alters

darnold1975

The Pain That Never Ends Pt. 3

“The more you trust your intuition, the more empowered you become, the stronger you become, and the happier you will become.”

-Gisele Bundchen

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away! Ready. Set. Blog! I hope this blog has brought insight and the knowledge that you are not alone. And that just because someone can’t see your emotional wounds doesn’t mean that it’s not there.

While he psychologically manipulated me, I hung on his every word as if it were scripture.  I accept full responsibility for all my actions. But the situation seemed to be escalating exponentially. We married four years later. I do not distinctly remember feeling genuinely happy about it. I just thought that marrying was the next logical step. I remember thinking “no wonder people are miserable when they’re married.” Secretly, though, I was terrified that I was making the biggest mistake of my life. And that is exactly what I did. Nevertheless, we were soon legal. I saw flashing signs warning of potential danger ahead. But I was steadfast in my determination to make it all work. 

My belief, at that time, was to just to try and love him. I eventually realized that I would never be able to get that close to him. Soon, though, everything was beginning to make sense. His ever-increasing controlling traits were only getting more aggressive. He would call me names. He would humiliate me away from others until it became overtly obvious. I thought, “Why was seeing it all so foreign? I wouldn’t understand for several years later. The reason that it was so foreign was because I had never seen my daddy treat my mom that way. My daddy is one of respectable men in the community. And I never once saw him disrespect my mom even one time. I was looking for a good man just as he had always been. Not one angry word or action had I ever seen.

He made me do things without my consent. Turn on for him, maybe? I was secretly so miserable. He would rape my mind just like he would my body. He belittled me, stalked me, had total control over what I ate. I felt like it was a prison.I was told that I was stupid so many times I no longer feel as sting when I’m degraded. I bought into all this “perfect” life he was selling. Hook, line and sinker. I soon realized that the safest thing to do was to just do whatever he asked to get through the moment. I had become his emotional punching bag. I was also systematically being pulled away from family and friends. He was going to slowly transform me into his image of “perfection.” And no matter what I did, I would never I couldn’t achieve that unattainable goal. When you’re in a relationship with a narcissist, they see theirselves as “The” God of universe. They never see any need for improvement in any way. Because the only one who needs improvement is you. There was absolutely “zero” concern for both my physical and mental wellbeing.

The initial injury compromised the blood supply to the lower portion of my femur. When I begin to regenerate new bone, it would flake off fragments that needed to be surgically removed to ensure proper functionality. Due to my delay in seeking medical attention, the bony structures continued to shred the cartilage, resulting in further damage to the entire joint. That made him very angry. 

There were no words of encouragement or empathy. Just incessant berating for something that I couldn’t control. He wasn’t much of a cuddler either. And after 14 years of abuse, neither was I.  If he did there were always ulterior motives. I can vividly recall crying when I was out of his sight, as the pain was so intense. The intensity of crying heightened every situation. Until I learned how not to cry. I was never allowed to take mood stabilizers or antidepressants because “what would people think if they found out that his wife was a head case?” To make matters worse, he would get so angry that he took my pains meds and threw them out into the rain. And I was not allowed to retrieve them.  My mom was standing right there and witness it all.

I also experienced severe kidney and bladder infections. I had fevers, hematuria, nausea, and vomiting. It was extremely painful. When he finally took me to an urgent care facility, we were informed that I was at a high risk of developing sepsis. He stated in front of the nurse and doctors, “I told her that she needed to be seen sooner, but she did not want to get checked out.” He then said, “I suppose you won’t do that again next time will you?” I accepted responsibility once more while knowing that the real reason for the delay was because I wasn’t being allowed to get the help. 

Things were getting scarier by the day. I was stalked, raped, verbally and mentally abused. I knew how to do one thing that had helped me in the past. Mentally just go to some other place. And let someone else fill in to help with this monumental task. I was made fun of anytime I hurt. I was called a hypochondriac. And eventually I was told that my medical needs were too costly, and that I would just have to learn to deal with the pain. Specifically, I still needed more knee surgeries and procedures for simple wellness. And once again I endured pain in every kind of way you can imagine.

