Emerging Alli

Today

2008-10-17T19:25:00.001-07:00

D.I.D. in Pictures

2008-10-17T19:04:00.000-07:00

Did this once before and the blog got messed up so I deleted it.

It's a very simplistic explaination of what DID is like.

Growing up, it was like this:

There were many me's, all separate from each other, unaware of the others' existance. Only one alter could be in control of the body at one time.

Once I started my healing journey and became aware of all of the others, it felt like this:

I became aware enough of the adult me to see the others when I was in charge of the body. It felt like I had hundreds of people within me trying to get out.

Once I began to meet all of the alters and make some of them aware of me, the adult me, it became more like this:

I now understood there were no separate people living inside of me; it was all just ME, stuck at different points for different reasons, holding memories and emotions that I had been unable to handle during the present when they actually happened. It still did seem that each alter was so different from me; they all have different names and very few look like what I see in the mirror. We were still very separate and I could not typically remember what happened when alters were out.

And yes, it did seem that some of them were out to sabatoge or even kill me to silence us and keep the secrets.

I think where I am now is this:

I know the pieces are just me, and we will one day be one whole person who exists only in the present. It is like the puzzle pieces that make up Alli are all out of place and glued down to the table in the wrong spots. Each day, they seem to be easier to move into the correct position so that I can keep moving step by step from:

And just be

Return to Normalcy

2008-10-12T19:09:00.000-07:00

Or would be if I had the slightest idea what that meant.

I am headed back to work tomorrow; Friday was one week after the surgery; we'll see how I do. I am more sore now, actually, around where my gallbladder actually was and am trying to get my blood sugars back on track. The week before the surgery I hardly ate at all, and then who knows what all the meds did to them. Actually did eat four times today; am well on my way back to six.

In the meantime, I am grateful I missed some of October, but have to come back to it now. It is true that it gets a bit easier every year, but it still is very hard and I am already battling the agoraphobia. I would like nothing more than to lock myself in the bathroom for the remainder of the month. Thursdays cannot come quickly enough.

Gallbladder Fun

2008-10-08T18:05:00.001-07:00

Took this pic last Friday unaware that the food I would eat that weekend would trigger an attack of what was already a diseased gallbladder. It started Friday night when Allen's boss told him to take me to dinner on the company (good call too, I was getting really sick of late nights, early mornings and whatnot) so we went to my favorite restaurant of all time; HB Steakhouse. It's one of those Japanese places where they cook the food at the table. I LOVE it! Asian food is my favorite by far; Japanese, Chinese, Hunam especially and Thai. I also get Mai Thai's at HB,so that makes the night even better. Even got all dressed up and cute, which is why we stopped by my mom's to try out her new digital camera.

Saturday came around and we were lazy and decided to do the Olive Garden never ending pasta bowl deal for lunch since we had a little in the restaurant fund. Still not too bad.

Saturday afternoon rolls around and Allen's mom calls and says his sister drove in from school for her birthday and SHE didn't feel like cooking either. SO we headed to Red Lobster since his parents were paying. (Three HOUR dinner, I'll have to tell that story later).

SUNDAY comes around and after church, some of our friends who we hadn't seen in forever wanted us to grab Mexican food with them, and we didn't want to say no.

That adds up to a LOT of eating out, which I am not used to. By Sunday afternoon, I felt like a muscle across my stomach was cramping. It was a very weird sensation. I didn't feel nauseous and was able to eat fine. As the evening progressed, it got worse and worse. Getting ready for work Monday morning was so painful it made me see spots, so I called into work and called my chiropractor, still thinking it was a pulled muscle and I could go into work after getting adjusted.

Everyone in the office that I described my symptoms to asked me if I still had my gallbladder. My younger sister had hers out last August when she was only 21, so I guess it wasn't that weird for them to think mine was acting up at 26, though it is still very young. An adjustment helped, but my doctor told me my back was not what was causing the pain and to see my regular doc that day.

I made an appointment for 3:15 and hung out with my mom some. She has just gone from working 60+ hours a week to only part time (at our chiropractor's office as a matter of fact) and I have thoroughly enjoyed her being more available. As the day progressed, the pain worsened by the hour. It felt tight continuously and would cramp up so bad I would break out into a sweat. It felt pretty much like labor pains and contractions, just up higher on my abdomen.

