even look at.
Here's a whole section that'sclipped off, like, with I don't
know the word for it. Not paperclips, but bigger than that,
(05:01):
like, binder clips, I guess, orsomething. I'm not sure what
they're called. But the pagesare clipped together, which I
guess I mean, it's not a writtenrule, but I assume that means
someone doesn't want anyone tosee, and so I just skip a whole
chunk of the notebook. Sometimesit's just me trying to grasp
(05:24):
what's going on, where I've beenand what I've been doing, where
they've been, what they've beendoing, the others inside.
But I don't like when they saythey're inside of me because I
don't think anyone's inside ofthem or me. I can't see. I can't
(05:45):
even talk about it. It's sohard. It doesn't make sense.
There's not good words inEnglish for how to even describe
it. It makes my head hurt.There's no one inside me that
doesn't make any sense. But Iknow there are others there, but
I'm not inside that. Like, Idon't know.
(06:10):
Sometimes it's boring what Iwrite, and so maybe it's a waste
of her time. She says she readsall of it. And there are times I
wanted to talk about somethingand brought something up, and
she knew what I was talkingabout. So maybe I can believe
her, but it seems like a lot todo. She doesn't I don't pay her
(06:32):
to read it.
She doesn't charge me extra timeto read it. We've had some
really bad therapists before, soI know I'm lucky we found her. I
don't even remember how we foundher. But, like, this page, this
page is just boring. I don'tknow how it helps with anything,
but sometimes it's all I can dojust to stay present.
(06:55):
It just says I was sitting atthe table with piles of papers
around me, and one of thechildren came running in,
shaking me. I don't know what Iwas doing. I don't know why I
couldn't come out of my fog. Ifelt bad and rushed out. The
school bus was there andwouldn't let the children off
until I went out to meet them.
(07:15):
I guess they had been waiting onme. I was embarrassed, but
thanked my daughter that shewoke me up. Like, I know I
wasn't sleeping at the table.That doesn't make sense. But
that's what I wrote aboutbecause that's what it feels
like, like waking up in strangeplaces and waking up in weird
situations or waking up and notknowing where you are or what
(07:38):
you're doing there.
Or even sometimes, I know I'mthere, like, in the kitchen or
trying to do something with thechildren. And all of a sudden,
it's like I'm watching ithappen, but I don't know what
I'm doing. Or I am there, but Ican't remember what I was doing
or what I was trying to do eventhough time didn't go away. I
(08:01):
don't know how to explain it,but sometimes time just goes
away. I don't know.
I don't know. All these pageshave different handwritings. The
(08:28):
ones that I can look at, I'msupposed to be learning who is
who and learning about them, butit's like my brain doesn't
retain the information somehow.Like, I should know this
handwriting goes with thisperson, but I can't keep it in
me. Like, I can't remember.
And when I try to read it,everything just gets blurry, and
(08:49):
I can't. And then I don'tremember what I read. I think
there's something wrong with me.It feels so crazy sometimes or
like I'm stupid or somethingexcept, like, who's not
intelligent enough to read thewords on the page if you know
how to read? I I know how toread.
I just I just can't. SometimesSometimes it's just about other
(09:35):
things or trying to figure outwhat is right. Like, this is
from last week or the weekbefore. I'm not even sure. But
it says, I want to put up theChristmas tree, but I guess it's
still too soon.
Also, only the decorations arepulled out. The Christmas tree
is in a box in the garage, and Ican't go in there to get it out.
(09:57):
And my husband has been sick.Like, why can't I go in the
garage? I don't even understand.
It's not a big deal. I just needto go ahead and get the box. I
just need to go get the box, butit was, like, two weeks. I
couldn't do it. I just couldn'tdo it.
I don't know why. Like, I'm notdepressed exactly. I mean, I'm
(10:23):
frustrated, and I'm exhausted,But I just it wasn't about
motivation. I don't know how toexplain it. It was just too
much.
I couldn't do it. I don't knowwhy. Sometimes I try to write
about my dreams, but that'shard. My dreams are so weird.
Like, I think there's somethingseriously wrong with me.