In the end, I lacked self-confidence in myself and was completely shattered mentally. It was fortunate that I left on my own. And I did it and came out alive. The abuse and manipulation I endured over the course of 14 years left me with nothing positive. I realized that I had lost “me” in the process. And I still struggle with my daily life. Let’s just say that relationships are not things that I excel in. 

I developed an incredibly high tolerance for pain. However, when I reach my limit, I take a sharp left at a “normal” reaction. My traumatic response is instantaneous. I am very apprehensive about visiting doctors. And it terrifies me to think that I could be berated again.

Maybe life isn’t about avoiding the bruises. Maybe it’s about collecting the scars to prove that we showed up for it.”

-Hannah Brencher

**And as always, don’t forget to watch the video below!**

 #Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Pain That Never Ends 2

“Triggers are like little psychic explosions that crash through avoidance and bring the dissociated, avoided trauma suddenly, unexpectedly, back into consciousness.”

-Carolyn Spring

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away! Ready. Set. Blog! Get comfortable because you need to finish reading this one. This took a few days to complete this blog. There is still a considerable amount of raw emotion associated with this topic. Okay, I will continue from where I left off.

When I encountered my next predator, I was 17 years old. He was 36 years old. He was nineteen years my senior. I acknowledge that the entire situation was chaotic at that time. Unfortunately, that chaos became the norm. I realized that I became terrified in the idea that when there was not chaos, I was terrified.  I was suddenly thrust headfirst into a harsh adult world for which I was unprepared. It was received like a “turd in the punch bowl.” 

Living in a small southern city in the “Bible Belt” region of Mississippi entails a unique set of rules. To put it bluntly, “Being gay should never be regarded as an accepted option.” You are expected to graduate from high school. Attend college. Consider marrying someone of the opposite sex. And to pursue careers while raising children.

I had no idea that my life would drastic 360 degree turn. I would endure a 14-year reign of severe and traumatic terror. What I did not realize as a teenager was that predators can take on various forms, each uniquely individualized. I believed he was my “Prince Charming.” However, every day I looked into the eyes the devil. I entered that relationship with a deep sense of commitment. I was also trying to engage in the “heterosexual game.” And I realized that I was different.

 In the beginning, he had been a man with a silver tongue. He said all the right things, leading me to believe that he was a good man who genuinely wanted to love me and build a life together. That was undoubtedly the most misleading revelation of the truth. As he stated, “I was roaming the high schools looking for a wife.”  Why did I not find that creepy? Since then, I have asked myself that same question every day thereafter. But what was done, was in fact done. 

When I was an athlete, you recognize that pain is an essential component of your training regimen. It is an undeniable reality that managing pain is an inherent aspect of life. You consistently challenge your body in ways you never thought possible. Being in an abusive situation is fundamentally different.

 In the four years that we dated, I remember thinking, “Something doesn’t seem right.” I couldn’t identify exactly what “it” was at the time. But I soon realized the harsh reality. I began to realize elements of his likewise traumatic past. Living with a very controlling and abusive father I heard his horror stories. And until his father died, I can tell you that there was some part of him that still feared his father. An interesting fact was that prior to going to visit his father I was directed about how to act. I was so uncomfortable each time. I would watch and listen to how they would interact. And the stories that they both told had a lot of similarities. This was just paranoia, right? No. There were reasons to be paranoid and scared. And I was.

“Your gut knows what’s up, even if your brain doesn’t want to admit it.”-

-Anonymous

**And also don’t forget to watch the video below!”

 

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

My Name Is Chronic Pain

 

I wake you every morning,

And kiss your nighty night.

Never bringing hope for tomorrow,

And you ask god to take your life.

 

If only they could see me and have evidence that I’m here

Maybe you could plan for the future.

But right now, you don’t care.

 

You have it all on the outside plus,

two precious little boys.

But you can’t have fun and enjoy them,

Only watch and hear their noise.

 

I’m buried in your bones,

nerves and muscles too.

No one can hear your cries.