Allen took off work to take me to my appointment. By that time, the pain was so bad that when the doctor pressed on me, I literally screamed. If you have read any of my other posts you know why that is a big deal; I was conditioned all my childhood to deal with pain and to deal with it silently. After only a few minutes examination, she told Allen she was calling the nearest ER to tell them I was on the way.

The call from the doc got me in fast. About 15 min after arrival, I was through triage and in a bed with IV fluids going. The doctor ordered an ultrasound, and since they were going to have to push pretty hard on my stomach to get a clear view, ordered me some pain killers. First good news all day. When the nurse injected me, I asked if it would make me sleepy. She doubted it, but said it all depended on my tolerance to drugs. Well, there was my answer. I barely had time to wave to Allen and slur out "Good night" so as not to freak him out before I was GONE. I never fell asleep, but just felt warm and happy and didn't care what else happened. I remember my mom and sister arriving as the silliness wore off a bit. I got some more pain killers before the ultrasound (different kind though, not as fun) and of course had to wait forever to get results. Found out after awhile that we were waiting for my urine analysis to come back. Thing was, I hadn't done one. SO we got that taken care of and the doc says there's sludge in my gallbladder and it needs to come out. I get pain killers to take home; yay!

Tues was spent finding a surgeon who could see me before next leap year. I know gallbladder removal is not emergency surgery by any means, but the attack had not stopped at all and I knew I couldn't get back to work until it was fully taken care of. Finally found one that came highly recommended that would see me that day. He did, but the presence of sludge was not enough for him to do surgery. He ordered a HIDA scan and asked me to be admitted to the hospital, but I declined. I preferred to go home so I could rest better; I know you get zero sleep in hospitals.

The HIDA scan Wed was not painful and was the only IV stick I got all week that didn't bruise terribly. The other three are still nice and yellow and gross. There was some slight discomfort as the second half of the scan actually triggered my gallbladder to release bile to see if it was functioning properly. I got some pain then, but nothing like the weekend had been.

The scan proved my gallbladder was NOT functioning at all and we scheduled surgery for Friday.

Pre-op stuff Thurs, paperwork, blood work, yadda yadda.

Friday morning they gave me my first meds and wheeled me back at 8:45 and I was fully awake in recovery by 10:30. I remember helping them get me on the operating table and that's about it until I was sitting up in the bed and asking the nurse to take off my oxygen mask. By the third time I asked, she consented and by the third time I asked if she had let my family know it was over yet, she was just laughing at me.

It was this part that I had dreaded, being with my sister last year. She had been terrible when she came out of it and in dreadful pain due to the gas they use to inflate the abdomen area so they can see. I somehow escaped all this and by the time they let my family come back to see me, I was sitting on my own, on my second glass of juice and asking for more to eat. (Found out from a family friend who is a nurse that some people react that way to the drugs. I seriously had the munchies for the crackers they were giving me.) When the doctor had come to tell Allen that the surgery was over and went well, he said he had not opened my gallbladder to see if there were any stones (my sister's had some, though sludge was all that had showed up on the ultrasound) but that it was inflamed and had junk growing on the outside of it; it was obviously diseased and infected and we made the right decision to get it out.

SO, that was my week last week. Recovering is going well. I am still very bruised, but my incisions look good. There are four; one below my belly button, one higher on my chest, and two on my right side. I am backing way off on pain meds already but still get soooooo tired soooo quickly. I have my post op check with the surgeon tomorrow, so we'll see what he says.

Now since you read that whole thing, here are some more cute pics we took Friday night before the whole thing happened.

Aren't we adorable? Ten years together, five and a half years of marriage.
Love him more every day.

My family, Mom, sister, me, Dad
(good dad, not the one you have read about on this blog)

The best man on the planet

Back on the Planet

2008-10-08T13:26:00.000-07:00

Fell off for awhile, it seems, but am back and want to write again, even if it is for my own purposes and no one will read it.

I guess the first thing I need to update on is Hurrican Ike, which ran right over us a few weeks ago. I had Thursday off to go get a second glucose tolerance test (which turned out worse than last year, gotta start being careful again) and then we shut down Friday to get ready for Ike. We had no idea how bad it would get, so we just stocked up on flashlights, batteries and water. By Friday afternoon, all of the grocery stores were completely picked over, but strange items, in my opinion at least. There were plenty of bottles of water and batteries, but the entire wall of paper towels and toilet paper at our local HEB was completely empty!!!