(10:48):
This page from last week and theweekend, maybe the weekend
before, I don't know, it says, Iwas standing in front of an open
door. Well, it kind of openeditself. That part was creepy,
but I did not feel afraid. I wasanxious, but not scared. Behind
(11:10):
me was a long hallway with roomsoff on each side.
It was dark there, and I knew Ididn't want to go that way.
Ahead of me was a flight ofwooden stairs, and I could see a
little bit of light from awindow. Like, it was like a
skylight, but at night, notbright. The window was not a
fancy one, just flat panes on aslanted roof. I've had this
(11:34):
dream before, but this time, Iclimbed the stairs and went up.
I don't know why this time wasdifferent. I could feel the
sound the stairs made, but Icould not hear it. I could feel
with my fingers the wood slattedwall as I went up. I could smell
the air. It was unpleasant andstung a bit like dust and stale
(11:57):
urine.
I don't know how to describe it.Cats uncared for, maybe. I don't
like the smell of cats, and itreminded me of this. But cats
are so sweet. I don't know whythat I can't handle the smell,
but there were no cats in thedream.
From the window, I could seefields. There were cows and
horses in a faraway house. Thehouse had a swing set. There
(12:21):
were trees like woods in thecountry to the right. The land
dipped down like a small valleybefore going back up to the
other land with the cows to theleft.
I was taking all this in andabout to turn back to the room
and see what I could see whensomeone from behind me came and
startled me so badly I screamed.But it was just my daughter
(12:43):
waking me up from my dreams andcrawling into my bed for the
morning. I was so disoriented,and it took me a while to wake
up. So see, I can't even finishmy dreams. Maybe that's because
of parenting, though.
I don't know. Sometimes I don'teven know what to write in my
(13:08):
journals, so I just writequotes. I really like the book.
There's a book I like. I've hadit for a long time.
It's very marked up, and all thepages are written on and
highlighted and marked up. It'sone of those books, but maybe my
favorite book of all time. Maybemy bible, I guess you would say.
(13:29):
Like, it's scripture to me. It'ssacred.
It's a text. Like, I don't knowhow to explain it, but it's
called women who run with thewolves by Clarissa Pincola
Estes. And so here's a quotefrom that book. It says, while
the sides of a woman's naturerepresent separate entities with
(13:50):
different functions anddiscriminate knowledge, they
must have a knowing or atranslation of one another to
function as a whole. If a womanhides one part or favors another
part too much, she lives alopsided life which does not
give her access to her entirepower.
This is not good. And then itsays later in that same chapter,
(14:16):
this is from chapter four, itsays, the loss of a woman's
psychological, emotional, andspiritual powers comes from
separating these parts from oneanother and pretending the
others don't exist. Starvedcreatures often lose their
memory of what they were about.So, like, I feel like those are
(14:38):
powerful quotes. They reflect tome some of what I've talked
about in therapy or in myjournals or I'm trying to think
about on my own even if I'm notgood at remembering what happens
in therapy.
But, also, even those just feellike just beyond my grasp. Like,
I start to see what it means,and then it just slips through
my fingers like time justslipping through my fingers like
(15:01):
sand. I don't know how else todescribe it. Oh, this was this
was a new thing that happenedjust at the end of last week.
For the first time, I heard twovoices distinct and clear, not
(15:24):
just noise in my head.
And then, like someone turningon the lights, I saw them
standing there across from mewatching the children. One was
taller with glasses and aponytail, and one was older with
shorter hair. They were notthere before, and I knew that
they were the others. They weretalking about the children and
(15:45):
shame and connection. Thewounded boy came running to me
crying, but the older onestepped forward and intervened
before he got to me.
The one with glasses and aponytail coached her through it,
and it was amazing. I just stoodthere watching. So that's just
(16:06):
what I wrote because it's whathappened, but I don't know what
it means or if it counts. Doesthat count as therapy? Is it
worth writing?
Sometimes I can write questionsfor my therapist too. I wrote,
is that a hallucination? I don'tknow what happened, and I don't
(16:27):
know if seeing them for thefirst time means I'm getting
better or if I'm getting sicker.I just feel crazy all the time.
