tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17568048683551980972024-02-19T04:36:19.575-05:00Silenced No LongerDissociative Identity Disorder (DID) Blog~I am learning I have a VOICE...I can be Silenced No Longer...I am on a journey to self-acknowledgement. I invite you to join me on my journey.Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-21868620720556618922014-02-01T23:58:00.001-05:002014-02-03T18:24:12.957-05:00The State of DenialDenial is defined as:<div>~the action of declaring something to be untrue</div><div>In psychology it is defined as:</div><div>~failure to acknowledge an unacceptable truth or emotion or to admit it into consciousness, used as a defense mechanism</div><div><br></div><div>So I propose a question:</div><div>~Why do people live in denial?</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Today I went to visit a relative, my grandmother. (Prefaced, She lives in an assisted living home and is not in a right state of mind.) When I walk into her room, she is asleep. I walk up to her and gently tap her; to which she responds "More pills?" </div><div>She does not recognize me, confusing me with a nurse. I do have to tell her who I am. She is overcome with joy to see me. </div><div>We talk for a little while and then we decide to go to breakfast. At breakfast we laugh and have a good time. </div><div>She occasionally mentions my mom, her daughter. She states that her daughter has only came to visit her once in the year she has been living in the assisted living home. </div><div>As our visit progresses, her mention of my mother increases. </div><div>She tells me that my mother took care of me and loved me. She tells me that my mother took me to church where two men watched me. After a few "visits" with these men, I begin crying when I see them and don't want to be around them, so my mother takes me out of that church. To which I tell her that is a lie because we were in that church until I was 9 years old. </div><div>Then she drops her denial bombshell:</div><div>"Do you remember what all you told us last year about what happened to you? I just don't believe your mother did that to you. She is your mother and she loves you."</div><div>She even tells me "I wish I had remembered, while we were out, and you could have taken me to her house."</div><div>*~*At this moment, my heart sinks into my belly*~*</div><div>My Thoughts At That Moment...</div><div><b><i>{Wow! Really? After everything she has done in the past few months, you think I'M the liar?!</i></b></div><div><b><i>Inside I'm hurt and I'm infuriated! Another person to disappoint me! This is the reason Vickie said don't tell. No one will believe you. Even the men who abused me told me that.}</i></b></div><div>I continue to conversate with her. </div><div>She will bring up my mother some. One time even saying she wished I had taken her to my mom's house so she could visit. To which I am dumbfounded, and get mad, stating she is crazy if she thinks I am going anywhere near my mom's house. I fuss at her, as if she was a child asking a ridiculous question.</div><div>We talk some more. </div><div>However, before she speaks, I always say "If this isn't a happy thing, I don't want to hear it."</div><div>She listens to my warnings, mostly. </div><div>I do her nails and then we lay together and take a nap. </div><div>When we wake up, I get ready to go and she says, "Please listen to me. Don't let your mother die alone. She's alone. Don't be mean to her like she was to you."</div><div>I kiss her on the head and tell her (with a smile), "she will die alone. She is mean."</div><div>With this, I kiss her again and leave. </div><div><br></div><div>Driving home I can't forget what she said. Contemplating if I should even see her ever again. Those words resounding in my head. </div><div>I call my uncle and jovially discuss my time with her. Then I question him about her statement. He says he knows because she has told him that same thing before as well. </div><div>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</div><div>The day continues, but I am continuously hearing those words "I don't believe you". </div><div>Doc says "use logic. What she says you can't believe. She has Alzheimer's and dementia. She thought you were a nurse when you showed up. She isn't in her right mind."</div><div>All of this is true but I'm still affected. </div><div>Someone asks me "why does it matter if she believes you? It doesn't change anything." </div><div>This person is right. It doesn't change anything. So why am I affected. </div><div><br></div><div>Then I realize....</div><div><div><i>It's like abuse all over again. </i></div><div><i>So the abuser (my mom n the male) say "no one will ever believe you" the victim (me) believes which is why the victim stays silent. </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>When I was 15 my grandma asked me if my mom's boyfriend was abusing me. For the first time in my life I lied to my grandma and said no. I was too afraid to tell the truth. I sometimes wonder "what if I would have told the truth. What might have been the outcome"</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Even though it's over. Long gone and done. </i></div><div><i>Her saying she doesn't believe me makes me think....would she have believed me at age 15? Would I still have been allowed to get in that vehicle with him....so he could squeeze my thighs, rub between my legs, make me scoot over closer to him so he could put his hand down my pants and touch me skin-to-skin, telling me how good it feels and asking if I liked it? </i></div></div><div><i>Or would I have been taken away and my life changed and someone believe me?</i></div><div><br></div><div>Who knows what would have happened? What if's and what would have's are questions that should never be asked because they are questions that could NEVER be answered. </div><div>You never TRULY know what you would do unless you are faced with the exact situation. </div><div>So asking myself these questions and focusing on these what if's is a HUGE waste of time. </div><div>I can NEVER know the answer. It's in the past. </div><div>Stay in the present and look toward the future! </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I realize I am the only one that can help me. I am the only one that can pick myself up and go on. </div><div><div>I was angry bu<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">t I wasn't staying down. I was defending myself. </span></div><div><br></div><div>I'm an adult, I will stand up for myself, and I won't take abuse. I will pick myself up. </div><div><br></div><div>I am the girls' only advocate. </div><div>But I'm also MY OWN advocate. </div><div>If I don't stand up for me, who will?</div><div>If I don't pick myself up when I'm down, who will? </div><div><br></div><div>I can't advocate for the girls, if I can't even do it for myself</div><div>The responsibility ultimately falls on me. It's my job! </div><div>No one will hold me down again! </div><div><br></div></div><div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Head up. </div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Chest out. </div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Carry on. </div></div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Jaz</div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">*~*To answer my question from the beginning: </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Why do people live in denial?*~*</span></div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The truth is, I have no clue and could not imagine why people would live in denial. However,</div><div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><b><i><u>{Her denial of any abuse that my mother purposefully inflicted upon me is probably due to her mind. She can't remember things clearly now. Also, it is shock and dismay that causes her denial. She knows that her and my mother are on their death beds and she is attempting to "patch things up". But I REFUSE to live in denial. This is inappropriate and enables abuse. Which I REFUSE to allow happen to me again!}</u></i></b></div>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-17701176372058814972013-11-23T00:35:00.001-05:002013-11-23T00:35:03.790-05:00ThinkingJust as the abuse in the home, that was condoned and forced, was never spoken of. It was just a known fact and sat in the room like a big purple elephant. <div><br></div><div>So is the reason I was forced to watch certain TV shows. Forced to watch wildlife shows about killer animals, as I cried, she laughed. Forced to watch real life murder crime shows. Forced to watch shows on rapes. Forced to listen to this continuously, "I know many ways to plan a murder", as she described ways that she would murder "a person" and how she would get away with it. </div><div><br></div><div>It was a way to exert power and fear without actually stating it. She was forcing fear on a her child to stay silent. Keeping her child closer to her, so the child won't stray.</div><div><br></div><div>That child is gone now. An adult has taken her place. </div><div><br></div><div>Jaz</div>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-19696713869108198092013-11-20T17:28:00.001-05:002013-11-20T17:28:24.476-05:00AngerI've been dealing with feelings (or almost no feelings) all week. <div>Anger being one. </div><div><br></div><div>"Depression is anger turned inward." Doc tells me. </div><div>T<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">rying to express my anger in the correct place. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So, I'm fighting turning my anger inward. I'm trying to turn it outward and place it on the person(s) that deserves it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">That's hard because I am mad at myself, the system. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I am mad that I never stood up for myself. I never told anyone. I never ran away from it. I believed lies. I allowed my own abuse to happen. I never fought back. Or if I did, it wasn't hard enough. I didn't try to save myself. Why not? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Why didn't I work harder? Why didn't I fight harder? Why didn't I stand up more? Why didn't I say "no, I will not lie!"