We lost power at about 1 am on Saturday morning and Ike came ashore on Galveston Island at about 2:15. The cell phone service was shaky at best so from 2 on we communicated with family mostly by texting, which often took hours to come through, but at least let us know that everyone was still ok. Allen and I moved to a makeshift bed on our bathroom floor at around 4 when the wind got really bad to get away from the windows on either side of our bed. My claustrophobia attacked up for awhile (amazing how darkness can make you feel as trapped as walls) but I managed to calm down by sleeping perpendicular to Allen with my feet in the bedroom and my head next to his side. For whatever reason, that made me feel a little less stuck. I knew the last thing I needed at that moment was a full scale panic attack, so I didn't care why it worked, just that I was calmer.

By 7, I was up and couldn't sleep any longer. Allen got up with me to survey the house and from inside, everything was fine. We couldn't tell about roof damage yet, but there was no water in the house, and looking into the yard, we hadn't even lost any trees. We just had a lot of mess we would have to clean up in the coming weeks.

Allen went back to bed for a few hours, while I still kept the texts going to make sure our families were alright. Got a disturbing text from my sister at 10ish saying that it wasn't over and a tree had just fallen on our parents' house, where she was staying for the storm. Once Allen got back up, we were stir crazy, so we packed up the dog in the jeep and decided to go see what we could find.

The jeep was helpful for getting over all of the debris and high water. The scariest thing we experienced was driving over a Sonic sign when the nearest Sonic was miles away.

We made it to Allen's parent's house where they had a generator out in their workshop where we were able to recharge our cell phones and get enough signal to get in touch with my family to find out they were ok, though they had a tree on the side of their house, one of the garage, and one on a power line in the back yard.

Following are some pics of my mother and grandmother's homes.

Needless to say from the pics, we are glad to all be ok and that nobody lost more in property than they did. We did not get our power back for 13 days. We obtaineed a generator that could run the frige and some fans overnight, keeping the food cold enough to make it through the day. Everything we started with got thrown out. Thankfully, two small cool fronts came through, allowing us to live slightly more comfortably even though we had no ac.

Mothers' Day

2008-05-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

Is hard for me for obvious reasons. But also for not so obvious ones.

It's hard because all who know me and know the truth ignore the fact that I am a mom. While I don't expect any expensive gifts, it would be nice to be acknowledged with the others on that day whose children are living.

I went through labor and child birth twice and have no children. I saw my first born in the hazardous waste bin after the abortion. My second was too early in the pregnancy to look like anything recognizable. I have never even seen him. (Just a guess, don't know if it was a boy; the girl I saw.)

It's really hard that no one acknowledges my cbildren on that day. Not me, but them. They get ignored and hidden once more. I am a mom. I have two children.

And I miss them.

Photobucket Fun from Cookie

2008-05-05T17:53:00.000-07:00

1. Answer each question
2. Type your answer into photobucket
3. Take a picture from the results and post

1. The age you will be on your next birthday

2. A place you would like to travel

It's Costa Rica

3. Your favorite place

4. Your favorite object

5. Your favorite food

6. Your favorite animal

7. Your favorite color

8. The town in which you were born

9. The town in which you live

10. The name of a past pet

11. A favorite celebrity

12. Your screen name/ nick name

It's an Alli Kat

13. A favorite song

14. Your middle name

15. Your last name

Not posting that here!

16. A bad habit of yours

17. Your first job

18. How you feel about your life

19. One word to describe you

Best day of my life

2008-04-15T16:41:00.000-07:00

After that last post, I felt like I needed to say some good things about my wedding. It really was the best day of my life, one of the few days I really can remember. I got to change my last name, really shedding my father, and joined myself with the greatest man I know.

This is probably my favorite of just me. Do I look 21 to you? Just barely. Turned 21 on December 28th, got married January 3rd.

Supposed to be a shot of our rings, my untouched food just spoils it. I weighed 114 lbs on this day -wayyyyyyyyyyy too small.

This is "The Alleluia" - the quintet is all my family and it is an accapella piece we sing. We did it at the close of my reception.

2008-04-15T16:35:00.000-07:00

I am livid.

My flippin WEDDING PICTURES are triggers now. This is because of all of the family that has deserted me since then, directly and indirectly. I have no one from my father's side anymore. My grandmother, two aunts and uncles and five cousins I grew up very close to. Gone. Because they don't believe me.

I went out on a limb and talked to a reporter a few weeks back, about DID mostly. He kept wanting to come back to the details of the abuse, but I am just totally not ready to say certain things out loud and knew the existance of DID and its treatment is what the article's focus was.