What are you supposed to do?

 

Was it my own doing?

Or someone’s evil deeds?

I take every ounce of energy you have.

Until you’re on your knees.

 

“God where are you?” you scream feeling trapped and all alone.

 You can’t enjoy your simple life,

Inside four walls you call your home.

 

We don’t see anything wrong,

Your X-rays they look alright.

But just in case you start to hurt,

Take Advil and use a pack of ice.

 

Again, I have hidden from them,

and there’s nothing they can see.

You feel you have no other way,

trapped and inside you grit your teeth.

 

“Get up! And Move around,” they say,

And this treadmill will be the key.

 But the only activity that you can do,

 are rolling down your cheeks.

For to Drain the life is the final choice

the only path for relief.

You’ve done the best you could do,

As a group referred to as “we.”

 

It is hell inside your body though no one else can see.

Doctors couldn’t help you and silenced are the pleads.

The boys always wonder why momma doesn’t play.

You smiled and made them laugh, as long as you could stay.

 

They say you’re selfish while your color is turning increasingly blue. 

But I’m too strong and you did the best that you could do.

Theres no way for you to understand the battle of every

 day.

You have become trapped within a cell that hurts more even if you pray.

 

I pose this question to you all, “What if it was you?”

How long would you live in a mental and physical hell? And what would you do?

 

But I’m still here forever,

just like an ugly stain.

Let me introduce myself.

My name is CHRONIC PAIN.

**Don’t forget the video below!**

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darnold1975

Splish! Splash! I Was Taking A Bath

“If you can’t laugh at yourself, life is going to seem a whole lot longer than you’d like.” 

~ Natalie Portman

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away! Instantly, I feel better. I need to make a confession. A few weeks ago, I had elbow surgery. No big deal. I’ve had many surgeries throughout my life. Most have been knee surgeries. This time, though, it was going to be “baptism by fire” on how to bathe with one arm. I do my best by keeping the cast dry. This should’ve not been an issue because I’ve done the same thing after knee surgeries. But this time, would prove itself different. 

I get my game plan to hold my arm up while attempting to sit down in my bath water. Uh oh! Ok this little snafu I had not factored into my plan. How would I get down in the water? Just in case I had misjudged my actions, I tried it again. Oh my gosh! My older body was letting me down. I begin thinking about the situation that I’m now faced deal with. I couldn’t call my close friends because if they saw me now, they would be in therapy the rest of their lives. Plus, one of them already has issues with gravity.  She would laugh hysterically while shouting, “KARMA!”  “I couldn’t call coach. Because who would? And I’m also one of those kids that always said, “I do it!”

I develop a new game plan while thinking, “If survivors from the Titanic disaster made it then a measly bathtub situation should be no problem, right?” I began squatting but still I could do nothing but hover over the water. Finally, I realize that the only solution is to just let go and fall in the water the rest of the way. I begin counting “One, two, three. Wait! Wait! Do I let go on three or two?” When you have parts, the agreeing on things internally is seldom accomplished. Some were already laughing. Mainly the teenagers. The kids were saying over and over, “One, two, three Go! One, two, three go!” Others say, “OMG this is going to be a disaster! Call coach! Yes, ask for what you need!” I shout, “Shut up! I’m to keep us alive!” To which the rebuttal comment is “Oh wow! That was not said in a loving kind of way.” My only other statement at this point was, “Well, I don’t feel “Loving” right now!”

Seeing no other way around this situation, I let go and fell back into the bathtub. I remember thinking, “Am I still alive? I accused the bathtub and karma for attempting to drown me.”  One little insider was screaming, “I’m drowning! I’m drowning!” I say, “No you’re not! You just have water in your eyes!” Neither me, the tub nor the bathroom would ever be the same. I felt like I had just done a cannon ball off the diving board. And what had come of it was a tidal wave of water in every inch of that room.