? Why didn't I call the police? What stopped me? Why was there so much fear? Why didn't I save myself???</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">All that anger I feel towards me shouldn't be there. That anger should be sadness and tenderness for myself and my system. I do feel heartache and sadness for the others in the system but not for ME! I am the one that suppose to be the savior. That was my job and I let the system down. And for that reason, I am angry. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Don't misunderstand. I am angry at the abusers! I am angry for everything that was done. I am angry for the fear and disfunction that was created.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"> However, I don't think I can fully express/feel THAT anger until I resolve issues with myself. Until I can forgive myself and say and BELIEVE it wasn't my fault and I couldn't have saved myself. That I was a child and the adult(s) that were suppose to protect me didn't. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">I just keep telling myself "I did what I had to, to survive and stay alive."</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">But when will I BELIEVE myself?</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">When will I stop beating myself up? </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Jaz</font></div>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-28541141831315129292013-11-20T08:07:00.001-05:002013-11-20T08:07:20.507-05:00RememberingAs we (my mom, her boyfriend, myself, and my brother) were getting ready for a "family" picture, I was dressing with a very sexual explicit blasting. <div>As it was getting close to time to leave, "I" (Jaz) am no longer around. </div><div>Next thing I remember, we are all in the car, adults in front and kids in back. My mom's boyfriend was mad at me and I was mad as well. </div><div>Tears are streaming down my face-out of fear and anger. </div><div>He is yelling at me while everyone else is quiet in the car. I start talking back and my mom cuts her eyes at me from the front seat, as if to say, "Shut up. You know how he is."</div><div>He tells me that he will "stop the car in the middle of the road, drag me out, and beat my ass if I don't shut up talking back."</div><div>So, me and my wisdom I say something smart. </div><div>He slams on the breaks in the middle of the road, flings the door open, flips the front seat forward, and tells me to get out. </div><div>I sit still refusing to move. Thinking in my head, "if he wants to beat me, he will have to drag me out."</div><div>He stands outside the car for, what feels like 5 mins. Although, I'm sure it was only 30 seconds. </div><div>He continues to run his mouth to me and I sit with my mouth closed. "Don't need any more drama", I think. </div><div><br></div><div>When we get to the place to take "family pictures", they said "Daddy, you can stand in the back." </div><div>I rolled my eyes and my mom laughed. </div><div>Ugh...makes me sick to my stomach!</div><div><br></div><div>Jaz</div>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-13106776090262860292013-11-19T08:18:00.001-05:002013-11-19T08:18:40.995-05:00Note to SelfAs one grows up in a household full of chaos, uncertainty, and disfunction, one believes this behavior is normal and expected in families. <div><br></div><div>Without intervention from the disfunctionality, one grows up and, not purposefully, seeks relationships with those same functions: chaos, uncertainty, and disfunction. Because, as crazy as it sounds, it feels normal and what is accepted and expected. </div><div><br></div><div>So, one, as a grown up, must actively seek relationships that seem "abnormal" but are actually normal. </div><div>A relationship without drama. </div><div>A relationship of love. </div><div>A relationship of commitment. </div><div>A relationship of mutual respect. </div><div>A relationship of mutual and separate interests. </div><div>A relationship of communication. </div><div>A relationship of comfort. </div><div>A relationship of openness. </div><div>A relationship of honesty. </div><div>A relationship of closeness. </div><div>A relationship of togetherness. </div><div><br></div><div>All of this sounds "great" and "wonderful" to one that grew up in a crazy home but it also sounds out of reach. </div><div><br></div><div>But one must strive and reach for this relationship. It is out there. One must have faith and commitment to finding it. </div>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-5742568940101945272013-10-28T20:49:00.000-04:002013-10-28T20:49:30.457-04:00Beginning...Middle...End<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><u><i><b>Where do I begin? </b></i></u></span> </div>
<br />
At the beginning,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
in the middle, </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
at the end? </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li>Do I just blurt it out? </li>
<li>Do I make it a story? </li>
<li>Do I simply state facts? </li>
<li>Do I need to add detail? </li>
<li>Do I even know what I want to say???</li>
</ul>
So, here goes.....<br />
Lately, I don't know what has been happening to me. I feel great, ecstatic, elated and then BOOM I'm out of it. I'm not myself. I'm like a puppet on a string. I can't control myself, my thoughts are random (and aren't mine), and my feelings are off. When I come back (my strings are cut), I am so confused as to what happened and why I was doing things and saying things that made no sense.<br />
<br />
Do you know what I mean? Does that make any sense?<br />
<br />
Think of Pinocchio.....remember when he got caught by the puppeteer? The puppeteer wanted him because he was a REAL, LIVE wooden puppet without strings. But when Pinocchio got on stage the puppeteer started off with Pinocchio on strings and then cut them off to show he could perform without strings...he was a special puppet. This is the way I feel.....<br />
<br />
I am Pinocchio. I am REAL. I am ALIVE. I have NO STRINGS. All is well....<br />
But then something happens, the puppeteer steps in and I feel like I have strings. I am not in control of my thoughts. And, just like Pinocchio, I am AWARE that I am NOT in control but I can't stop it. <br />
Then the puppeteer cuts the strings and I feel better, like myself, but I feel confused...<br />
<ul>
<li>Where did the strings come from?</li>
<li>Why were the strings there?</li>
<li>Who is the puppeteer?</li>
<li>What does the puppeteer want?</li>
<li>Why is this happening? </li>
<li>Where those thoughts REALLY my thoughts or thoughts of someone else?</li>
</ul>
This has been happening for at least a month. It is aggravating and it is frustrating for me! I can't understand it. I want my questions answered but I can't find the answers anywhere. <br />
<br />
Today, I was beginning to thinking it may have been Liz. "I" (using quotations because it's possible it's the puppeteer) have been thinking a lot about my name constantly. "I" find myself drawn to the name Liz (the name of an alter). When someone named Liz texted me, I looked at the phone and "my" immediate thought was, "Why am I texting myself?". (Not a normal thought.)<br />
<br />
I am just so confused, frustrated, mad, feeling used, angry, lost, mixed up, all those things plus more rolled into one.<br />
<br />
I don't know if ANY of this makes sense to anyone reading this. However, if it does, please help me figure this out....<br />
<br />
Jaz <br />
<br />
<br />
Special Note to 'you': "As frustrated, as mad, and feeling used as you feel.....I feel it 100X more!!"Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-51953607902545895662013-08-27T07:02:00.000-04:002013-08-27T07:02:06.181-04:00A Nightmare or Reality<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKlBMNDtUtt7KXUgZbw54hPv6JezcQMo94RiOC-1BNSQ_xFpsqL8To4cikFkku4DOuH59INoZPmuWDf_L1oLRctZmvXvMcQWp1YpoxSAI8rUnEwbON4oIDwzPPN9ZO1zfEm67EEklde_R/s1600/scared.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYKlBMNDtUtt7KXUgZbw54hPv6JezcQMo94RiOC-1BNSQ_xFpsqL8To4cikFkku4DOuH59INoZPmuWDf_L1oLRctZmvXvMcQWp1YpoxSAI8rUnEwbON4oIDwzPPN9ZO1zfEm67EEklde_R/s320/scared.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
Everyone has, more than likely, had a nightmare that has woke them and left them on edge, feeling a little nervous and/or scared.<br />
<br />
Anyone that suffers from PTSD has, more than likely, had a nightmare that has woke them and left them on edge, feeling a little nervous and/or scared. The difference between the person with PTSD is this person has another feeling....was that my nightmare or was that reality? Did that really happen?<br />
<br />
And so my nightmare, or story, begins......<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I am playing with some toys in the living room with a friend of mine. My mom's boyfriend is there, with one of his friends, and they are high from drugs. They are making fun of our toys and I am laughing at the men because they are funny when they are high, which is a normality in my life. After a while, I can "sense" they are getting aggravated with my toys and my friend and I take them into my room. We are playing in there, for how long I am unsure. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>My mom's boyfriend comes busting into my room, his friend is gone I notice, and he is mean now, no longer funny. I'm a little frightened and try not to show my fear. I stand up to him. Little 'ole me... He is aggravated I am still playing with those stupid toys. "They won't stop talking and repeating themselves", he says. I get in his face and remind him, "you thought they were funny earlier."</i></span> <span style="color: #cccccc;">(at some point my friend leaves...I look for her and she is gone) <i> </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>"Well, now I don't. Are you talking back to me?" </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>"When I want to play, you don't want me to." (again trying to stand firm and not show fear to my bully)</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He snatches a few of the toys from me and throws them out. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I take the few I have left and I make them begin the noise he hates, all at one time, all together; so, that it aggravates him off. "I hate you," I think to myself.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He grabs the toys that are making the noises and yells, "You did that on purpose you little bitch."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>"Yes, I did!", I yell back and slam my room door. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I hear stomping and I know, "I messed up....."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He busts in my door and begins to hit me. No, not HIT me, BEAT me. Pushing, shoving, fists, open hands, whatever will hurt. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I scream, "I'm calling the police!"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He throws me a phone, "Go ahead...."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I pick up the phone, dial a number, and through tears, and a quivering voice, I tell what happened and that I am afraid for my life. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He snatches the phone from me, talks to the person on the line, and admits what he has done. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>"Someone is on the way to help ME," I think. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>"You better get out of here. They are coming and they are going to arrest you," I yell.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He laughs and goes outside to get in his vehicle. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>From my window I can see what he is doing. He is NOT leaving!! He does NOT seem scared!!! Why won't he go away!!!</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>The the front door opens, my SAVIOR from the phone call is here....my mom. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>She comes in and begins, "What did you do? Why is he mad? What have you done to upset him?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He must have seen her come in because he comes back inside the house. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I run to the door to try and block him. I'm too little; it doesn't work. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He laughs. "The little bitch deserved this. She doesn't listen. You don't know how to raise a child." He starts in on my mom. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I begin to scream, "I'm calling the police. you will do to jail."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He looks at me with glaring eyes...."You WILL NOT call the police. If you do, bad things will happen to everyone."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He is furious, angry. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I am scared and cowering. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He goes outside; my mom and I stand at my window and watch him. He is getting tools.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>He comes back to the front door and yells, "I'm leaving. I'll be back. There better not be any police here when I get back. And DON'T shut this front door. Don't you even think about locking me out."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>Then he leaves. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I run to the front door to shut it and lock him out but I get a shock.....the door has been taken off it's hinges. I can't do anything to the door. It is impossible to shut the door!</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I begin to shake and yell for my mom, "He took the door off the hinges. We can't shut it. He will come back and hurt us."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>"Shut up," she yells. "It will be fine. He will calm down. Just go to your room. I'll clean up the mess."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>I can't accept that!! I run out of the house, whimpering, crying, fearing for my life. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><i>"When he comes back," I think to myself, "I will die. He will kill me." </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">I wake up....quivering, whimpering, scared, afraid. I am unsure where I am. I am sure someone is about to come into my room and "get me". Feelings are taking over....this is where my THINKING vs FEELINGS needs to happen. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">I look around the room. I tell myself to calm down. I am ok. I am safe. I am in my own home. I am the only adult in the home. I am an adult. No one can hurt me. I can take care of myself. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">"Get up!!" I tell myself. "Walk around. Identify your present situation."</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">The clock says it's early but I can't lay back down. I must get up and face any fear. If I lay back down, FEELINGS will take over. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">I get up. I walk downstairs. I make a cup of coffee. I turn on lights. I turn on the TV. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">"Was this just a nightmare or was this reality that I am remembering via dream?" PTSD thought...</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">I may never know....</span><br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Jaz</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="color: black;"> </span><i> </i></span>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-15644264627269056772013-08-25T21:17:00.000-04:002013-08-27T07:13:03.277-04:00Tonight.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1oL28pf-ObssjgSGdJXNg9zO-ZGDwH4mWHsXWkqsw-9ZEF4Mz0FXeaJ7CZ9DvVzlSWrLFEEiDoFj8W44tRFRuSPtuy83WmBDTlvl3Ts8hUBZ3_hrf_PZmQveuNdYvah717tgOdU-4SbWr/s1600/crying.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1oL28pf-ObssjgSGdJXNg9zO-ZGDwH4mWHsXWkqsw-9ZEF4Mz0FXeaJ7CZ9DvVzlSWrLFEEiDoFj8W44tRFRuSPtuy83WmBDTlvl3Ts8hUBZ3_hrf_PZmQveuNdYvah717tgOdU-4SbWr/s200/crying.jpeg" width="171" /></a></div>
As I sit here tonight I cry.<br />
Tears streaming down my face.<br />
I have no "feeling".<br />
Inside I "feel" nothing.<br />
The tears are the only thing that show I have "feeling".<br />
<br />
I am able to talk to others as though I am fine.<br />
I am able to smile and laugh. (Although, there is no happy "feeling" inside.)<br />
I am able to look at you in your face and you not see anything.<br />
I am able to act "as if..." (as if, there was NEVER any pain in my life)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
No one really wants to hear you. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
No one really wants to know your story.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
No one really wants to hear about your sadness.</div>
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No one really wants to hear about your anger. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
No one really cares.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRUmEnCSxbIfnH2Wr5tOMghro4mcyM2F8384_PQ6ns6h3gyy4NeHmspQF6tpDOYA_pq1pQUDTCNXB20GCCtRRM5haKqfQMrHoKR6yCE0sPrFZ3BojKEKQELPR1MV7Wv-EPs_lzFqQIVIZ/s1600/negative.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhRUmEnCSxbIfnH2Wr5tOMghro4mcyM2F8384_PQ6ns6h3gyy4NeHmspQF6tpDOYA_pq1pQUDTCNXB20GCCtRRM5haKqfQMrHoKR6yCE0sPrFZ3BojKEKQELPR1MV7Wv-EPs_lzFqQIVIZ/s400/negative.jpeg" width="400" /></a>"You are a control freak.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You are crazy.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You are like your mother.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You need help.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You don't listen.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You don't try.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You don't want to change.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You haven't learned. </div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You won't learn.</div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
You won't listen.</div>
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You don't want this." </div>
<br />
All these negative comments being thrown at me. <br />
How can I stay positive 100% of the time? <br />
If I don't stay positive, then I am broken. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9NltNLdlIkQbb2CP2i1FR7jmceeuUrR-LTGGgoQRfZ7T4CHmohcCXmVzabqUT3ksP0JEem5kaQYDmWgDt_4xlZeDctyyXxyLa73diKfqo3DtzFmK1zLw7VRO6BExvoqyFGzN7q1j47hl/s1600/broken.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ9NltNLdlIkQbb2CP2i1FR7jmceeuUrR-LTGGgoQRfZ7T4CHmohcCXmVzabqUT3ksP0JEem5kaQYDmWgDt_4xlZeDctyyXxyLa73diKfqo3DtzFmK1zLw7VRO6BExvoqyFGzN7q1j47hl/s320/broken.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
So, I guess I am broken.<br />
I guess I will never rise above broken.<br />
I am an adult that needs help.<br />
Perhaps, it's too much help.<br />
Perhaps, I'm not able to be helped.<br />
Perhaps, I am too broken.<br />
<br />
"You couldn't control your mother and<br />
now you want to control every else.<br />
This isn't possible.<br />
You can't control people.<br />
People aren't pawns in your game.<br />
This is why you NEED therapy"<br />
(All I hear is negative comments....)<br />
<br />
WHERE THE HELL IS MY POSITIVE?!?!?!?!?!!?!? <br />
<br />
I could very easily let this become overwhelming.<br />
Oh, how easy it would be to slip inside.<br />
But I will fight it.<br />
I will carry on. <br />
<br />
Jaz<br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">*AMENDMENT* (8-27-13)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Although I used the words "no one", this is untrue. The words "no one" are lies. These lies are from my past. They are still lies that I hear. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">People care: </span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">~Doc believes in me and gives me time, energy, encouragement, and confidence.</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">~My children are my big supporters. They believe in me and love me!</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">~K. F. gives me encouragement and believes in me. </span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">~M. H. encouraged me.</span><br />