The next day, I got a call from her. Haven't spoken in many years. She wants to know why I am dragging her family's name through the mud, why I am going to a therapist who is putting ideas into my head and why I am lying.

Can't look at my wedding album without being reminded.

hurt

everyone

I'll never see those sweet cousins of mine again.

I have lost so many people.

Trigger

2008-03-03T19:06:00.000-08:00

Feel the need to explain how everyday objects, sounds and smells can become triggers with DID or any kind of trauma survivors. This is something one of my alters named Elise wrote to try to explain to our therapist why panic attacks were coming every time we walked past the seafood section of HEB once they started carrying whole fish. It is better now, but I still usually look the other way.

As a precursor to this one, let me explain a little about the ceremony Elise is remembering. It is one of the animal sacrifices that I was made to participate in as a means of controling and silencing me. The cult members reserved the honor of killing for themselves, but often made us believe we had done it or at least helped. The shame that followed that was one way of making us keep our mouths shut, as you saw in my post "January 17th". You'll see Elise believed she killed the animal just by looking at it because she was that evil. The mind games are unbelievable here, but it was just foreshadowing. I know I would have gone through this particular night a thousand times over if I could have saved my daughter.

She also mentions fires and drawings on the ground. I won't go into much detail here, but this was all part of the ceremony.

As usual, beware: graphic and real. Graphic language in this one too.

Yes, I can explain it, but it won't help. I can see the head of a fish, the fucking eyes. The always gaping mouth. I remember.

It was almost always a fish they made me kill. After the fires were lit and the circle drawn, I had to watch the slimy creature flop and gasp for breath. I had to keep it with me in the center of the circle, touching it if it ventured too close to the edge of the sacred circle. I loathed to touch it, but had to be careful if I vomited afterwards to keep it out of the sacred spots. Violation of the sacred circle meant I had to start all over and be first next time.

I hated being first. It meant I was blacked out before the mid ceremony and lost track of SISTER and the others. I blacked out from pain, drugs and weakness. Mostly drugs and weakness. I could stand the pain.

Once the animal had stopped moving, they made me hold it eye level with me and stare into its face, weeping from having to touch the loathed being, I had to keep my eyes open and kill it with my evil gaze. It worked every time. If I dropped it, I would be forced to my knees in the dirt, one of them would hold my throat, bending my head down to his lap as he sat crossed legged in the circle. Though he was not yet naked, I knew what would come after the killing. The creature was placed across the back of my neck and I was forced to feel its last breaths and then its death. Strong hands and an erect penis in front of me, the animal I killed behind. No where to go, no where to even shift to lessen the horror.

After it was dead and I was raped, spent from oral and vaginal violation, I lay naked looking at the sky counting stars and seconds before the ultimate. The animal was brought above my head, its eyes ripped out in front of me. It always sees they said. It will watch you forever. We will watch you forever. What we do here is always eternal forever. Nothing lasts longer than us. You are ours always. The eye was inserted somewhere different always. My vagina, rectum, ear and once down my throat. I never knew if it was really the eye or just fingers, but the younger ones believed everything that was said. I had to stay conscious as long as possible, had to obey in everyway and keep my sacred place. If I failed, another would fill it.

That fucking eye mocks me today because I failed. It sees me living free as another takes my place tonight. That slightly open mouth in the seafood section taunts me. You lost. She hurts because you couldn't take it. She'll scream tonight while you're safe in bed. We still see. We are forever.

Elise

2008-02-26T19:48:00.001-08:00

This is how I feel tonight.

2008-02-26T19:46:00.000-08:00

I've been telling a lot lately, and now that image is back at the forefront of my mind.

February

2008-02-08T20:47:00.000-08:00

February is fire and ice. It is frost on the ground by the time we were done and were heading home to pretend to sleep for a few hours before school. It is the burning cold of bare feet on frozen ground, bare back on frosted grass. It is the burn of the ceremonial fires. It is the heat of a man on top of me. It is the heat of unwanted breath on my neck. The burn of penetration.

February is when the contrasts get to be too much to take. Too many opposites functioning at once. It will drive you mad if you try to think on it too long.

Don't.

