Second Guessing

Can I get a restart? On life, or can I go back a few chapters? Does anyone remember those choose your own adventure books? Well I think quite a couple of the choices I made weren’t the wisest.

I suppose it’s something that comes along with the disorder right? Like a very shitty “buy one get one free”, in which you never bought the initial product but somehow got given it anyway, and the initial product was a pile of literal shit, and so now you have two piles of literal shit that you don’t have a receipt for and are unable to take back. . .

Things at current are tough, but as the saying goes, “you get that in the big jobs”… I’m unemployed.

Anyhow, do you ever have those moments where someone else questions your reality, and then in turn, you begin to question it yourself? That’s me as of late. Trying desperately to just keep pushing through it all, staring every morning at the lightbox on our windowsill that quotes ” remember why you started”, which in itself is quite funny really, because there is very little that I remember.

Memory is a funny thing. Is there ever any actual way of knowing that your memory is real if there is nothing that has encapsulated it, like a photograph, or a movie. Sorry if I caused you to question reality by me asking that. Self doubt comes in waves, mostly about the bad memories, but because of the absence of..

Grr, I’m losing my train of thought. Trying to listen to Spotify and blog, which honestly is something that I like doing. It has just been a big past few weeks I suppose, like 2020 is a whole retrograde of it’s own and it seems like it is planning to go out with a bang.

So let me try talk about my surroundings rather than any existential crisis. We are living in a new place.. honestly I don’t want to blog about that right now either. I’m frustrated, upset, disappointed, a lot of emotions, some somewhat contradicting one another. Too many thoughts to make sense of but I’m okay, trust me, I’m okay. Emotions are healthy, me sitting with them, identifying them, having them, is healthy, it’s good for me , whatever ‘good’ means nowadays.

I am beyond thankful for our therapist, the progress we have made with her in the past year, the understanding of our own mind and disorder… Welcome to the nonsense that is this blog post, my thoughts are everywhere and I’m not going to change this so it makes sense because honestly it doesn’t, things right now don’t make sense, have things ever made sense?

*sigh* Can I get a restart? On life, or can I go back a few chapters? Does anyone remember those choose your own adventure books? Well I think quite a couple of the choices I made weren’t the wisest. I have nothing comprehensible to add to this post I’m sorry. Therapy today was a lot, and has me a little bit lost for words yet full of a mixed bag of emotions.

-?

Freefalling

I’m not sure how much of a mood listening to “freefalling” as an acoustic cover is while writing a blog… but it just feels like it should be considered a “mood”. Not to mention this is straight after what feels like a decade long BPD meltdown over whether or not I am an ongoing problem in our poly household relationship. *sigh*

I am unsure if Moxie is in co-con or whether I myself just genuinely feel like writing something about my feelings. Mum’s older sister messaged me the other day on Instagram after I decided finally to follow her off of our DID account. y’know, the one we actually use. I often wonder what our family, or at least, what certain family members think that I am up to nowadays. Like, I always feel like I have been the black sheep of the family, and perhaps that’s because in the most literal sense, I was. Growing up in a white family kind of had me feeling very confused… also note that I am saying “me” more as an overall “me”, because a variety of system members have different memories of growing up.

P.s I’m totally not in blogging for decent grammar or vocabulary, and am sorry if none of this makes sense to some.

Dad got me a phone as a gift when I was about 8 or 9, it was a Sony Ericson, small brick of a phone… The idea behind it was that I’d be able to receive calls from him in between visits (which to be honest were pretty few and far in-between). Of course as any kid in 2002 would be, I used to love the game ‘snake’, but phones back then had far slower response times than smart phones nowadays. I remember the numerous occasions in which I would bite the sides of the phone if the snake didn’t turn on time, resulting in me having to start all over again/losing my high score. I remember the countless times that I had to reinsert the battery after yeeting the darn thing across my bedroom. One birthday, we were given a spy diary, can’t for the life of me remember the name of it at the moment. The one though where it records your voice and then you can unlock it using your secret password, otherwise could access it by wedging a screwdriver in-between the plastic opening. I had to set up that diary on the night that I got it, which probably was in the middle of my birthday party at home, I think there were smarties either on a cake or in those small snack boxes that year. Because my bedroom didn’t have a ‘proper’ door so to speak, the sound from the living room travelled into my room. Trying to set up voice recognition in the early 00’s was an absolute pisstake for those of you that are unaware (shit, it was pure shit). I had to sit in my cupboard to try set it up, and then when it worked and I went to show my uncle that it was working, the piece of shit still didn’t recognise my voice, instead of opening it responded with “access denied”. I believe eventually he helped me set it up, he is the most tech savvy out of everyone in our family.

The point of that paragraph was that I used to get quite emotional as a kid, which to be fair, I still do as an adult, but I suppose one could say I have better control as an adult… or more appropriate responses perhaps?

An hour of vent typing and existential crisis later, I’m losing track of my thoughts and whose thoughts are mine. My aunt has seen the message I sent her, potentially even responded… I’m anxious to see what she says. I also need to message dad back, and mum. Emotions make life so complicated some times.