<span style="color: magenta;">~Aunt K. is on my side and wants to "kick ass". </span><br />
<br />Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-50063159452701392902013-08-23T17:07:00.001-04:002013-08-23T17:07:53.048-04:00FEELINGS vs THINKINGSo yesterdayI had a therapy appointment, 2nd one since beginning of July. (Not by choice, due to schedule issues. Doc is wonderful. Talking through text and even took a Saturday to see me. Love that lady!)<br />
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<br /></div>
<div>
My therapy appointment went well. I felt so good when I left. I felt like I had accomplished things and began to understand ways to help myself heal. </div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
THOUGHTS I took away from this great session......</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGCTELQOYNIYGeDCZzGyiDwzvFZCngmj0Wdk6bDARGazqa9mcDryxmqHbH2QP1Tvftz6AQl56F_eCjMI3zJB0_YhKatbltE3Nt86d-nLfPcL85OP9ZOf14NDtmkxexqN3hyV5471oatXx/s1600/memories.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGCTELQOYNIYGeDCZzGyiDwzvFZCngmj0Wdk6bDARGazqa9mcDryxmqHbH2QP1Tvftz6AQl56F_eCjMI3zJB0_YhKatbltE3Nt86d-nLfPcL85OP9ZOf14NDtmkxexqN3hyV5471oatXx/s1600/memories.jpeg" /></a></div>
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When a "normal" person has a memory or thinks about something in the past, the person is aware that it is a memory and it happened in the past. They may feel happy thinking about a good memory like traveling, or sad if thinking of a loved one that has passed. However, they are aware that it is a memory and they don't "feel" like they are back in the country they visited, nor do they "feel" like they are standing by the coffin and reliving the death of a loved one. </div>
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When a person with PTSD has a memory, they begin to "RELIVE" the memory. The person "feels" as if they are in the same situation at that particular time in the past. They are not "conscious" of their physical surroundings. They see their surroundings as they saw them so many years ago. There is a disconnect (blurring) between what is past and what is present. </div>
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I have alters that are living in fear in the past. When they want to "come out" or there is a "trigger" for my brain, these alters begin to get scared. They believe we are in the past and in present danger. Feelings of fear, sadness, suicide, terror, etc begin to overload my brain and body and "switching" occurs-because the FEELINGS of the past over take any knowledge/THINKING of what I KNOW is presently happening. </div>
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<i>How this works: (example)</i></div>
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<i>I am walking along a side walk and I feel a SUDDEN urge of sadness. </i><br />
<i>I am confused. </i><br />
<i>I think to myself, "Why am I sad? Did something happen?" </i></div>
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<i>I "look around inside the house" <span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">and I see Julie. </span>(Internal house-how my System is divided-described in previous post).</i></div>
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<i>She is sad. She begins to flood me with FEELINGS of sadness from the past. She begins to show or talk to me about the past, as though it was the present. </i></div>
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<i>I am flooded with FEELINGS and I am unable to THINK logically. </i></div>
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<i>This flood takes over my brain, the past is brought forward, I am "inside" and Julie is "outside". </i></div>
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<i>She is confused and scared. </i></div>
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<i>From the inside I try THINKING-using logic-to help her. </i></div>
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<i>I try to overwhelm the brain with THOUGHTS, the same way she overwhelmed the brain with FEELINGS. </i></div>
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<i>I talk with her. I tell her I should be out. I tell her I can protect her. I tell her she is ok and we are safe. </i></div>
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<i>Eventually, I am able to switch back with her. (May take minutes or hours) </i></div>
<div>
<i>THINKING is in charge again.</i></div>
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<i>I am left confused, because I don't know why it happened, and I am left upset, because it happened.</i></div>
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</div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Therapy Revelation.......</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This is a matter of<br />
FEELINGS vs THINKING.<br />
<img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUf9UWhdTgP0bn6OLxlX6JTleiGHhHk83IQWDnTVafE6isDxED66_zc0mUE35t9Ecx3QXzK0J8jc_yMOGq5Uwee0w5Xl9y5VtkjjrP7W_c6rsoko5RhnmaSvMWzsvdO8oMB1jaaRVIYqw/s200/feelingfaces.jpeg" width="200" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGb5oGpKtwriwyYYfUvfAd-MwBI-AknwF3OZcAen6dfjLwlqPNW00P18znUW5zu0ACnQqAxf7_Fvw-oW-SFsg6YT86qp8dgoqUq5UwOk19GDJQRPiVKn2oP_v1cSol6kna8dwyNk7x-r8O/s1600/thinking1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGb5oGpKtwriwyYYfUvfAd-MwBI-AknwF3OZcAen6dfjLwlqPNW00P18znUW5zu0ACnQqAxf7_Fvw-oW-SFsg6YT86qp8dgoqUq5UwOk19GDJQRPiVKn2oP_v1cSol6kna8dwyNk7x-r8O/s200/thinking1.jpeg" width="200" /></a><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"> </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">To an outsider, and sometimes to me, it seems as though "we" are separate entities. However, "we" are ONE! We have one brain and one body. So when an alter begins to have a flashback, or believes they are in the past, it is still my brain and body; the FEELINGS of the alter (which are really MY FEELINGS given to the alter during the trauma) have overpowered the THINKING of the brain. </span></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As the host of a "family" of alters, it is my job to protect, listen to, acknowledge, empathize, communicate with, maintain relationships with, empower, heal, love, comfort, and learn from "The System". While doing all of these things, I must also maintain "MYSELF"! (Me: being part of a system but the one that must remain in charge of daily functioning.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To accomplish all these tasks, I must stay in the present and not become overwhelmed with FEELINGS. I must use thinking, logic, and reason to stay "out" and keep "The System" in order. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>My THINKING must be constant in times when FEELINGS want to overwhelm "The System":</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>~I must constantly THINK of where I am and what my surroundings are. This will help enable my brain to see the present. </i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>~When I begin to have FEELINGS, I must not THINK of the FEELINGS. Instead I must THINK and repeat over and over, "This is a memory. It is not happening. I am in the present." </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>~When I THINK of the present, I can use tactile things in the environment to help with this logical THINKING. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>~THINKING MUST come first. </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>~FEELINGS should never lead. </i></div>
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</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Easier said than done", is my first THOUGHT!</div>
<div>
"In order to change and be productive, these actions must occur", is my second THOUGHT.</div>
<div>
"No one said change is easy, but living in the past is counterproductive and will NOT work", was my third and final THOUGHT.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">New way of taking care of "The System", ruling by THOUGHTS and logic. NOT FEELINGS!! Acknowledging their FEELINGS but not letting them rule!!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"></span></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWwYm60tia5saYrKF76FRKsvOvcl1D85xHHPiZ_3MGmjaYAuiIjXkLpVidtTmMY7xN9usy5VmdgnpT-3HyhSyH9qju7sHAUQGYmgj0hTR0Wo6ODpE1lQctFyO-WcCTpYblV2IST0umvQR/s1600/jumping+in.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVWwYm60tia5saYrKF76FRKsvOvcl1D85xHHPiZ_3MGmjaYAuiIjXkLpVidtTmMY7xN9usy5VmdgnpT-3HyhSyH9qju7sHAUQGYmgj0hTR0Wo6ODpE1lQctFyO-WcCTpYblV2IST0umvQR/s320/jumping+in.jpeg" width="320" /></a>So, here goes nothing....jumping in with faith knowing The Lord will guide me and YOU will be at the shore encouraging me the WHOLE time. "Come on", YOU say. "It's better on this side. I PROMISE you that!!"</div>
<div>
<br />
</div>
<div>
Jaz<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*Note: As I write this blog entry, I find a direct quote from Doc on this issue of FEELINGS vs THINKING. Her timing could not have been more perfect!<br />
<br />
Quoting.....<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">"<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">View
your mind as a container. The contents of the container determine how we
function. We have the ability to filter what we allow in and what we
keep out of our containers. I make it a practice of purposefully doing
this. It's a necessity. There's lots of badness and negativity that I
choose to ignore. Sometimes I just want to be silly and only entertain
such things. There are other times that I allow myself to grieve, look
at photos and cry me a river. Use your own strategies. Make your own
choices. However, I do encourage great care in what you allow in to your
thought process. It can make a great deal of difference in the
happiness of your lives. </span></span></i><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The
main thing is for the THINKER and not FEELER to remain in control. For
any of you that know about 'THE CIRCLES' (TA Theory), it's the ADULT
part of ourselves and not the INNER CHILD part of ourselves, remaining
in control."</span></i> -Doc</span></div>
Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-53160118686327843022013-07-19T19:51:00.001-04:002013-07-19T19:51:45.246-04:00Feelings Brought UpAs you may or may not know, my mother sold me to men for various types of "compensation" beginning as a young child and ending when I left home. <div><br></div><div>Today I learned of a man in my home town that was caught attempting to buy a child with any type of disability for sex. What type of person would do such a thing?....a sociopath. Someone without feelings towards others. Someone without sympathy or empathy. No way for them to relate to anyone. </div><div><br></div><div>These people are amongst us daily. They are our neighbors, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, or family members. You must protect yourself and your family from these people. </div><div><br></div><div>In news, the man was looking for a "single mother". People like him know that single mothers with young children are more likely to be victimized. That doesn't mean that other children aren't victimized. Nor does it mean that single mothers don't protect their children. It simply means there is a higher chance of victimization of children to single mothers. (I am a single mother with young children. Knowing this fact, I even more vigilant with my daughters.)</div><div><br></div><div>This news story reports that due to Shaniya's Law, they were able to arrest and charge this man with a crime. </div><div>Shaniya Davis was a 5 year old child that died a few years ago. Her mother sold her to a man for drugs. The man took her to a hotel in a nearby city, raped and murdered her. Then he dumped her body on the side of the road like an animal. </div><div>Although her murder was senseless, it was not in vain. It has stopped at least one child that would have been abused by this man! </div><div><br></div><div>Shaniya Davis is always in my thoughts. I knew that could have been me. I survived for a reason. I survived to speak up and speak out for victims that couldn't or can't speak for themselves. </div><div><br></div><div>How can we stop child abuse, child prostitution, and human trafficking? </div><div>SPEAK UP!</div><div>SPEAK OUT!</div><div>DON'T STAY SILENT!</div><div>If you know of any abuse, don't let it go unreported. YOU may be a child's only voice! Their only way out of the hell they are living! </div><div>No one spoke up for me. Everyone swept it under a rug. No one reported anything. Don't allow it to happen to someone else!</div><div>Be a child's voice!</div><div>Be a child's advocate!</div><div>Don't let another child be abused because YOU are scared or YOU don't want to get involved!</div><div>Imagine the child's fear he/she lives with EVERYDAY!</div><div>You may be a child's only hope!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHbZAdpNgFAGKv0aQAXb_VMtzq4qEHDoGZ1GlIWudZ_sQrq1CGPudbZxAwN8v8PL1X1v_Zqu9wUagbI2l_TOnaZVjC-yA8AW9UhS-_hE62RQ60Rb1cd6Zy-xaZackLFcE8I0nQE-b8LmB/s640/blogger-image-130294006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHbZAdpNgFAGKv0aQAXb_VMtzq4qEHDoGZ1GlIWudZ_sQrq1CGPudbZxAwN8v8PL1X1v_Zqu9wUagbI2l_TOnaZVjC-yA8AW9UhS-_hE62RQ60Rb1cd6Zy-xaZackLFcE8I0nQE-b8LmB/s640/blogger-image-130294006.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Jaz</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">http://abclocal.go.com/wtvd/story?section=news/local&id=9178688</span></div>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-7726980309233883052013-07-02T20:19:00.001-04:002013-07-02T20:19:24.882-04:00IntegrationWhere to start?<div><br></div><div>I am not sure about integration. I am not sure how it works, what you are suppose to feel, what you are suppose to go through, or anything about it. But I think it's happening between myself and Stephanie (the girls' mom). </div><div><br></div><div>I've noticed within the past month or so when the girls go to their dad's for the weekend, I am at a loss without them. I miss them terribly and constantly wonder about them. At night I sleep with something that reminds me of them, so I feel that they are close to me. </div><div>The bond between us is getting stronger. </div><div><br></div><div>This past weekend I couldn't wait to pick them up and see them. I just wanted to hug them and tell them how much I missed them and love them. I didn't want to be without them, and I knew I would be leaving early Monday morning, so I had them sleep with me-just to be close to them. </div><div>I just can't get enough of them! </div><div><br></div><div>I have never liked children nor cared to be around children. I would run the opposite way when children were around. I didn't like being in their presence. So this change in behavior is DRASTIC! </div><div><br></div><div>With my first daughter I had a C-section. I was never able to see the scar until around a month ago. I am beginning to recall certain things of their births and infancy. The "memories" are faint and few but they are coming slowly. I am so happy to receive the "memories". </div><div><br></div><div>I'm not sure what all this means or how to take everything. I'm not even sure this means integration. </div><div>(I won't see Doc, my therapist, for another 30 days!!)</div><div><br></div><div>Any thoughts, similar situations, advice, etc is greatly needed/appreciated. </div><div><br></div><div>Thanks, </div><div><br></div><div>Jaz</div>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-29843986903847197852013-07-02T20:00:00.001-04:002013-07-02T20:00:29.461-04:00Dear Mom<div>Dear Mom,</div><div>Why did you hurt me? </div><div>Why did you laugh when I cried?</div><div>Did you enjoy seeing your daughter in pain?</div><div>Why did you tell me it was better if I wasn't around?</div><div>Did you despise me that much?</div><div>Would you have preferred that I was never born?</div><div>Why did you not spend time with me?</div><div>Why did you leave me alone?</div><div>Why did you not protect me?</div><div>Why did you sell me for your greed?</div><div><br></div><div>For all of these things I am angry. </div><div>I am angry you hurt me. </div><div>I am angry you preferred that I wasn't around. </div><div>I am angry you didn't spend time with me. </div><div>I am angry that you did not protect me. </div><div>I am angry that you laughed when I cried. </div><div>I am angry you made me watch things I did not like. </div><div>I am angry you didn't love me. </div><div>I am angry I didn't have a happy childhood. </div><div>I am angry you liked seeing me in pain. </div><div>I am angry you hated me. </div><div>I am angry you took advantage of me. </div><div>I am angry you brainwashed me. </div><div>I am angry you sold me. </div><div>I am angry that I had to become a multiple. </div><div>I am angry that you made me use drugs. </div><div>I am angry that you made me use alcohol. </div><div>I am angry you put me in danger. </div><div>I am angry you didn't take care of me. </div><div>I am angry you left me alone. </div><div>I am angry the people at the bar could recognize my voice.</div><div>I am angry you were inconsiderate of me and my life.</div><div>I am angry because you were greedy. </div><div>I am angry that I feel rage towards you. </div><div><br></div><div>I am angry at YOU!</div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-16755755831569072572013-06-10T18:33:00.000-04:002013-06-10T18:33:54.216-04:00Reaching My Destination<a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTxOBbhHYjzaf1t4uyYvXMXGhLMOKN8w3qXH6Tk61SWGQSBEHgo" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: -1px;"><img border="0" class="rg_i" data-sz="f" name="f-O0SZrp8U6hDM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTxOBbhHYjzaf1t4uyYvXMXGhLMOKN8w3qXH6Tk61SWGQSBEHgo" style="height: 160px; margin-top: 0px; width: 226px;" /></a><br />
<br />
As I typed that previous entry, there was a song stuck in my head. I couldn't remember the words but I knew it talked about reaching a destination. So here it is......<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.myspace.com/video/lol/garth-brooks-the-river-with-lyrics/24451026" target="_blank">The River by Garth Brooks</a> <br />
(click the title to hear the song-it will take you to another page)<br />
(it might have an advertisement at the beginning...sorry :-/<br />
<br />
Words....<br />
<br />
You know a dream is like a rivÂer<br /> EvÂer changin' as it flows<br /> And a dreamÂer's just a vesÂsel<br /> That must folÂlow where it goes<br /> TryÂing to learn from what's beÂhind you<br /> And nevÂer knowÂing what's in store<br /> Makes each day a conÂstant batÂtle<br /> Just to stay beÂtween the shores <br />
<br />
Chorus:<br />
I will sail my vesÂsel<br /> 'Til the rivÂer runs dry<br /> Like a bird upÂon the wind<br /> These waÂters are my sky<br /> I'll nevÂer reach my desÂtiÂnaÂtion<br /> If I nevÂer try<br /> So I will sail my vesÂsel<br /> 'Til the rivÂer runs dry <br />
<br />
Too many times we stand aside<br /> And let the waÂters slip away<br /> 'Til what we put off 'til toÂmorÂrow<br /> Has now beÂcome toÂday<br /> So don't you sit upÂon the shoreÂline<br /> And say you're satÂisÂfied<br /> Choose to chance the rapids<br /> And dare to dance the tide<br />
<br />
Chorus:<br />
I will sail my vesÂsel<br /> 'Til the rivÂer runs dry<br /> Like a bird upÂon the wind<br /> These waÂters are my sky<br /> I'll nevÂer reach my desÂtiÂnaÂtion<br /> If I nevÂer try<br /> So I will sail my vesÂsel<br /> 'Til the rivÂer runs dry <br />
<br />
There's bound to be rough waÂters<br /> And I know I'll take some falls<br /> But with the good Lord as my capÂtain<br /> I can make it through them all <br />
<br />
Chorus:<br />
I will sail my vesÂsel<br /> 'Til the rivÂer runs dry<br /> Like a bird upÂon the wind<br /> These waÂters are my sky<br /> I'll nevÂer reach my desÂtiÂnaÂtion<br /> If I nevÂer try<br /> So I will sail my vesÂsel<br /> 'Til the rivÂer runs dry Yes, I will sail my vesÂsel<br /> 'Til the rivÂer runs dry<br /> 'Til the rivÂer runs dry Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-81698232334213240992013-06-10T18:25:00.004-04:002013-06-10T18:25:51.231-04:00Diary Entry Response<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<br /></div>
<br />
Dear Me,<br />
<br />