“If you allow others to laugh with you, you will be great.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! I told you I could do it!” I said. So, I took my bath with one arm out with no further incident. I was just going to keep the situation secret and in my back pocket for some time later down the road. I start attempting to get out of the tub like I do with my knee. And I soon realized that I had not thought about how to get back out of the bathtub. So, now I’m trapped in a bathtub and have no idea how I’m going to get out.” Hellfire and damnation! What do I do now?” I shouted. A few minutes go by, and I eventually make it back onto my feet and out of the bathtub. Karma got me good!

~ Martin Niemoller

***Don’t forget to watch the video***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Promise Part 2

“When [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd”.

Matthew 9:36

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Now I’m ready! I thought I could finish writing this later. But No, cigar! Now is as good a time as any other.

I keep coach very up to date with my thoughts and close attention with my “parts.” My main protector has been upset for quite a while. She’s willing to try to derail me in any possible way. So, naturally, I wondered why? Like most teenagers, she has once again, began striking out in fear.

I don’t typically do well with guided imagery. In the past, I’ve gotten tickled and would create some type of comedy. I’m always the one in the room when therapists start with creating a scenario like, “walking into the woods and becoming one with your senses.” What do I see? What do I hear? What do I feel? And then I’m the dufus and speaks up by saying, “It was me that stepped in it! I’m sorry for the smell!” And as if that wasn’t enough I would add this one in just for giggles. “Oh No! It’s a tornado in the distance! It’s coming straight for us! Run!” I know it’s silly. Since working with my coach, I haven’t done anything like that. You begin to realize when you take things in perspective. All I know is that I was tired of constantly trying to run away from things that are much bigger than me.

I settle in and begin breathing while coach guides me to facing the pain.  My protector had a death grip on that baby. Vowing to protector her at all cost I thought, “Oh boy! Here we go again.” I’m doing my best to stay focused when I heard, “And just imagine that Jesus is standing there.” I froze while watching the interaction in my mind. Jesus spoke up and said, “Bring me the baby.” The protector surprisingly froze and all the angry words leave as soon as they had appeared. She slowly walked to Jesus and hands him the baby. The angry protector doesn’t say or do anything in protest. And for the first time in my life, the baby is calm and falls asleep on Jesus’s shoulder. The protector takes her cue by turning with Jesus’s hand on her shoulder. She too had a calmness that many have been unable to achieve. And she says only in a way that fits her perfectly, “Don’t worry. Jesus has our back!” Jesus then says, “Go ahead. You’ve been waiting for this your entire life, my child. I will provide all the protection that is needed for all of them and you.”  I felt calm and reassured that I was making the right decision.

 During, “The Passion Of The Christ” diamond painting project, I was told that he would never leave me. And had left me to help in securing my insecurities. And I remembered that I heard something that was said in an earlier encounter, “Me and the father will give you the strength you need.” And I realized that the gift in this encounter was that No one said that it would be easy. Jesus upheld his promise that he was not abandoning, any part of me, no matter the number. And so me and my parts begin the difficult road of healing the most difficult part of our trauma.

It is through these seven gifts–wisdom, understanding, counsel, knowledge, fortitude, piety, and fear of the Lord–that we grow in holiness and are continually reminded of God’s loving presence within us and around us.”

– John 14:26 

***Don’t forget to watch the special two videos on the bottom***

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darnold1975

The Promise

“Don’t be afraid to celebrate a promise when kept. In doing so, you’re the potential for a better world.”

-Unknown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Ok, much better. Today I am going to write about a recent occurrence in therapy. Through some recent events, therapy has led in the direction to tackle my core issues about my adoption. Truly I can say that it’s not a day that I have been looking towards with excitement. It is so necessary, in fact, that I still shiver about how painful it will be. For those that don’t know, it is a topic so strong and powerful that the thought of it makes me want to vomit. However, it’s something that has caused a dark cloud to follow me in every facet of my and for the majority of my life. The very mention of the topic causes a retraction that is so instantaneous and powerful, that I don’t feel that I have a weapon in my arsenal strong enough to stand a chance against its negativity. 

