Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Gotcha
I can’t shake the sensation of being watched. When someone is standing just behind you there’s a definite feel to it. You know someone is there. It’s like that. I know someone is close by observing, looking over my shoulder. I can almost see them, but when I try to focus, like the Pleiades, they melt away.
Whether they intended it or not a rudimentary link has established between us. I can discern a vague discontent, restlessness and something else. Hunger. Aha! I’ve been starved all the time lately with no good reason. Gotcha! Or is it the other way around? We’ve gained a couple pounds but I’m so tired most of the day I don’t feel like walking.
Logic says I’m tired because someone else is awake at night. We’ve still no idea who swiped an entire day from us. All I can say is they must be good because Eyvonne never noticed. She’s usually on to a newbie before any of us inside.
The majority of new alters steal little blocks of time, pretending to be one of the Qs already known to Eyvonne. She catches them when they relax. They’re usually damned by some little quirk like being extremely ticklish.
Most of us barely react to a tickle threat. But just point a finger at one recent newbie and he flinches away. He doesn’t know his name so we dubbed him Flinch. When he’s con-conscious with anyone else they become ticklish too.
Sometimes alters know why they exist. Like Ian being a guardian to the sleeping babies. Others have no idea what their purpose was originally. Like Flinch, some show up without even a name. I know my first purpose was to guard and protect Baby, Lillie and later el. I knew it was important that I was male. I also knew it wasn’t wise to express that outside. el was ‘conceived’ to preserve our intellect. I can’t remember my first moment of consciousness. But el remembers his.
“One afternoon while our mother took her usual nap, Baby locked the bathroom door, a forbidden thing. She sat on the floor shears in hand, but I hacked away,” el said. “I cut her golden curls but saw my own straight, dark locks hit the floor.”
While we were in therapy Dr. Dwon warned us over and over that it was likely there were more than four of us. He was concerned that some of our alters might be filled with terrible rage.
I was terrified of even considering that others lurked beyond the known inside. I could barely breathe when I thought about it. How was I going to protect el, Baby and Lillie from some idiot on a rampage? My anxiety about emerging alters rivaled the anxiety level when secrets spilled out in flashbacks. I was so jumpy it was pathetic. I was totally unprepared the first time it happened.
Baby wandered into el’s library trailed by a tiny, naked waif. Thin and dirty, ragged dark hair long and unkempt, he stood before us sucking his thumb, eyes closed tight in fear. el gently embraced him. I wept. I’d been ready for almost anything but this.
“His name is Stonebaby,” baby said. “He’s been hiding wif me.”
This new l’ilone was patient, even stoic. He could stay motionless for hours turned totally inward. We surmised he was born of Baby’s need to escape the pain of sexual and physical abuse. Lillie managed to clean him up but he never learned to like clothes. The most we could get him to project wearing inside was a pair of jeans. Thankfully when he got the courage to be up outside he didn’t strip down, but he did take our glasses off and pitch them. He didn’t need them to see.
Stonebaby was drawn to Eyvonne who we chatted with daily online. As our friendship deepened she was friend to me and Lillie, mother to Baby and Stonebaby, and clearly el’s heart’s companion. We counted on her help as we faced the challenge of nurturing Stonebaby. He was comforted by motion. I loved rocking him nearly as much as I’d once enjoyed holding our outside children. They were too grown up now for such baby stuff but we missed it.
One summer evening Stonebaby relaxed against my shoulder as we swayed back and forth on the porch swing. Lillie’s husband sat nearby smoking a cigar. The smell reminded us of our Grandfather Burgess. Baby missed Grandpa intensely. When he lived at our house for a year his presence kept her safe. His dark skin, high cheekbones and familiar smile were safety, warmth and love.
Every afternoon she waited for him at the train station near our home. Her toes even with the yellow danger line on the platform she strained to see the approaching train. As soon as he stepped down she ran to him.
Baby threw herself into Grandpa’s arms. He swung her aloft into weightlessness pressing her smooth cheek to his stubbly, scritchy one. He was tired from a long day at the office and the train ride home but his eyes always lit up for her. He smoked a cigar as they walked home down the tree lined street his big hand enfolding hers.
That summer night Baby realized Grandpa was never coming back. She hadn’t understood his death or the passage of years. She fled upstairs to mourn. But as Baby ran up the stairs she was seeing the ones in the house where we grew up. Baby paused at the top looking back to where our mother stood below. Mom was crying and yelling. Her face twisted in anger.
“Don’t you dare cry!” Mom screamed. “He wasn’t your father. You don’t even know what death is!”
Baby froze at the top of the stairs, hot tears drying on her cheeks.
“You stop it right now or I’ll give you something to cry about,” Mom threatened.
Denied the right to mourn Baby simply refused to remember Grandpa was dead. Now Baby laid on our bed sobbing. Stonebaby cried too without really knowing why. Lillie scooped them up and rocked them repeating over and over, “That was then, this is now. We’re here and we love you.”
But it felt like ‘now’ to all of us. Time isn’t always linear for most us, it’s more like a series of vaguely connected ‘nows.’ To get a real handle on a series of events we check with el. He has the best grasp of events. In a pinch we poll everybody. That’s how I discovered the missing day.
After Stonebaby came into the system from whatever dreadful place he’d been hiding in I started to worry that there were others like him out there, frightened and alone when there was no longer any need to hide. I wavered between that and being terrified the next one in would be our own personal Jeffery Dahmer.
‘rion and Ian scared me the most. They tested my strength and my wits. They were also to date the worst first presentations of any Qs. Congratulations guys! At least we survived them. Looking back my bent for risk taking throughout our lifetime was a bigger threat to our survival than anything they did. So who am I kidding? I should worry about who’s watching us now? Hey, I’m cool. Really.