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSl1KRCtl0jS8RTlSi0twIWq2sz2hzhDq6Haq6cK6nUkrPtd3cY4w" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" class="rg_i" data-sz="f" name="mjVZU4G9tPr3IM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSl1KRCtl0jS8RTlSi0twIWq2sz2hzhDq6Haq6cK6nUkrPtd3cY4w" style="height: 180px; margin-top: 0px; width: 279px;" /></a><br />
This past weekend was rough. I am glad that you were able to find an outlet and journal online. It was very helpful. It helps me see my thinking when I'm not thinking clearly. When my brain feels "cloudy" and I can't think or focus on anything. <br />
My feelings/thoughts this weekend:<br />
<ul>
<li>cloudy mind</li>
<li>suicidal ideation</li>
<li>Satan chasing me</li>
<li>I was running from death</li>
<li>if I was to focus on anything besides staying alive, I would fall or stumble</li>
<li>If I fell or stumbled, I would have "lost time" and may have died</li>
<li>there was nothing I could do</li>
<li>Staying a step ahead of death was my only option</li>
<li>I had no medication</li>
<li>I could find no LOGICAL reason for crying, being upset, suicide</li>
<li>I could not focus on positive (not because I didn't see any, because if I did I would take my thoughts off of staying ahead of death, and then I would fall)</li>
<li>my girls kept me alive</li>
<li>not wanting to continue the legacy of abuse kept me alive</li>
<li>not wanting to let the abusers win kept me alive</li>
</ul>
I was able to keep my head above water. I was able to maintain some sense of being and living. This is something positive for me to look at. Every day that I am here is another victory! Another day that the abusers didn't win. Another day that I am alive and here for my children!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQZlwl2wfrxfxB0T_xU7tnwp8jQC2FWj5uBS-r-M6i7bgw4Oj8AqA" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" class="rg_i" data-sz="f" name="fqJhPwdC13nOpM:" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQZlwl2wfrxfxB0T_xU7tnwp8jQC2FWj5uBS-r-M6i7bgw4Oj8AqA" style="margin-top: -2px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You and Me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was helped this weekend by a CARING and LOVING soul,while they marched the last part of their 5K unsure they would finish. The 5K was a special event for this person. It was a battle they were determined to win. They have a special reason for completing that 5K. Not just to say they did it, but for a VERY special person in their life. However, while they marched, they were texting me. Not wanting to give up on their race, but not wanting to give up on me either. This person took the time and energy to help me. Energy that was depleting them from their goal-but NEVER giving up. This person has not given up on me. This person has shown me what UNCONDITIONAL love means. This person is also to be recognized for my success this weekend. You are an EXTRA SPECIAL person. I truly love you! You hold a special place in my heart that NO ONE can/will replace. You are MY angel on earth-placed in my path at various times for various reasons.<br />
<br />
Some things I realized and tweeted on today: (referring to DID)<br />
<ul>
<li>We fight a battle and we feel alone. But in reality we have a force with us always. Sometimes they are with us and sometimes they are against us. But they are there regardless. </li>
<li>But they are always there-like siblings. And like siblings, we have to learn to get along while being in each other's spaces. </li>
<li>This calls for MUTUAL respect, caring, and understanding from everyone. </li>
<li>This is needed for healing!</li>
</ul>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQmEDnFJF9ZevY3I98L1ivRR3LpJn8F4dcIPw_PxuQiTik3qM8E" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" class="rg_i" data-sz="f" name="sJtL7lzIk1c16M:" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQmEDnFJF9ZevY3I98L1ivRR3LpJn8F4dcIPw_PxuQiTik3qM8E" style="height: 177px; margin-top: 0px; width: 284px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I know you are at the shore reaching out...I'm reaching back! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I am on a healing journey. With the help of God, Doc, and myself, I will continue on my journey to healing. I will reach my destination. It has not been easy. Nor will it be easy in the future. But with support <strong><em>(including my reader's support)</em></strong> I will make it. I will win this battle. I will finish this journey.<br />
<br />
Jaz<br />
<br />
Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-89915571535611240132013-06-07T21:10:00.000-04:002013-06-07T21:10:25.977-04:00Diary Entry<br />
<img height="251" id="irc_mi" src="http://www.motherhood-cafe.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/Depressed-woman1.jpg" style="margin-top: 56px;" width="320" /><br />
<br />
Switching is eminent. It is in the near future. I feel so sad, so scared. I just want to cry and scream and run and stay and fight and yell. What do I do? How do I handle this?<br />
<br />
I just want to be alone. I don't want anyone around. Tears streaming down my face as I sit. I can't do this but I have to.<br />
<br />
Everyone is fighting against me. Everyone wants me to fail. Everyone wants me to fall down on my face.<br />
<br />
<img height="150" id="irc_mi" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR3QmdFwa4jHFC1B0iq-6f6xDZtPmpuZAO_-g4ypwATVTrcR5bs" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="200" /> <img height="112" id="irc_mi" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS1vSZnwPjmvT0HImSYueJtA9bB3u3054Fx74_hnT6Vm9sRVnP0ww" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="200" /><br />
Elizabeth-"Just take the whole bottle of sleeping pills. You won't have live like this anymore. A gun would work fine as well. Just end it now" (I can see the bullet going through my head, into my brain, and lodging in my skull.)<br />
<br />
Jason-"Just have a drink. Drown everything away and out. Have fun and enjoy it. Get rid of your problems."<br />
<br />
Elizabeth-"But they will be there in the morning. My way is the best. Problems are gone forever and ever. No more suffering."<br />
<br />
All I can do is imagine my children with no mother and no real understanding or explanation of why. Why their mother left them? Why their mother didn't love them? Why their mother was so screwed up?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/a2a864c7cf11cc5061ee64aeda0faca1/tumblr_mj7a1zX8661rbpxu2o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" id="irc_mi" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/a2a864c7cf11cc5061ee64aeda0faca1/tumblr_mj7a1zX8661rbpxu2o1_500.jpg" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="218" /></a>I will mess them up and they will have fucked up childhoods and need therapy. It will be the legacy continued. The abusers win this way. But what am I to do?<br />
<br />
It's so hard to fight. To fight ALONE! I have no one to talk to. No one that can relate. No one that can help. Therapy is few and far between. (Not that she doesn't try, because she works hard for me, day and night--everyday) But ultimately, I'm alone. I have no one to talk to. Just to tell my feelings to. Just to explain my thoughts. Just to take my mind off of things for a bit. <br />
<br />
(Elizabeth interjects now, "Just die.")<br />
<br />
Is that it? Is that my only option out of this mess I'm in? To leave this world?<br />
<br />
I feel things are moving slow right now. In slow motion. I took 3 sleeping pills hoping the effects would set in FAST and LAST! <br />
<br />
(Elizabeth interjects now, "There are more in the bottle. Just finish them off. They won't hurt you. Just do it.")<br />
<br />
What do I do?<br />
How do I react?<br />
How do I respond?<br />
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<a href="http://api.ning.com/files/21tNO5FzXGvgGrwb2dF*qdhMLp-*nO8p-7aJWWU2gUUnzBnMBbJXj20Mvj89EK9sRhre2MVmnUb7lGKscUIm6KSw*WLC0Een/tears10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" id="irc_mi" src="http://api.ning.com/files/21tNO5FzXGvgGrwb2dF*qdhMLp-*nO8p-7aJWWU2gUUnzBnMBbJXj20Mvj89EK9sRhre2MVmnUb7lGKscUIm6KSw*WLC0Een/tears10.jpg" style="margin-top: 9px;" width="320" /></a></div>
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Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-60094738433002735702013-04-22T07:28:00.001-04:002013-04-22T07:28:00.403-04:00New Journaling<br />
Since I have been "out" I have denied alters and ignored them. This is not the best way to deal with DID. <br />
As long as I feel fine, then I can deny them. (In my mind)<br />
But they never leave. They are always here with me. They are always taking my feelings when anxiety comes. <br />
<br />
Therefore, I'm going to take the opportunity to begin a new journey. <br />
<br />
I'm going to take the blog and begin to journal and take note of my feelings and their feelings as well. <br />
<br />
Please continue to follow me as I begin to acknowledge the alters and their purpose. As this will be difficult and a long process. <br />
<br />
Jaz Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-31895503755781239532012-11-03T12:33:00.002-04:002012-11-03T12:33:46.524-04:00A Revelation-Putting together a Puzzle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSil8CVMDU7MHb_7tYdRsuNVHuUG8MjcZM-RRYbuKOKdJGkCIg-0V8wOm0NQbBqNA-fa9Dle7Lr1In9vTvnBR_2OgJrmmC9ljLW9aNXjJn7TizJZZ9L22pLLUgqWStTrALNpnhlURoUTMs/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSil8CVMDU7MHb_7tYdRsuNVHuUG8MjcZM-RRYbuKOKdJGkCIg-0V8wOm0NQbBqNA-fa9Dle7Lr1In9vTvnBR_2OgJrmmC9ljLW9aNXjJn7TizJZZ9L22pLLUgqWStTrALNpnhlURoUTMs/s1600/images.jpg" /></a></div>
After a steady, two years of therapy with Doc and the alters, I have made a revelation. Technically, it didn't take a total of two years since I've only been "out" for about 10 months but therapy is a continuous process and it takes therapy with the alters and myself for revelations to happen. <br />
<br />
Doc has always been a steady, positive person in my life for two years. She keeps me on the path to the place I need to be. She stands on the shore and calls out for me to swim hard to get to her, to see the revelation. She always pushes me to be the best person I can be for myself, my children, and my alters. Her encouraging words and positive attitude never falters. Sometimes, she would say, "You just don't get it and I can't make you get it. You have to want it for yourself. You have to get it on your own!" <br />