I have trusted my coach on so many occasions for when it would be the appropriate timing to tackle different traumatic events. But the timing of this one, I would soon realize that no matter when she would decide on that “perfecting timing” it would never be convenient. I have written and spoken about it many times. And most of the time, I do so from my brain instead of my heart. I knew instantly that it would require a level of trust that I struggle to accept. After 8 years of doing therapy with her, I should know and feel that it’s been long enough to tackle the “primal wound.”  And I ashamedly still don’t know if I’m ready. I get some specifics about the plan, and I sit with the idea for a few days knowing that coach has never led me astray. And she ALWAYS has my best interest at hand. 

A few days went by, and I decided that no matter how scared, I would at least try. Seeing the strength and compassion in her eyes that I felt when I first met her told me that everything would be “ok” despite the agonizing pain. The biggest protector in my “system” of many distinct parts of myself is held by a 13-year-old that would give anyone a run for their money. She has protected me so many times from total annihilation on so many and very distinct levels. And this time would be no different. Once she realized that I had agreed to do the work, she immediately began throwing up roadblocks. The infant part of me is the most ferociously defended of any type of perceived threat. And I told “coach” what has been occurring. This defender is “top notch” at keeping me safe. But will also sabotage things out of fear. Some of her tactics were immensely helpful during traumatic events. However, she is still reactive during peace time. And this causes therapeutic roadblocks that can throw a “monkey wrench” in about any plan.

Coach and I begin the session with some guided imagery that helps me to prepare for the monumental task before us. What I begin to see is that this “protector” is holding hostage the newborn baby part. And she has always been inconsolable. No matter the situation, this little baby is like a an infant with colic. There is nothing that has helped her agonizing cries EVER! There is no amount of compassion that has been able to comfort her. She is non-verbal but her emotions are so uncategorical that I am not able to capture it with words. I am not able to listen to lullabies or tolerate the sound of a baby crying. When the boys were little their cries flew all over me. But at that time, I didn’t know how to do anything but run from the situation. I thought to myself, “How do people deal with a baby crying both inside their heads and as parents. What I didn’t know, at that time, was that “normal” people don’t hear things like that. I wouldn’t understand my pain until I understood the reason for the crying. And then one day the “A-HA” moment happened. She was retracting from the pain that occurred when me and my “birth mom” separated.

When I met my birth mom many years ago, she said to me what I had always feared, “You were an inconvenient then and you still are!” I can’t tell you how bad that hurt. And I still can’t understand how that must’ve felt like for a newborn baby. I could, however, understand what it was like for a 30-year-old adult. It was absolutely the worst pain imaginable. The rejection was like no other situation that I had experienced. And to put that much fear and pain on a little bitty baby was something that I would have to find healing from at some point. 

I tried everything I could think of to fill that hole to bring me some level of comfort. I have tried drugs, alcohol, self-harm, relationships and nothing was strong enough. Coach would have the answers. But would I have the courage to step out on faith and take her hand as guidance once more? Not long ago I would speak with a resounding, “NO!” What I didn’t know was how very quickly I would change that lifetime of pain with a different answer.

“Faith consists in believing when it is beyond the power of reason to believe.”

-Voltaire

***Don’t forget to watch the video at the bottom***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Paranoid and confused

“Paranoid? Probably. But just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean that there isn’t an invisible demon about to eat your face.”

Jim Butcher, Storm Front (The Dresden Files)

Since I have decided to write again, I have looked at some of my therapeutic roadblocks. Easily I would say that paranoia and anxiety are two of the most disturbing. Regretfully, this has taken me down some dark places and terrifying moments in life. And it is getting worse. It’s an immediate divergence that strikes fear in every part of my being. Let me explain how I’ve gotten to this point.

When I was a young child the guys that molested me, who I thought were my friends, decided it would be fun to step out from behind bushes wearing a mask and a black cape. They would begin walking towards like a scene from the movie Halloween. And it absolutely terrified me. As a middle school student with a very openly aggressive teacher, I was accused of things that I didn’t do. Falsifying instances about my behavior and sent to the office kept me in a state of panic that it would happen again.