I don't know if I'm getting anybetter or not.
And if I am getting better, Idon't even know how to measure
that. Like, how can you tell?Who who decides what better is?
What does that mean? What doesit look like?
(16:50):
What do I have to do to make ithappen? Here's a quote I wrote
from an Adrian Rich poem. She'sa poet, a writer. It says, since
I was a child trying on athousand faces, I have wanted
(17:11):
one thing, to know simply as Iknow my name at any given moment
where I stand. Here's anotherone she wrote.
But we have different voices,even in sleep, the past echoing
through our bloodstreams. Andthis is she with whom I tried to
(17:33):
speak, whose hurt, expressivehead, turning aside from pain,
is dragged down deeper where itcannot hear me. And soon I shall
know I was talking to my ownsoul. Here's one. This doesn't
(17:59):
happen very often, but thishere's one where it's like
somebody wrote me back.
Like, I wrote, I don't know ifwe work today or not. How do I
tell? Because sometimes I cantell that we got up early to
work because we have the watchthat shows, like, what our sleep
patterns was, so I know if I wasawake in the night or what time
I went to sleep and if I stayedasleep and what time I got up or
(18:23):
not. Or if I was wanderingaround the house in the night, I
know it because the steps arecounted. And so, like, I try to
track it and I try to payattention, but sometimes I don't
know.
And that night, the watch wascharging, so I didn't have the
watch on. And I slept to adifferent time, and so just
little things like that threw meoff really easily because I
(18:46):
don't know what's happened to myday or or what I need to do or
not do or how to do it. So Iwrote that down just to ask my
therapist in session. But thensomebody wrote me back, like, in
a completely differenthandwriting, and I don't
remember writing it. And it'snot my husband's writing.
When I said, how do I tell? Hewrote back. It just says, ask
(19:08):
me. We did. I worked.
I'm finished until Tuesday, butwe have to give a talk and you
need to look at the notes aboutthe podcast. But I didn't know
about the podcast yet, so Ididn't know what notes they were
talking about or what to do whensomebody wrote me back. Like, I
(19:31):
don't know. It was disturbing.And then more about your dream.
Right now, I keep having thesedreams about a house. This says,
I dreamed I was in a house. Itwas dark, but I was not afraid.
It was dark like dusk, not likenight. I knew the family was not
(19:53):
home, but it was filthy there.
There was a foyer where I wasstanding and a living room where
the ones I saw the other daywere standing. One was talking
to the other like giving them atour. The kitchen was in the
back and horrifying. And by thefoyer, there were stairs that
went up and stairs that wentdown. I saw a small child at the
(20:16):
end of the downstairs hall, butshe ran to hide as soon as she
saw me see her.
I did not want to scare her, soI did not go down the stairs.
When I turned to look at theother stairs, a boy with a black
eye was sitting at the top ofthe stairs. He smiled and waved,
but before I could talk to him,I heard the other adult there
that say something to the otherone that I moved to see what
(20:40):
they were looking at. But that'swhen she woke me up, and I can't
remember what I saw. So I guessI don't don't even know.
Just trying to put piecestogether, I guess. Don't know if
this matters to anyone. And andthere's lots of different kind
(21:08):
of drawings. Some of them arejust children's drawings. Some
of them are really good.
Sometimes there's paintings. Ican't paint. I can't sketch and
draw. Like, some of thesedrawings, I don't know if I
could even draw as well as thekids' drawings that are in here.
Sometimes it's markers.
Sometimes it's crayon. Sometimesit's just scribbling. We there
(21:29):
are a bunch of pens. Like, wehave pens that are different
colored pens, and some of themalways write with the same pen,
and some of them like to usedifferent ones. And I don't know
that it means anything.
Some of it's scary. Here's thatwhole page that's talking about
NTIS and explaining about nowtime is safe. So, like, I
(21:55):
learned that because I saw it onmy hand for three weeks. I had
Sharpie on my hand that everytime I almost got rid of it, it
came back again. And I don'tknow, I guess, one of the others
writing on there, but I don'tknow why or how to make them
stop.
