I was asked the other day about sharing more of my road to recovery. Many of the people reading this blog were with me on the 6 plus years of blogging that chonicled my life as a wife, a mother and a multiple with, at times, as many as 10 active alters in my day to day life. I stopped blogging rather abruptly in '07 or '08... I'm really not sure about the exact time.
Since then, what writing I've done has been sporadic at best, and pretty avoidant and whiny at worst. I haven't written about my integration, not because the process of becoming one mind was traumatizing or difficult... but because going through that process while sharing a home with a profoundly ill person who had no recognition of her compulsive need to control every aspect of our lives was hell. Pure and simple. By the time she moved out, a few months before the process of integration was completed, I was in the worst place I'd been emotionally since I first began the road to healing from DID.
For a long time I held resentment that a period of my life I should have been able to treasure and to process in peace was dominated by the constant ME ME ME of another. (I was even reamed by one person for not allowing her to say goodbye... because, yeah... my healing was about you.)
For a really long time, I've found it difficult to separate her and another's effect on my family with my desire to write about that period of time... how could I talk about my journey without including the person from whom I could only be physically separated by literally hiding in my room? Or the person who made up the other corner of a sick and desperately co-dependent triangle? How could I write about trying to navigate becoming one person while also battling a crippling depression, triggered in large part by the person who fought not only to destroy my marriage, but to talk my husband into committing me and allowing her to raise my children... because, of course, she was the more capable. How could I write about that time in MY life without (childish, I know) giving THEM the satisfaction of being part of the story? Especially as I had, on many occasions, been expressly told I was "not allowed" to write about them?
WHAT THE HELL? So I have to shut away 2+ years of my life because I might say something less than flattering or worse, the TRUTH about you? And what the hell was wrong with me that I allowed myself to be emotionally bullied into complying with such a sickeningly selfish demand? Why did I allow myself to cut off the outlet responsible for the recovery I had attained to that point?
Bitter as this question may sound... how can someone possibly delude herself into believing she was nothing but a positive influence on my kids when only two of the kids were willing to see her when she visited today? How can anyone think they knew best for a child I knew to be dealing with an autistic spectrum disorder when her entire approach was a military style 'my way or the highway' approach? When John was told a few months ago that she might come to visit, he said "If she comes to this house I'm going to lock myself in my room until she's gone."
I know she felt rejected when told that she couldn't come to the house. I know she was certain only Charlie would go to see her at a local restaurant... the shock on her face when she saw Rachel, Daniel and me was obvious. But however much she has blamed us for all that happened ("If you hadn't ____ then I wouldn't have ___ so it's really your fault") she cannot expect the entire family to welcome her back with open arms. This house is a shelter and sanctuary... I will not allow someone into this house who threatens that... even if it's not the intent.
I've come to the realization that I've blamed her for not writing. But it is not she who whispers in my ear that the crap will hit the fan if I write honestly about that time. I'm the one holding myself back.
I want to write about that time but not if it means also talking about Cameron, Kelly, Eli, Trish, Julie, Kate, Lex, Matreshka and all the other people hurt not just by Cameron and Kelly but by me because I chose to "Keep The Peace" and allow them their way because I was too chicken to stand up and say "NO MORE".
Most of those people are, I'm grateful to say, back in my life in various ways. Cameron and Kelly are not... and for whatever healing and reconciliation may come from today's visits... I'm not willing to allow them any closer than the periphery of my life.
If either of them, though I doubt they'll look that far beyond themselves, decides to hunt down this blog and read it. SO BE IT.
I'm not making any plans about writing... I find deciding I'll do it pretty much cements the fact that I won't. I'll just say this... if it comes to me... if there is inspiration to share a portion of that time... both the wonderfully beautiful healing that came in the midst of devastation and loss and that loss... then I'll do it. The "Rules" be damned. It's my life. My journey. No one but God gets to direct it.
If I could come out of hiding long enough to face two people I'd have been happy never to see face to face again... and do it with grace and a choice to believe the best (after the initial panic and 'what ifs') then I can face the years I keep trying to stuff in an ever growing box that threatens to squash me like a bug.
For crying out loud! Nothing we dealt with having those two in my life at that time even compares with what The Crew and I overcame!
I may never be able to confront them face to face about the devastation they leave in their wake (and not just in my life) but I can damn well confront myself. Writing about it does not give it or them power over my life... it serves to free me. Six years of honest outpouring in a little blogging community taught me that.
Now her 'things' are no longer in our care (forced responsibility), it's time to drop the rest of it and move on.
No promises Valerie... but I'll try to get there. If for no other reason than The Crew deserves to be remembered and honored this way.