Later in life, I was stalked for 14 years daily. And when things were going good inevitably bad things would begin to happen yet again. I was being followed constantly by some of the individuals that I wouldn’t identify until much later. Conversations that I had with people were known even when the conversations were benign. I was set up several times being told that we would talk openly. But when I would show up, the police officers were called without any provocation. I was found by one of my perpetrators at a domestic violence shelter by way of his professional job. Once found I was asked to leave because it posed a threat to everyone else. I was handed back over to my monster and subsequently lost faith in a system that promised me safety. I feared for my life every single day. The mind games were how I was held captive. I was also sitting in my car at another arranged meeting only to have those same men jump out from behind bushes. They got into my vehicle choking me until they took my keys, leaving me on the pavement, stunned and panicked at what I never saw coming. I was also held at gunpoint arranged by those same two men. During this same era, I was followed home by an employee that I worked with. As unnerving as it was, I told my husband only to be told, “You must’ve had something to do with it.” Little did I know that the individual was a convicted rapist. 

At another job, to get some overtime hours, I had to work closely with a man that scared me to death with his advances.  Once again, I told my husband. Instead of compassion and support, I was accused of having something to do with that as well. I took it to the upper management only to be told, “That’s absurd. We know that it was more likely you because of the way you met your husband.”  I was devastated at their comments. And was soon out of a job.

Several years ago, when I was living in Albuquerque, NM. I stopped at a redlight where there was construction, bumper to bumper traffic and only one lane. An obviously sick drug addict jumped into my car demanding money. Terrified that I would lose my life I tried to remain calm, and he eventually got out of my car after pleading with him to let me go home to my wife and children. He eventually got out of my car, and I quickly sped off. There was also a situation that occurred right up the road from our house that involved a shooter going into a females’ job site fatally wounding her and others. We lived on the military base which provided a sense of security with my fear of being found by former perpetrators. However, there were frequent security threats that would occur often. And we were living in a safe area since we lived on the base. However, right off the base it was called, “The war zone.”  I downloaded an app to identify registered sex offenders in our area since we had our first child. I kid you not. It looked like we were living in “Rapeville.”  While it was a beautiful part of the country. It was an extremely violent city.

I moved to Texas for a few years to do therapy and the fear of being found stayed with me daily. I eventually cut off contact with most people in my life. And I left the unsafe safety of four walls in my private cell only to go to therapy. I had gotten to the point where I was terrified of driving in that big city traffic and needing a driver to get me from place to place. The years of being scared had taken their toll. 

And when I finally moved back home to Mississippi where my trauma originated the years of fear and paranoia still has me in fear of everything. I have come face-to-face with perpetrators since living here. And it feels every time like the day it first happened. I question the motives of people that I should not question. I read into situations that never need attention. And the very few places that I do go usually end with me sweating, panicked, terrified and wanting to get back to my house as quickly as possible. I will go with close friends to eat occasionally. But I’m never relaxed. Even though I limit the amount of news I see, there is never a shortage of school shooters and other violent crimes that are seen on any type of news media. Has anyone laid a hand on me in a long time? No. I don’t fear “what is.” I fear the “possibility of what can.”

How do I learn to trust and continue with my life? I have absolutely no idea. I’m not even sure if that concept is feasible. I try so hard to trust the coach. But often my fears take over. How do I begin to relax from a life that seems to have always been chaotic and in crisis? I used to always be eagerly looking for the next confrontation that had become a way of life. But today I fear confrontation, people and life. I have always wanted to be free from the bondage of many different things. 

I hide a lot of fear with a smile as I have for many years. But there are still days where I must have an escape plan just going to the mailbox. Maybe some of my fears are irrational to others. But conditioned I am. How do you go through things like that and not remain fearful of seeming innocent situations? The idea seems impossible. Do the kids who went through Columbine proceed without doubts and fears? No. Survivors are still plagued with ptsd and the fear that bad things can happen. I am in no way comparing my trauma to the same level as a victim of Columbine massacre. But I wake up every morning staring fear into the eyes of my own reflection. I’m not hanging onto the past. The past is hanging on to me. And I always wonder what is the next thing that I’m going to have to try and survive?