But then I learned from thenotebook, I guess, it was
something that was helpingsomebody. But, like, how does
(22:17):
that work? And my experience isjust that I keep trying to wipe
this marker off my hand, and itwon't go away. So it can just be
so confusing, but I'm trying. Idon't know.
And then today, here's what Iwrote today. I can share this, I
(22:40):
guess, because it's like whatwe're talking about, those other
dreams from last week, mommy.Because I have really bad
dreams. Like, they're terrible.Sometimes I'm not even asleep
when they happen.
I don't know how to explain it.But here's what I wrote this
morning. Oh, not this morning.This well, this morning, like
(23:02):
like, it was nighttime aftermidnight, like, two in the
morning. Okay?
It says, I had horrible dreams.I woke up on the floor curled up
and too scared to move. It tookme an hour almost just to get
across the room to the notebook.My hands are shaking. I can't
(23:25):
breathe.
My heart is pounding out of mychest. I have this strong
feeling to tell you about mydream, not just defending or
because I want to or it'sinteresting, but it's more like
an urge, like a need, likesomeone else's need. I don't
know how to explain it. But,also, at the same time, I am
afraid. It makes me feel smalland scared.
(23:48):
Also, the dreams themselves arenot appropriate. My dreams are
always nightmares. They'reviolent. They're grotesque.
They're horrific.
I won't watch movies or TV, andstill it happens. I feel so bad,
even guilty, for the terribleperson I am to have such dreams,
and I don't dare write themdown. Sometimes it's like one
(24:09):
bad movie, one long story, startto finish, a nightmare I can't
wake up from as it plays outworse and worse and just
escalates. It doesn't stop untilI wake up screaming and have to
throw up and lay there shakingand afraid. It takes me a long
time to recover from those.
Other times, my dreams are liketangled threads of different
(24:31):
colors, like watching a hundredmovies on a hundred screens all
at once, except someone keepschanging the channel, so I can't
make sense of any of it. Theseare less scary but more
overwhelming, and I'm startledto wake, stressed and anxious
and confused when I finally do.Sometimes there are only
(24:52):
flashes. This happens even whenI'm awake, out of context, and
terrifying, like someonethrowing pictures up in my
faces. Or sounds.
Sometimes it happens with soundsor even smells. It's a cruel
torture, these flashes, and theystartle me and frighten me.
Sometimes they're just random,or sometimes a lot happens in a
(25:13):
row, like an old flipbook, orsometimes it's the same one over
and over. Sometimes it's oneslowly that fades in, and the
more I look, the more hypnoticit becomes. Sometimes there are
many of them quickly startlingme, leaving me dizzy and
spinning and knocking me offbalance.
Always, they are unwanted andviolating and disturbing,
(25:36):
graphic and frightening andsickening. And even after they
are gone or I wake up, theirshadow lingers over me, haunting
me. This is almost worse thaneven losing time. Losing time is
disorienting. Not knowing whereI am is scary.
Not knowing or being able toguess what I was doing or saying
(25:56):
is embarrassing. Not being ableto find anything is frustrating.
Not knowing about my husband andchildren while I am gone is
worrying, but the dreams andflashes are terrifying. All of
it makes me feel crazy, but thedreams and flashes make me feel
bad. The voices and chatter isconfusing, but has always been
(26:18):
there.
And you say you know thoseothers and trust them, and they
are safe and good. But thenightmares and flashes are not
good. I don't know. That's whereI am today. I don't know if that
helps or if journaling it outloud on this makes a difference.
I don't I don't know, but that'sall I can do. That's all I can
(26:41):
try. Thanks. I do appreciate thepeople in the groups or online
who have been so supportive andhelpful and contacted me or
listened to me as I'm trying tosort things out or been patient
(27:03):
with the others. I guess whoknows so much more than me.
It's like I can only process somuch, but finding others who
understand or are willing tolisten, it really helps, and I
appreciate that. Thanks, guys.
Speaker 2 (27:26):
Thank you for listening. Your support really
helps us feel less alone whilewe sort through all of this and
learn together.
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