Distraction Day

So anxious and depressed today. A lot of commotion inside. Everything from "How could he?!" to "I have so much work to do!" The best we could do was distract ourselves, and reading seems to be the only way to do that. Even watching TV or a movie doesn't work anymore. Too easily distracted away from the distraction.

It's true, there is a lot of work to do, but there's a lot of work to do every day. We run a one-woman shop and have a lot of different jobs to do in this business. Having constant work is a good thing. Someday we might even make a living from it. But today was a read-a-book-in-bed day. Tomorrow, we have a work meeting and have to be competent. I hope!

We've done this depression/anxiety thing before, dealing with new memories or new-to-us alters. Everything is unsettled and emotions are just beneath the surface. Today this sort of conversation was taking place:

It's all in the past. It's done. Over. No one is hurting us now. Just get over it.

I'm trying but I can't help how I feel.

Do something physical. Can we at least get up and get dressed? Make lunch? I'm hungry.

If I push through this, I will pay for it later. God, it hurts. Why does it have to hurt? Why can't I just hate them?

Nononononononononoooo... Don't think don't think don't feel... he's coming back he always comes back I can never get away he'll find me and then she'll blame me and it will be all my fault it's always my fault...

I'm going to check email again. Oh no, what if someone's mad at me? What if I'm still screwing up? I can't check email now. Where's my book?

I have a lot of work to do. I'm not getting anything done! What if this goes on forever? I'm going to go broke because I can't work and then that will be all my fault.

We should end it now. If we're not here anymore, no one can hurt us. No one can be mad at us. No one will even remember us. It's safe that way.

No! That would be worse. Then people really would be angry with us. Think of the kids. We have to be here for them!

Have to focus. Have to breathe. This will pass. Where's my book?

Backlash

When I set out last night to write on the blog, I never intended to write about my mystery spirit visitor. I'd planned to write a post about how the messages I heard repeatedly as a child formed my self-worth (or lack thereof). That I was far from special. I was Not Good Enough (no matter what).

Imagine my surprise when a completely different post came about. But one of the rules we (as a DID system) decided on was that this blog was for expression and working through things, and as such, we would not delete posts written by others in the system. If someone else inside wanted to write a rebuttal, or explain another perspective, that was fine. But no destroying anything that another created.

But that didn't stop the internal backlash as a result of last night's post. It went something like this:

Such pretty words, saying anyone can benefit from the resources of the universe. But that's not true, is it? Because if everyone had conversations with spirit guides or angels or whatever they are, you wouldn't be worried about people thinking you're insane. No, you didn't reassure anyone with that post---you just set out to describe how you're oh so special and not everyone has these experiences. In fact, you'll make anyone who reads that post feel worse, not better. No one's going to want to be friends with you. No one's even going to want to like you. Congratulations.

I was really starting to question whether I should leave the post up or not. Except taking it down was against the rules. I didn't want anyone to feel worse, or to think that post was self-important. Because that's so not what I was trying to do. I really wanted to offer hope. I really believe that there are vast resources for anyone who wants them, whether it comes in the form of mysterious visitations or dreams or messages from the ancestors or unexplained knowing or visions or inspiration.

A long heartfelt talk with my IRL friend J helped a lot. She reminded me that the purpose of this blog isn't necessarily to educate or inspire (though it'd be great if it did), but to share experiences, which is exactly what I did. She also pointed out that everyone has different strengths. Some people have perfect pitch, can play piano effortlessly, or run a four-minute mile, or fly an airplane, or develop iPhone apps, or do chemistry or calculus. I can't do any of those. I just have mystical experiences.

So I won't break the rules and take it down. And I will keep reminding myself of what my counselor keeps telling us: "Your experience is your experience and it doesn't need to be anything more." And I will keep sharing, despite the critical voice(s) in my head.

And maybe my next post will be the one I started to write last night.

~Shea

Expressive Arts Carnival

Although new to blogging, we feel fortunate to have found other multiples and those who are supportive, here on the web. One of the sites we value is Mind Parts, and this month, Paul of Mind Parts is hosting the second Expressive Arts Carnival. The assignment: to create an abstract art piece through any visual means that depicts all or part of the internal world.

Here is our submission, and an explanation below:

We have a special room inside we call the library. It's quite possibly a cliché, but it's ours. A brightly-lit fireplace, always burning as if it's the spark to our soul, flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Knowledge is power. Above the fireplace, a view of much of the rest of inside: hallways leading to our individual rooms, where we can close the door to the world. Yet we are never really alone. Always there are those inside who watch and wait. And alone, in the spotlight, the child we were, the innocence we lost. Despite the warmth of the fire, the lure of retreat and sweet oblivion, there is pain. A bloody hand print, evoking a sudden gasp, a gut-clenching aversion that leaves its stamp on our reality. To survive, we had to rally together, the inner family.