Kai

Is this blogging?

You’re talking about an issue with your therapist which may perhaps be surface level of an iceberg or what you think is the main focus, then as you begin to bounce back talking points with your therapist, you finally realise what the main issue was all along and the feelings that come along with it.

Okay first attempt at a blog, which I’m trying to view as a longer yet more personal version of a twitter post. I want to talk a bit about what we, well, what I was discussing with our therapist today and how it was one of those ‘revelation’ moment type of sessions. For those of you whom like us, have had the privilege of being able to access a good therapist, you know exactly what I mean by one of those moments; for those who haven’t however, allow me to explain.

 You’re talking about an issue with your therapist which may perhaps be surface level of an iceberg or what you think is the main focus, then as you begin to bounce back talking points with your therapist, you finally realise what the main issue was all along and the feelings that come along with it. That is probably a super simplified version of what happens, and I’m hoping it kind of makes sense to begin with, though I’d invite you to keep reading so I can explain further my personal experience from today.

Typically it is myself, Moxie, that goes to therapy, though our therapist always invites everyone to join, which for the most part, quite a few of the others are in passive at least. Today it was mainly myself, B, Jett, Charles, Elijah, and Felix, though I’d also assume Ether was around as she often helps me out during therapy sessions to calm my anxieties and assist me in verbalizing my emotions/thoughts. Anyhow, when our therapist asked what we would like to focus on today, after scraping though my mental notes that I swore to myself this time I would write on a piece of paper as to not forget yet still didn’t do, I remembered that it had something to do with speaking to mum again the other day. We hadn’t spoken to her since perhaps mid-September, which for us is a somewhat long time.

Once we moved to Sydney in 2018, I no longer ‘had’ to see our family, daily messages became weekly messages which in turn became “oh sorry I haven’t messaged in a month, things have been crazy busy”. Then our nan passed away mid-year unexpectedly and I still don’t think we have gotten over that. She was the first person in our family to pass away (at an age where we could comprehend it), she was the person that our positive childhood memories are linked to the most. It was such a crushing phone call to get from mum as we were getting ready for work, but of course we carried about our day at the call centre, and others were none the wiser. We had dissociated past it. Even on the day of her funeral, we shed a few tears before emotionally disconnecting. Many of our child parts are still stuck in the memories of when she was alive, unable to quite distinguish that many years have since past.

When does a blog post become an autobiography?

Nans favourite flower was a lily, and two days ago, we decided to get a tattoo in her memory. After we got it done, I remember the first thing I wanted to do was to send mum a picture to ask what she thought of it.  When I opened my messenger app, I had a small chuckle to myself that the last conversation we had was on the 16th of September. Note: this is mostly my fault. She used to message me more frequently, but I just gradually stopped responding. Every now and then we have conversation over a day or so, and then no messages for another few weeks. Not to mention, I don’t actually think I have spoken to her on the phone for about a year now ? I know I haven’t been back home to visit family since my birthday in July 2018 I believe. I now rely though on mum to fill me in on the latest details in the rest of my immediate family’s life, perhaps I am too anxious to ask them myself, especially when I have probably left them on read for a year or so. I miss them immensely, but am so afraid to rekindle the relationship for a number of reasons

For too long we have been stuck in a purgatory of distancing from family so we don’t have to tell them about the trauma. How hurt they would be about what happened, how hurt they would be for us to accuse someone of that if they refuse to believe it, how that could impact our mental health, how in turn that could further distance our relationships with them. But we are now at a point where we have nothing to lose there. As I was explaining that to our therapist today, I don’t mean that in a literal sense, as the implications are quite large to come out about that, instead, what I mean is that we don’t talk to many of them anyway, so the outcome of losing contact with some of them is really no different to how it is now. It just feels like we are carrying this huge secret and we are scared to tell them. There is much more to the process of being open with them about how our disorder eventuated, but I think gradually as a collective we are coming to the point where we need to tell them in some manner in order to be able to move forward into other aspects of our healing.


We still have such a long way to go, in terms of actually helping the parts most affected by that main abuser, and others that occurred throughout childhood…

Am I scared? Yes, I’m absolutely shit scared for all involved and where this road will lead, but we have been stuck at these crossroads for far too long, which in itself has been damaging to our wellbeing. So where to from here? Our therapist says our choice to do this needs to be done as a slow process, of which I agree, and I’m sure Charles also sees it that way also. From here, I decided to reach out to one of our older cousins, as she also has struggled with her fair share of mental health issues/ breakdowns over the years. I’m finally going to take her up on the dinner offer she gave to me many months ago. This is not to say that I will jump straight into “this happened to me you have to believe me please” right away, more so that I want to take the steps to undistance myself, then to work out the best way to talk about my struggles and why I have shut everyone out since I moved out in 2018.

And that’s where we are at as of now. Our ‘homework’ for the fortnight (our therapist is away next week) is to discuss this together, finding out how each part of the system feels about the idea of reconnecting with family / discussing with family why we have been isolating