The Ceremony

2008-01-22T18:54:00.000-08:00

This is the continuation of the story "January 17th". The cult I grew up in got me pregnant that first time in 1996 on purpose, to sacrifice my unborn child. Several weeks after the abortion had been preformed in a clinic, this ceremony was conducted at a local church, a church I had before and have since attended and sung in many times. Please be kind in regards to spelling and grammatical errors. This was written by Lisa, one of my alters who was born on the night of abortion, in one shot, and I have not edited it at all.

Please read with caution. The following is graphic and true.

It's dark.

And I'm waiting..

The baby is gone, sputtered from my womb like diarrhea. They gave me ten minutes to clean my self up, redress and get back outside. Ten minutes wasn't enough.

Six weeks later and I'm waiting in white, somewhere in the bowels of the church. Fuck, I hate it here at night. It's so spooky. I can feel the darkness of this closet pressing in against me. Where were they now? The few who had noticed the cuts on my arms? How sick I was every morning? I know they couldn't know; I didn't even miss one day of school; it was forbidden. But still, they had bugged me with insipid questions when I was trying hard not to throw up right on them, the morning sickness was so bad, and now when I was stuck, where were they? Safe, that's where. Tears came again.

NO NO NO!! There was NO way I was doing it that way; not tonight.

I rehearsed my part over and over in my head to keep the tears at bay. As the air in the closet became stale and still, I had to fight crying even harder as I knew it would use up my air more quickly. If they came for me and found me passed out this time, there'd be real Hell to pay.

BONG!

The church bell rang once. I jumped in the pitch black and hit my head on something. God knows what else was in this closet with me. I just hoped it wasn't someBODY else.

CLANG. Two. I held my breath.

Silence. It would be tonight.

The door flung open and a Red Sir stood there. Shit! RED?! This was really going to happen tonight. I needed no command or hand to lead me, not that he would have touched me anyway and defiled himself in his holy relics. I stepped out, my face uncovered for once and relished the fresher air, though relief was fleeting to say the least. I held the lillies in front of me, like a wedding bouquet. My hair was pulled back; my dress was white. Blood shows up better on the white. I followed the Red, and as I stepped out, a barrage of Blacks folded in behind me, moving, as they always did, as one, like liquid, like something gelatinous. I was puzzled at this; no brothers ever patrolled me; I was obedient; there was much more than freedom from physical pain riding on it. Red's sparkly symbols reflected even the dim lights and hurt my eyes.

We passed the giant organ, looming like a monster in the darkness, seeming to breathe, to be almost alive. I shuddered, remembering times behind and underneath it. Pleading with it silently. You have seen this, You know where we are going. DO something. But it loomed large and soulless. Another enemy. Of the more common kind. Not the kind that hurt me. The kind that sat and watched.

The organ was, however, a landmark and now I knew where we were. Down the staircase and past the bathrooms, pitch flooding from under the doors. I am sweating now, passing those rooms. Remembering having to wash my mouth in the urinal. What my breasts sound like slapping against the cold wall.

Just

Keep

Walking

As we near the sanctuary, I realize the need for the black escort behind me. It is full. Every seat. Every pew. Black hooded figures sit straight and still among the candlelight. I can't tell if they are people or trash bags. Either way, I give up then and there. It is all of them. This is it. If I don't die on that alter tonight...

As we near the glass double doors, the Red on the chancel raises his arms and the chanting begins. Loud. Unusually loud. And it grows as the doors are thrown open before me. By the time I somehow get myself to the chancel they are yelling.

Then it gets unbearably fast.

Hands everywhere. Must be the Blacks; the Reds cannot touch me tonight (thank God) for I am unclean. My underwear are yanked to my knees, the white veil torn off of my head; I hear it rip. My dress is lifted to my stomach and I am flat on my back.

Lifted

Onto

The Altar

The Holy Place

To die

It is silent. I hadn't known they would all be here. This is not our group; not our small cult.

It hits me.

She is the sacrifice for them all. For the sect; for the larger cult.

I close my eyes. Have on last tremor rip through my body and know that the drugs have completely worn off. As usual. Their timing is impeccable.

I am completely terrified and aware now. Sweat is everywhere. It runs down my legs and between my breasts, which still ache and feel stretched. Calm down! I tell them. There is no baby to feed anymore. Don't you get it?

But I don't. Not tonight. Tonight she is back. I can hear them hollering at me in the car through the drug haze.

“You are still pregnant, you whore. You only thought you killed her in the clinic. You will really give her to us tonight. In our church.”

I feel the blackness coming, but awaken just enough to hear the last words as one of them not yet hooded yanks my hair.

“And you'd better scream like it's real.”