““Chronic anxiety is a state more undesirable than any other, and we will try almost any maneuver to eliminate it. Modern humans are living in anxious anticipation of destruction. Such anxiety can be easily eliminated by self-destruction. As a German saying puts it: ‘Better an end with terror than a terror without end.”

— Robert E. Neale, “The Art of Dying.”

 

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Why Didn’t I Leave A Harmful Therapist

Why I Didn’t Leave A Harmful Therapist?

“The reality is that for most of us trying to overcome therapist abuse (regardless of whether it is sexual, emotional, spiritual, etc.) very few other people have any idea what we are going through (even the mental health professionals we finally get up the courage to see after the abusive ones to try and pull ourselves back together). And because of that, healing can be significantly more difficult than it should be.”
—Michelle Mallon

I’m having a difficult time trying to find the words to describe my experience. The therapist that I’m talking about is one who was very ego driven. She put her ego before her ethics. And when it came to practice EMDR it was done 4 days a week with no processing time. She was also a very dominate and alpha female. I just went along with whatever she said and then I started becoming sick and before therapy I began to vomit. She worked her way into my system and began working with my main protector to whom she gave a lot of attention to in order to get to our well protected children. All my trauma was turned on with EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing), but nothing was ever resolved. This form of therapy usually works well for those with trauma, but I was always in crisis mode making it very dangerous to use this method.
Mel and I were lied to more often than we could count. And she didn’t want Mel’s input on anything. Red flags were flying high and I was still about giving her a chance in the name of loyalty. She also knew that I wasn’t a snitch, so she never worried about me turning her into the state licensing board. My psychiatrist was also considering dropping me as a client because she was retraumatizing me. While having him prescribing my meds was impossible. Before I knew it, I had become trauma bonded to her just like my ex-husband. I feared doing anything other than what she wanted. There was also information that was given to an acupuncturist that was done outside of the date on the release of information form. I had become her emotional hostage. I was looking for the good times that I remembered about the promises that she had made and well…I came up empty handed.

therapist abuse

Like many times with other perpetrators in my life I became frozen with fear about what to do. So, out of fear I continued seeing her. It’s easy to say, “Well just leave her and turn her in.” But I was terrified to do anything. I became very suicidal and my behavior became very erratic and impulsive more than normal. The one thing I learned when I was younger was snitching gives you a very dangerous label. So, no matter what, I was not going to snitch.

Therapist abuse is using the imbalance of power in the therapeutic relationship to… Control, manipulate and exploit clients (https://patch.com/maryland/odenton/what-is-therapist-abuse).
Clients who have suffered abuse in the past may not be able to distinguish between what is a violation and what is therapeutic (https://patch.com/maryland/odenton/what-is-therapist-abuse).
The power and influence the therapist has, has a lot of potential to do a lot of good and by the same token it also has the power to cause severe damage that could have long lasting effects on the client (https://patch.com/maryland/odenton/what-is-therapist-abuse).

When I met “Coach” I was so afraid of professionals that I didn’t want to have anything to do with her or any other therapists. I related their position to fear and abuse. I was unbelievably scared of anyone that I perceived in a position of authority and would strike out at them and try to run them off. Coach saw through my pain and showed compassion instead. I was so hurt by some of the things that were done and said by the other therapist that almost four years later I’m still, at times, having difficulties in the therapeutic relationship. I trust coach 110% as a person. But her position as a therapist still frightens me at times especially when discussing certain areas of my trauma. I have always felt bad that she had to clean up and deal with someone else’s mess. But, I so glad I met her. After having such a bad and abusive therapist, it’s comforting to know that there are still some that are incredibly compassionate. And I got the best one. Yes, I’m very biased. Thanks, Coach!!!!
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

My Parts And Change

My Parts And Change

“DID is about survival! As more people begin to appreciate this concept, individuals with DID will start to feel less as though they have to hide in shame. DID develops as a response to extreme trauma that occurs at an early age and usually over an extended period of time.”
― Deborah Bray Haddock, The Dissociative Identity Disorder Sourcebook