<br />
I always understood her words. I understood what she meant. I could comprehend the sentences. However, it never "clicked". It was like she was giving me all these puzzle pieces and, separately, I understood everything she was saying. And I couldn't figure out why Doc would say, "You don't get it. You don't understand." It was because the puzzle pieces weren't fitting together. I could understand them separately but never fit them together. <br />
<br />
But last night I finally did!! I put the puzzle pieces together and saw the WHOLE picture. Everything she has been saying and pushing me towards made sense. I got it!!<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Due to our ritualistic sexual abuse as a child, we grew up thinking sex was how you should closeness, togetherness, intimacy, and love. So, when we look for those characteristics in relationships, we look for sex. All of those characteristics, closeness, love, togetherness, and intimacy, were lacking from our mother and family. Those characteristics are what we always search for in relationships. However, we attribute them to sex. So when we married, we ended up marrying a sex addict because that's what we thought was normal and true love. We thought by continuously having sex, we were showing our love and being close with our spouse. However, this way of thinking is inaccurate and stems from our past. It also continues the abuse. <br />
<br />
A true relationship, one that has closeness, love, intimacy, and togetherness, is NOT based on sex. It is based on a mutual respect for each other. It is based on sharing common interests and being able to talk with a person. It is enjoying each others company and being with each other. Something I never learned. Something Doc was trying to teach me and push me toward understanding. <br />
<br />
Due to my inaccurate view of relationships, I need to work harder on building and establishing HEALTHY relationships. I need to focus on developing and maintaining relationships based on shared interests not SEX. By developing new healthy relationships, I can have the thing I have always longed for and missed-closeness, togetherness, love, trust, understanding, and intimacy. These healthy friendships will lead to a deeper understanding of myself and help me heal. <br />
<br />
My thought process has been distorted from my past. The abuse caused the distorted view of sex and togetherness. <br />
<br />
This is NOT an immediate thing. It will NOT be an immediate fix. This is a process. I have to start at the beginning and learn new skills. I have to work forward and work toward a positive, healthy future. This will be something different. Something I've never had before. <br />
<br />
Before, I have felt like an alien in people's presence. I felt different and as though I didn't fit in. I didn't feel "normal". I now don't care about that. I am in this world for myself and I must heal. This requires me to do things differently. Be a different person than I have been in the past. Look to the future with a different outlook. Stop looking for sex as closeness and look for enjoyment in life. <br />
<br />
I do feel like a different person. I have a new outlook on life. I have a new perspective of life and relationships. I am understanding more of what Doc has always been saying and pushing me toward. I will "Make It Happen". I will heal from the past and grow. I will develop new and healthy relationships. <br />
<br />
"I got this!"<br />
<br />
Jaz<br />
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<br />Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-6100994882413678592012-09-03T21:57:00.002-04:002012-09-03T22:02:09.166-04:00A Cover-Up Exposed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The phone rings and a name from the past pops up. It is my mom. I answer but when I hear her voice I quickly hang up. The phone rings again and again her name pops up. This time I let the call go to voice mail. Her message says she wants to talk to me and asks me if I am ok and what is going on with me. Of course, I am NOT calling her back. Why would she bother to call me. She is suppose to be DEAD in my life.<br />
<br />
The next day the phone rings and a name from the past pops up. It is my mom's best friend. I immediately get mad. This is harassment. They are calling and disturbing my life. I let the call go to voice mail and listen to the message. She states she has not talked to my mom in a long time and just wants to make sure she has my mom's correct number. So I decide to call her back.<br />
<br />
She answers the phone and I ask her what she wants. She states she wants to make sure the number she has for my mom is the correct number. So, I ask what number she has. "Uh, um, uh...", she stumbles over her words. "I don't know. I'll have to call you back to give you the number I have." "No", I say. "Here it is..."<br />
<br />
She begins to want to chit-chat with me, digging for information, and I am very short with her. She asks if I am mad at her and I ask "Do I have a reason to be?" <br />
<br />
I ask her about my mom walking in on me being raped and not doing anything about it. I ask her if it is normal to not turn in a child rapist. She states that my mom did turn in the child rapist and that the police were involved and I saw a psychologist. I told her that the police report says parent states child is lying and parent is uncooperative. She says that some police men are lazy and just don't want to do their job. She said my mom loved me and did everything she could do this one time.<br />
<br />
I asked her about the church cover up. She states that if my mom was part of the cover up with the church she, my mom's friend, was unaware. My mom's friend states "So, you are telling me it happened more than once with this man and with other men," I say, "Yes, that is what I am telling you." She said, "Oh..."<br />
<br />
I asked her about my mom's last boyfriend and the physical and sexual abuse that I was exposed to by him while my mom watched. She said, "Oh I had no idea. I would have came and got you and protected you. I am so sorry." "It's too late for sorry," I say. <br />
<br />
She said, "But at that time you were running away from home and sneaking out at night." <br />
"Oh....so that's a reason to be beaten naked with a two by four, cords, belts, or whatever is around??. I didn't realize that." I say. <br />
<br />
She tells me that I should forgive my mom. She says that her father abused her and her mother knew and she gave it to God and has forgiven her mother and father.<br />
<br />
I tell her that I have given up everything to God and I am being blessed and the happiest I have ever been. But I do not have to forgive or forget what my mom did to me. I told her that my mother suffers EVERYDAY and is in pain EVERYDAY just like I suffered EVERYDAY during my childhood.<br />
<br />
She states, "You don't want to do that. You don't want to push her out of your life. When she dies you will miss her."<br />
<br />
I said "FUCK HER! She isn't worth my time or my breath. She sold me out. She knew about all the abuse and did nothing. She sold me. Fuck her!"<br />
I tell her, "Next time you talk to my mom and you tell her everything I said, tell her I will spit on her grave the way she spits on her daddy's grave. Fuck her! She is suffering and I am living!"<br />
<br />
I told her I couldn't talk to her anymore and I hung up. <br />
<br />
<br />
I feel so good. I feel so strong!!!<br />
I am so proud of myself for standing up for us and talking to her.<br />
It was important for me. Even though I didn't talk to my mom, it felt like I was talking to her.<br />
I felt empowered. I still feel great!<br />
I opened up and spoke up.<br />
I spoke up for the alters and for myself.<br />
<br />
Jaz<br />
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<br />
<br />
*~*~*~*~*~*UPDATE*~*~*~*~*~*~*<br />
(MAY CONTAIN TRIGGERS)<br />
<br />
That night Jillian showed me what happened the day Vickie, our mother, walked in on Jillian being raped by that man.<br />
Jillian was laying down and was being raped with an object. She isn't sure what the object was but it hurt her and felt pointy. She can see it being pulled out of her while she is crying and laying there. It looks like a triangle. She begins to bleed from her vagina. The blood is bright red. The man turns his attention to someone behind him. Jillian turns her head in the same direction and sees Vickie. The man and Vickie speak but Jillian can't make out what they are saying. Jillian looks back down at her vagina and she is still bleeding. Vickie comes over and places paper towels between Jillian's legs, pulls her dress down, and carries Jillian out.<br />
At home, two doors down, Vickie continues to doctor Jillian. She is on the phone with people. That is the only thing Jillian shows me. Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-35471442074317071442012-07-27T19:09:00.001-04:002012-07-27T19:09:28.423-04:00Goodbye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPEuBxd7a0xqG7cUPz5arxqXeszcWMHk15Rpd014aidWCEnsn6BXGPVxuU7rzjMi1TQU8xDjHALeJguhbgnYCE4aiGMm8jtfjo7k1fXtKmmD2CU4fRM4nrtiIZl9V3xnxgf5u1k2VfqE0Y/s1600/time-to-say-good-bye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
Dear Vickie,<br />
<br />
I am constantly haunted with wishes of "normalcy". I am constantly wishing for a mother that loves me and cares for me unconditionally. I am constantly wishing for a mother I can call on and tell about my day, good or bad. I am wishing for a mother that will hold me and tell me everything will be ok. I am wishing for a mother that wants me. I am wishing for a mother's love. <br />
<br />
But I am wishing for something that has never existed and for something that will never exist. I am wishing for things that a child wants because I missed out on them as a child. I am wishing for these things and missing out on my current life. I can't wish and long for a mother's love any longer. I must be my own mother. I must mother my own children. <br />
<br />
You could never be what I want. You could never offer me what I need.