The silence continues. Time crawls again, my worst enemy. I hold the lillies on my chest and breath shallowly. I keep my eyes closed, not pinched, but peaceful. As instructed.

There are words bellowed out by the Red. I jump again but quickly compose myself. I will pay for that small movement. I am supposed to be dead.

The words continue, but I can't hear. The ringing in my ears has started. Then it turns to fizzing. Blackness even blacker than closed eyes fills my sight and I know I must stay conscious. Passing out is not an option tonight. I breath as slowly and deeply as I can without giving away my liveliness. It works. The strong smell of the lillies fill my senses. All of them. The fizziness fades and I can hear him. The Priest Red. Whom I have come to realize is my grandfather.

“In her death, we shall live!” A yell from the crowd.

“We shall gather her life force to our sigma. We will carry it with us. We will have obeyed and will be rewarded.” Another cheer. Then silence.

I feel them moving around me. My heart races and I fight passing out again. He is beside me, at my head.

“Open your eyes.”

I see the hooded faces around me, but only on three sides. The audience has to see this time. No holy circle. Presentation is more important tonight.

He leans down and gets his lips as close as he can without touching my left ear.

“Give her.”

My whole body shudders.

“Give her.”

Another tremor, not caused by drugs, but my body's feeble attempt to fight back and hold onto something that had been taken six weeks before. My uterus clamps down and spasms, looking for her, trying to hold her in. It hadn't worked against the saline. And it wouldn't work tonight.

The spasms continue as the men surrounding me start their groaning. Some cannot even resist touching themselves, they are so aroused at what is going on.

They grow stronger and are soon thrusting my hips upward and then back down so that my bare backside slaps the hard wood of the altar. Sound finally escapes my lips as the internal cramps build and my back becomes sore.

He raises his hand. The groaning and self pleasuring cease, but my gyrating takes a moment to still and finally even a Black hand on my abdomen. I lay panting and swallowing hard, trying to stop moaning with the pain.

“Take her.”

That one wasn't for me. The privileged Black moves toward me, syringe in hand.

“No!” I cannot help it. I know it is only cow's blood to squirt into my vagina and make it look like the abortion had happened here in front of all of them, but the last time a needle was plunged into me, I delivered my firstborn. Dead. And in pieces.

He chuckles and inserts in into me. I feel the oily blood going in and know it is time.

“Now. Now! NOW!” He raises his arms to the heavens and screams. Laughs that unnatural laugh. The blood begins to trickle back out.

The small groan I meant to give to placate them grows into a scream. Then another that doesn't seem to end. It doesn't seem to need breath behind it. It just goes and goes. My father shows himself to me by speaking. He holds me in a sitting position and snarls in my right ear, “Push, bitch.”

I give up. One more raspy breath in from the screaming and I push. Feel the blood coming out, pooling around my thighs. The men dip their fingers in it and smear it on my chest, my face, in my mouth.

The buzzing in my ears is back and I can't fight it this time. I scream her name and black out.

Bad week

2008-01-21T16:57:00.000-08:00

gets worse. So I tried all afternoon to get a dr appt and finally found one that has an after hours clinic. They told me to show up at 5:30. I was waiting expectantly for this appt as I have been sick for 5 days now, and I am still coughing up junk, and my chest is on fire. Got to the clinic at 5:25. I was told I was at the wrong location. Ok, no big deal. Back out into the cold rainy weather I went to try to find the other office. Finally did, at 5:45, and find out the receptionist I talked to didn't save my appointment and they are booked. SIGH. So now I am out in the rain, got lost, (of course) and wound up on I45 at 6 pm headed the wrong way.

Fantastic.

Had to call Allen to Google my location and help me get home. He was in bed cuz now he has this grunge I have been battling.

He was able to get me home, so now we are both here hacking on each other. What a week. Now I will just have to see if I can make it into the office tomorrow, or try to get into another dr.

UGH.

Sick and Tired

2008-01-21T14:22:00.000-08:00

Of being sick and tired. Been sick since last Thursday and am still feeling like crap. Now I just get to wait for 5:30 when I can go see the dr. I am so tired of sitting at home and am really getting stir crazy and cranky. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bourne movies and Memory Recovery

2008-01-17T15:52:00.001-08:00

Watched the Bourne trilogy this weekend for the first time; way cool. But of course, like so many other movies, this one is full of triggers for me. Happily, triggers no longer cause agoraphobia or panic attacks, but rather are usually just the nudge a memory sitting on the edge of my consciousness needs to be remembered.