I don’t know why I’ve decided to write another blog so soon. Maybe it’s because I’m so eager to get back home that the loneliness of this room has taken its toll. But maybe it’s also because my parts are talking so loudly about the upcoming change that it’s hard to do anything else. I still hold true to my beliefs about the benefits of my two years of hard work and the spirituality that I hold near and dear. But to ignore what my parts are saying would go against everything I’ve learned. So, I’ve decided to give this some attention.
My child parts are like typical children. They’re excited to know that they will be able to play with Marshall and Copeland soon. They look forward to being around them again and to once again. And a certain little 5-year-old looks forward to being able to play with her chap sticks that have carefully been sent back home at an earlier date. They also long for a parent’s love to help ease the scariness of this new change.
My teenagers have a menagerie of emotions like most teens. Some are ready to go NOW and are having a hard time with patience. They all look forward to this scary but new life and experiences. My once loud and aggressive protector is the one who is surprisingly calm during this time of stress. She has always been the one no one could get close to. But through healing she has become one that knows her place and realizes that everything isn’t about a fight. The kid that she is longs for someone to simply hold and support her while this change happens. She’s not afraid to admit that she’s scared. But she also knows that she’s still one of the backbones of strength and courage in my system. Instead of being a part of aggression she has found and made peace with her trauma and now works with us all instead of causing chaos. She has become one of the hardest working parts in relation to recovery. And she holds tightly the words of our dear Sarah close to her heart.

you survived

She was hands down the loudest but most damaged alter I have. Her loyalty to our coach and our system is comes from a place that’s admirable and loveable. And I must admit that having her working with us for several months now is something that makes my heart leap for joy. Her heart is open and healed and has become one of my parts that I couldn’t live without. She one that has brought about the most change and has remained open to love, peace and happiness. My part that is her direct opposite and wise beyond her years is still strong with positivity. Very simply put she brings light to the darkness. The desires of her heart I won’t share but peace from within is what she exudes.
My athlete and student are parts that keep us all going. Having the respect for our dear coach they both repeat the phrase, “Stay the course and trust coach. She hasn’t led us astray yet and we need her right now. We trust her because she’s proven trustworthy. Listen and follow her guidance because she will help lead us home safely.” And I must admit that writing keeps “the student” occupied.
A few of my adult parts looks forward to helping Mel raise the boys. They also bring about nurturing and grace on a daily basis. They look forward to being role models for my children that will help me to be the mother I need to be. I have other desires of my heart but none more important than the ones that foster my being able to take care of myself instead of having to be taken care of. I look forward to being able to take care of myself instead of being trapped within myself and frozen with fear.
All these parts make up me, Dana Landrum-Arnold. I’m proud of who I am now and what I can become as a person in the future. My heart longs for many different things. And I’ll admit that I’m very nervous. But when I look back on the days of Texas, I can say that it has been the most rewarding and difficult time of my life. I have worked harder for this resolution of my trauma then anything else. The scars of my story are evident on my arms and my heart. But the peace I’ve fought so hard for is written all over my face and heart as well. I now see myself as one who has discipline, courage, strength and love to share with anyone who will accept it. I am a good person who a set of individuals tried to destroy a little at a time. What I was blessed with was several parts of myself who fought my battles and took care of me for many years regardless of how maladaptive the behaviors were. And now I’ve grown to the point that it’s time that I take care of them and my responsibilities as Dana. They helped me to survive and now I will help them to thrive. My name is Dana Landrum-Arnold and I have a story to tell.
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Angelica (poetry)

Angelica

She was still one that no one wanted around

Being kicked aside she was found

But no one had know her job

For she stepped up and sobbed

She was treated like property and chained like a dog

Submissive she was but she drew the short straw

Some would label her as an outgoing whoreface.

And she would have a scarlet letter she always wore

No one chose to get to know her only a label assigned

But she would soon get a new name designed

Her name would be Angelica and all she needed was grace.

For this would be the new name for her delicate and child-like face

#thispuzzledlife