Did you hear something?
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
Whether they intended it or not a rudimentary link has established between us. I can discern a vague discontent, restlessness and something else. Hunger. Aha! I’ve been starved all the time lately with no good reason. Gotcha! Or is it the other way around? We’ve gained a couple pounds but I’m so tired most of the day I don’t feel like walking.
Logic says I’m tired because someone else is awake at night. We’ve still no idea who swiped an entire day from us. All I can say is they must be good because Eyvonne never noticed. She’s usually on to a newbie before any of us inside.
The majority of new alters steal little blocks of time, pretending to be one of the Qs already known to Eyvonne. She catches them when they relax. They’re usually damned by some little quirk like being extremely ticklish.
Most of us barely react to a tickle threat. But just point a finger at one recent newbie and he flinches away. He doesn’t know his name so we dubbed him Flinch. When he’s con-conscious with anyone else they become ticklish too.
Sometimes alters know why they exist. Like Ian being a guardian to the sleeping babies. Others have no idea what their purpose was originally. Like Flinch, some show up without even a name. I know my first purpose was to guard and protect Baby, Lillie and later el. I knew it was important that I was male. I also knew it wasn’t wise to express that outside. el was ‘conceived’ to preserve our intellect. I can’t remember my first moment of consciousness. But el remembers his.
“One afternoon while our mother took her usual nap, Baby locked the bathroom door, a forbidden thing. She sat on the floor shears in hand, but I hacked away,” el said. “I cut her golden curls but saw my own straight, dark locks hit the floor.”
While we were in therapy Dr. Dwon warned us over and over that it was likely there were more than four of us. He was concerned that some of our alters might be filled with terrible rage.
I was terrified of even considering that others lurked beyond the known inside. I could barely breathe when I thought about it. How was I going to protect el, Baby and Lillie from some idiot on a rampage? My anxiety about emerging alters rivaled the anxiety level when secrets spilled out in flashbacks. I was so jumpy it was pathetic. I was totally unprepared the first time it happened.
Baby wandered into el’s library trailed by a tiny, naked waif. Thin and dirty, ragged dark hair long and unkempt, he stood before us sucking his thumb, eyes closed tight in fear. el gently embraced him. I wept. I’d been ready for almost anything but this.
“His name is Stonebaby,” baby said. “He’s been hiding wif me.”
This new l’ilone was patient, even stoic. He could stay motionless for hours turned totally inward. We surmised he was born of Baby’s need to escape the pain of sexual and physical abuse. Lillie managed to clean him up but he never learned to like clothes. The most we could get him to project wearing inside was a pair of jeans. Thankfully when he got the courage to be up outside he didn’t strip down, but he did take our glasses off and pitch them. He didn’t need them to see.
Stonebaby was drawn to Eyvonne who we chatted with daily online. As our friendship deepened she was friend to me and Lillie, mother to Baby and Stonebaby, and clearly el’s heart’s companion. We counted on her help as we faced the challenge of nurturing Stonebaby. He was comforted by motion. I loved rocking him nearly as much as I’d once enjoyed holding our outside children. They were too grown up now for such baby stuff but we missed it.
One summer evening Stonebaby relaxed against my shoulder as we swayed back and forth on the porch swing. Lillie’s husband sat nearby smoking a cigar. The smell reminded us of our Grandfather Burgess. Baby missed Grandpa intensely. When he lived at our house for a year his presence kept her safe. His dark skin, high cheekbones and familiar smile were safety, warmth and love.
Every afternoon she waited for him at the train station near our home. Her toes even with the yellow danger line on the platform she strained to see the approaching train. As soon as he stepped down she ran to him.
Baby threw herself into Grandpa’s arms. He swung her aloft into weightlessness pressing her smooth cheek to his stubbly, scritchy one. He was tired from a long day at the office and the train ride home but his eyes always lit up for her. He smoked a cigar as they walked home down the tree lined street his big hand enfolding hers.
That summer night Baby realized Grandpa was never coming back. She hadn’t understood his death or the passage of years. She fled upstairs to mourn. But as Baby ran up the stairs she was seeing the ones in the house where we grew up. Baby paused at the top looking back to where our mother stood below. Mom was crying and yelling. Her face twisted in anger.
“Don’t you dare cry!” Mom screamed. “He wasn’t your father. You don’t even know what death is!”
Baby froze at the top of the stairs, hot tears drying on her cheeks.
“You stop it right now or I’ll give you something to cry about,” Mom threatened.
Denied the right to mourn Baby simply refused to remember Grandpa was dead. Now Baby laid on our bed sobbing. Stonebaby cried too without really knowing why. Lillie scooped them up and rocked them repeating over and over, “That was then, this is now. We’re here and we love you.”
But it felt like ‘now’ to all of us. Time isn’t always linear for most us, it’s more like a series of vaguely connected ‘nows.’ To get a real handle on a series of events we check with el. He has the best grasp of events. In a pinch we poll everybody. That’s how I discovered the missing day.
After Stonebaby came into the system from whatever dreadful place he’d been hiding in I started to worry that there were others like him out there, frightened and alone when there was no longer any need to hide. I wavered between that and being terrified the next one in would be our own personal Jeffery Dahmer.
‘rion and Ian scared me the most. They tested my strength and my wits. They were also to date the worst first presentations of any Qs. Congratulations guys! At least we survived them. Looking back my bent for risk taking throughout our lifetime was a bigger threat to our survival than anything they did. So who am I kidding? I should worry about who’s watching us now? Hey, I’m cool. Really.
Did you hear something?
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