The first thing it made me think of is how recovering lost memories is portrayed in the movies. These producers must have talked to at least a few trauma survivors as the flashes of visual memories popping in and out is quite accurate. For me, this is not the most common way things come back to me. Seeing things is usually the last part of the process. More often, it is flashes of feelings. I can be anywhere and suddenly feel the need to run and hide, or suddenly feel hot or cold. I smell things as if they were right under my nose, but which are not. The first time I began to remember the night of the last post, it came in a pain in my right side so bad, I had to leave my class with another teacher and was on the phone to my doctor asking if she had any explanation or if I should go to the emergency room. After an exam and ultrasound which showed nothing, the pain didn't stop. Once I found Richard, he laughed and immediately told me there was nothing wrong with my ovaries or appendix. It was a body memory of the saline needle going in. The mind is powerful enough to control the body like this. Scary, huh?

After a memory presents itself this way, in body memory or flashback form, I usually get sound. This is worse for me than seeing what is happening. In fact, can't say anymore about that now.

Lastly, if at all, I begin to be able to see. A lot of what happened to me occurred in the dark, so many times, there is little to remember being seen. Also, when children are afraid, they have the tendency to cover or close their eyes.

Anyway, just thought it was cool. Plus, people often ask me what remembering it is like. While hard to explain fully, this is a pretty good start.

January 17th

2008-01-12T15:00:00.000-08:00

It was Friday, January 17th, 1997. I was a freshman in high school, having just turned 15 on December 28th. I was waiting for my mother to pick me up from rehearsal (I had been cast in the school's yearly musical, this year, Damn Yankees). I sat at the entrance to the auditorium with a girl named Sarah who was working on the technical side of the show. We chatted as we both watched out the glass doors for our parents. I remember enjoying talking with her and wondering if I had a new friend in the drama department. We seemed very much alike.

Except for one little detail.

I was about 3 or 4 months pregnant.

It is my best guess, as the morning sickness had just begun to subside (although for me it was more like 24/7 sickness) and I was beginning to feel like I might actually live through the ordeal.

Life in the occult always set me apart from other girls my age, but the pregnancy had made me feel more isolated than ever. I would start showing soon (when you barely weigh 100 pounds, it happens fast) and had no idea what people were going to say. I still had received no instructions about what I was to say, although I had assured the Brothers that I could tell everyone I had slept with a boyfriend. They had said that might be possible, but I now know that those comments were made to stop the hysterics that had come when the word 'terminate' had been uttered. This time, even their threats and a few slaps across my face weren't enough to silence my tears and begging. Finally, His Highest, whom I now know was my grandfather had conceded that maybe people would believe that I had slipped up and gotten pregnant with a teen aged boy and not one of them, a man in his 30's-60's. I remember being grateful and obedient ever since.

Sarah and I discussed the rehearsals, drama, boyfriends and parents. I remember saying mine were divorced and I had to pack as soon as I got home because I was going over to my dad's. Just like every Friday night.

And then something went horribly wrong.

My father's car pulled into the circle drive in front of the auditorium and stopped.

I could see my sister in the back seat and him behind the wheel, both waiting for me to come out and get into the car. I knew instantly; it would end tonight.

The color must have drained from my face suddenly, as Sarah asked me what was wrong.

A million thoughts flashed through my mind in an instant. How stupid had I been to believe for a second that once they saw how much an abortion would kill me that they wouldn't do it? I had been weak to show them my desires; it was just ammo in their hands and I knew by now their cruelty knew no limits. He was taking me now.

And my little sister, only 10, was coming too.

"That's my father. He's not supposed to be here," I answered Sarah in a whisper.

"Well, don't go get in the car. Go hide or something."

For a brief second, it seemed so simple. What could he do if I ran now? I could hide in the bathroom. Or just go out another exit on the other side of the building. Run until I couldn't stand.

And then in the next second, it was clear that running was impossible. My sister sat in the backseat. She would pay for their plan falling through, or even being delayed. And they would find me eventually. And take my daughter from me. And punish my sister for my sin in front of me. And lastly, punish me. Or if they found me too late, she would be born and killed, ripped to shreds in front of me. Or drowned while I watched. No, I had to go. Had to let it happen.

Like lambs to the slaughter.

"No," I said, a little stronger. "It's ok. See you Monday."