Why I think that you could now and couldn't when I was a child is
crazy. You could never support me the way I need it. You are not what
I need. <br />
<br />
In my eyes, you are dead. Your kidney disease has already killed you. You are buried and dead-6 feet under. Since you are dead, there is no reason to wish for your love. I can't have it. You can't give it. You are gone. <br />
<br />
<br />
Therefore, I must tell you <i>good bye</i>. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Good bye Vickie. <br />
Good bye to my wishes for a mother.<br />
Good bye to my childhood. <br />
Good bye to the mother you NEVER were. <br />
Good bye to the mother you NEVER could have been. <br />
Good bye to the love I wanted from you. <br />
Good bye to the love you never gave me.<br />
Good bye to my mourning you. <br />
Good bye to my tears. <br />
Good bye to my sadness. <br />
Good bye to my image of a mother. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Good bye forever. <br />
<br />
JazSilenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-36374804347736293452012-07-24T18:00:00.001-04:002012-07-27T19:09:50.267-04:00NoiseWhy tonight of all nights is there so much noise? <br />
<br />
I can hear so many people talking. It's confusing. I can't make out voices but I can see everyone in the house. There is so much talking I can't make out what is being said. <br />
<br />
I know there is debate going on about who is in control inside. I know they aren't fighting. Just discussing. Which is good. <br />
<br />
I don't want to hear it though. It's so confusing and tiring. I just want to lay down at 6PM. <br />
<br />
Night, <br />
<br />
JazSilenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-72531050499374542422012-06-21T14:44:00.001-04:002012-06-21T14:44:24.909-04:00Adoption<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
So as Jaz I have no memory of having my children. I don't remember being pregnant with them or giving birth to them. Nor do I remember them growing up until, perhaps, a year ago. Stephanie holds these memories. It is very difficult to be attached to them because of this.<br />
<br />
I never liked kids. They were annoying and drove me crazy. I couldn't stand whining and complaining. I couldn't stand to hear children constantly ask for things. I couldn't stand it.<br />
<br />
Then I became the host, out all of the time, and had to deal with children that called me mommy and wanted something from me all the time. It was hard.<br />
<br />
People told me I was lucky. I may not have a family that consists of MY mother and father but I have my own children that I can make new memories with and start my own, NEW family. However, people just didn't understand that I didn't bond with my children. I didn't feel that way.<br />
<br />
It hurt me deeply that I felt this way about these children. I knew they loved me and I felt I should love them but I just didn't know how. I was having a mini "pity party". <br />
<br />
The only person that knew any of these feelings were Doc. I was too scared to share them with anyone else. I was scared that something might happen to the children. What if someone took them away? I couldn't let that happen....<br />
<br />
Doc finally explained it in a way that made sense to me and got me thinking. True that I may not remember pregnancy and birth but there are mothers that don't go through pregnancy and childbirth. They adopt children. So I need to think of myself as adopting my own children. <br />
<br />
Well, to me, that made perfect sense. I may not have those memories but that doesn't mean I can't LEARN to love them.<br />
<br />
So, I did my best. I began really working towards getting to know them as individuals. Getting to know their strengths and weaknesses. I wanted to know everything about them. I wanted to spend time with them. I wanted to be with them and love them for who they are. <br />
<br />
Over time it began to work. I am learning that, although my memories are not there, I can love them anyway. I can make new memories with them and show them that I love and care for them like no one else in the world can.<br />
<br />
I can show them a MOTHER'S LOVE!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
JazSilenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-36734504065846436292012-06-18T18:27:00.000-04:002012-06-21T17:47:00.949-04:00Father's Day<span style="font-size: large;"><b>What does Father's Day mean to me?</b></span><br />
<br />
I wrote about <a href="http://silenced-no-longer.blogspot.com/2012/05/happy-mothers-day.html" target="_blank">Mother's Day</a> and how it affects me. However, Father's Day doesn't affect me the same way.<br />
<br />
As a child that grew up in an abusive home, I blame my mother for the abuse that was done to me. She is the one that allowed it to happen. She is the one that sold me. She is the one that didn't protect me.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>But what about my father? What do I blame him for?</b></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaYPIgGCtiPR2h1E2u65Z51SdZvRRBe7I2-ZLDdFLUvIzf4R3mZn1IaGO7f828MpcxSmOgOgB-hRtX3YKPiynTLkelMvru7zxbTN7nx-AusE77k46xYnUdK0SV1AUdq316koOpMkVKlt-y/s1600/fathers+day+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaYPIgGCtiPR2h1E2u65Z51SdZvRRBe7I2-ZLDdFLUvIzf4R3mZn1IaGO7f828MpcxSmOgOgB-hRtX3YKPiynTLkelMvru7zxbTN7nx-AusE77k46xYnUdK0SV1AUdq316koOpMkVKlt-y/s320/fathers+day+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a>I don't blame him for anything. I have never seen my biological father. Not even in a photograph. I do not know what he looks like, sounds like, walks like, etc. He could be standing next to me in a grocery store and I would never know. This is all my mother's doing. She did not tell him about me. She did not tell him that I was alive until I was 17.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Could things have been different?</b></span><br />
<br />
As a teenager, I would fantasize about my father coming and taking me from the abuse. I would yell out at my mother and her boyfriends how if my father was around, he wouldn't let any of this bad stuff happen.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Fantasy?</b></span><br />
<br />
Perhaps I was living in a fantasy world. Perhaps if he would have known about me sooner, he would have wanted something to do with me. Because once she asked him for child support, when I was 17, he could have had something to do with me but he didn't.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Celebrating?</span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">I never celebrated Father's Day before. I didn't have a father to celebrate with and I definitely wasn't celebrating with the abusers. </span></span>So, this year I decided to make a new tradition. I would celebrate. I would celebrate my life. Celebrate me. I went shopping and bought myself presents for Father's Day. It was wonderful. This will definitely be a new tradition for myself.<br />
Shopping, Ice cream, and dinner. <br />
<br />
I hope that you did something fun this Father's Day. Whether it was for someone else or for yourself.<br />
<br />
Jaz<br />
<br />Silenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-70724243787947852042012-05-13T18:16:00.001-04:002012-05-13T19:40:15.248-04:00Happy Mother's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today is a day to celebrate the mother that you have in your life.<br />
Today is a day to celebrate the mother that loves and cherishes you.<br />
Today is a day to celebrate the mother that comforts you when you are sad.<br />
Today is a day to celebrate the mother that you can turn to in your time of need.<br />
Today is a day to celebrate the mother that doesn't hurt you.<br />
Today is a day to celebrate the mother in your life....<br />
What about those of us that don't have a mother in our lives because of abuse?<br />
<br />
Today is my first Mother's Day without my "mother". This is my first year that I have been "out" to accept the fact that my "mother" was an evil person. I have not talked to her in almost a year. She has called but I refuse to talk to her. She does not deserve my time. So what do I celebrate today?<br />
<br />
I celebrate <span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>MYSELF</i></b><i><b>!! </b></i></span><br />
I am an amazing person.<br />
I am a survivor.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKcEpz9NOYfR_G08zB-YllGf6J3HEG6F4Z8V9zbEWbTkP5tCdA9Dtrl8e1Rc8qcP4uvqa3hVjD4uy6tSWlJSS0J1qoKo9KQ83kYuzOXK-AojS-NOmk1-fiI9MbFY7YM8iHXYThvuiTKkl1/s1600/3385925302_915ff4cbcc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKcEpz9NOYfR_G08zB-YllGf6J3HEG6F4Z8V9zbEWbTkP5tCdA9Dtrl8e1Rc8qcP4uvqa3hVjD4uy6tSWlJSS0J1qoKo9KQ83kYuzOXK-AojS-NOmk1-fiI9MbFY7YM8iHXYThvuiTKkl1/s320/3385925302_915ff4cbcc.jpg" width="320" /></a>I am an amazing mother.<br />
I am my own mother.<br />
I am a gift on earth.<br />
I am great.<br />
I am worth living.<br />
I am worth getting to know.<br />
I am strong.<br />
I am a fighter.<br />
I am a great friend.<br />
I am honest.<br />
I am courageous.<br />
I am loving.<br />
I am compassionate.<br />
I am capable.<br />
I am beautiful.<br />
I am intelligent.<br />
I am a mother.<br />
I am wonderful.<br />
I am ME!<br />
<br />
Thank you to the higher power for making me who I am today.<br />
Thank you to the higher power for giving me what I have today.<br />
Thank you to the higher power for giving me the opportunities I have.<br />
Thank you to the higher power for allowing me to live.<br />
Thank you to the higher power for making me strong.<br />
Thank you to the higher power.....<br />
<br />
Happy Mother's Day to all of you that celebrate YOURSELVES on this wonderful day!!<br />
Be good to yourself!!<br />
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JazSilenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-75139026996197733322012-05-09T10:08:00.001-04:002012-05-09T10:08:45.793-04:00Nightmares<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last night I received a message from a an old friend's mom. She told me how she loved me like a daughter always and how she was so proud of me. This really touched me. I have never heard these words from my mom before. <br />
I began to cry. I couldn't stop crying. I was sobbing and hated my mom in that instant. I hated the fact that I will NEVER have a mother that loves and cares for me. I will NEVER know that bond between a mother and a child, on the child end. <br />
After crying and talking to Doc, I tried to go to sleep but nightmares haunted my sleep. I would be dreaming about abuse and, right before I was hit or raped, I would be jolted out of my sleep. Sitting straight up in the bed. It was like the pain from the nightmare caused me to wake up. I couldn't sleep.<br />
Eventually my youngest daughter came and got in the bed with me. When she did, my dreams changed to positive dreams. I began to dream that I was part of a family and I was loved. I knew the family and they accepted me for who I am loved me unconditionally. It was a great dream that lasted about 30 minutes. However, today I am still exhausted. I only got around 3 hours of sleep last night. <br />
Doc says that there are women that want and need daughters and I will find someone that loves and cares for me unconditionally. I am hoping she is right. Although, at times I am skeptical. But I guess this comes from my abusive past. I was raised thinking no one would ever love me. It will take a lot of thought process changing to show me that there are people with unconditional love. <br />
Hoping that I can continue on my road to recovery and succeed in life!<br />
<br />
JazSilenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1756804868355198097.post-50263367782681275232012-05-04T10:25:00.001-04:002012-05-04T19:11:25.630-04:00Positive<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since my hospital visit I have been focusing on the positive. I have trying to change my thought patterns by focusing on only the good and the here and now. So far it seems to be working. <br />
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As of May 1st I have received very good news and I am very hopefully about my future. <br />
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I know that if I could survive my past ,I can survive my present. I have nothing to be sad or depressed about. I have no reason to doubt myself or the outcome of my future. My future looks. bright. I'm loving life!<br />
<br />
Negative thoughts produce negatives actions. <br />
Positive thoughts produce positive actions. <br />
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Let's stay positive!!!! <br />
<br />
JazSilenced No Longerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14554480813103089777noreply@blogger.com0