I didn't look back. I got into the front seat where the bag Mom had packed for me sat. My sister didn't say hi. She had already been warned.

I saw the needle too, but I pretended not to. I turned my head to the right, acting like I was looking out of the window and answered my father's small talk until I felt the burn in my left arm. Then I closed my eyes and left.

I awoke exactly when they wanted me to. Once I was already on the table at the clinic, prepped and strapped down, but not before anything had started.

My father and one doctor were in the room. Dad surveyed me from the corner, the doctor in his sparkling white lab coat bustled about, making preparations. I had no idea how they were going to do this, just that when I left this room, I wouldn't be pregnant anymore.

I stared at the bright light above me until it got too bright, then looked at the door and blinked. Everything seemed dim after staring at it so long. This continued until the doctor looked at father and said simply, "OK."

Though there were straps across my legs and upper abdomen, father came and laid across my chest. A familiar position for the two of us to be in, but it always amazed me at how scary it is not to be able to breath. His only words of instruction to me were, "Stay awake."

I felt the hospital gown being lifted off of my stomach and was cold. Then fire entered my body through a tiny spot on my lower right abdomen, spreading like wildfire, causing me to scream. I couldn't help it. I had never known pain like this. And I had known pain. Being vaginally penetrated for the first time at age 7 hurts. But not like this.

To my amazement, there was no punishment for crying out, nor even any attempts to quiet me. I just screamed until my throat hurt while all of the saline went in. When finally it was over and father got up off of me, I thrashed against the restraints. The pin prick pain where the needle had been still hurt some, but the fire was even worse now, continuing to spread everywhere. I continued to fight and scream and gasp as the doctor disposed of the needle and washed his hands and father just looked at me. I began to wonder why screaming was allowed this time. My last scream stopped short as I realized... my sister was probably nearby. Listening. Being warned by hearing my punishment. I silenced myself and simply gagged on the screams that wanted to come out as the sedative worked its way out of my system, the saline kicked in and I began to understand the severity of my situation.

They had injected me. If they had made me swallow something, I could have thrown it back up. If they had beaten me, I could have made sure they got my head as well as my abdomen to make sure I died with my child. But there was nothing I could do now but lie and wait for her to die. Which is, of course, exactly why they had done it this way.

It didn't take long. I watched the clock on the wall. The first contraction took my breath away. The second made me find my voice again. On the third, the strap across my chest was released and now I had my hands free. I wondered at this as I felt myself being sat up. Father held me in a sitting position as the doctor released my legs and put them in the stirrups. He sat between them as the pain continued. I vomited on myself twice. The doctor looked up and nodded. I felt my daddy's breath on my ear as he whispered, "Push, bitch."

I understood now. I had to help. No lying there strapped down, a victim. I had to sit up, to participate. To help kill her.

I bit my lip as another contraction came. I wanted her. I knew she was there. I could feel her. I couldn't let her go.

"Push, whore. Kill her. You deserve to."

For the first time in my life, I told my father "No"

It only brought cruel laughter from the doctor. "Oh, she will."

"I won't!" I retorted, then gasped. Another contraction. My body wanted to obey him. Something needed to come out. I NEEDED to push. But I couldn't let her.

I felt as though hands were tearing at her, trying to pry her from me. I fought. I clenched. I tried.

And then, the hands won.

I felt her die. I felt her leave me, be torn from my womb. Once she let go, I pushed.

My only satisfaction from the whole ordeal was that the doctor wasn't prepared. He was soon splattered with our blood, mine and my daughter's. I pushed a few times, feeling my first child sputter from me. I began to cry as it finished. Father laid me back down, needing no restraints. I had never been more exhausted and empty. He joined the doctor between my legs and commented that there could be no complications, the bleeding had to stop now. I would be going back to my mother tomorrow and we couldn't risk a trip to the emergency room.

"Oh there won't be one," the stranger looked me in the eyes." If she continues to bleed, she'll be quiet about it and die in her sleep. It's what she deserves, killing her own child."

I moaned and closed my eyes. The doctor chuckled. I felt another sting on my arm. Pain killers. I had to be normal this evening.

As they kicked in and the doctor tended to me, roughly at that, I remember catching a glimpse of my father, with my head at an angle where he couldn't tell I was looking at him. He was scrutinizing me. I remember thinking that he looked sorry. But surely, I was wrong.

When the doctor left the room, father started to follow him, then stopped and turned to me.

"You can have 5 minutes." And he closed the door behind him.