Wednesday, January 05, 2005
The Next Step
I just threw a magazine across the room because it mentioned a Soap Opera character who ‘recovered from a bout of split-personality disorder’.
You recover from a bout of the flu. You don’t recover from being multiple. You work with it, around it, living every day of your life with it even if you somehow manage to reach therapy nirvana by totally integrating.
This stupid little article solidified my recent decision to work up a portfolio and seek speaking opportunities. I talked with my former counselor and she breathed a sigh as if she’d held her breath two years waiting to hear me say I was ready. When she began working with me she knew little about multiplicity. She sought conferences and seminars across the country to learn more in the context of her job as a sexual assault counselor. They were few and far between, although our mutual research suggested many more people who seek help are multiple than are ever identified as such.
We Qs hold a body of knowledge about multiplicity that could help sexual assault counselors, therapists, counselors, even police understand more about the people they serve. If they understood how dissociation works and the complexities that can arise the farther up the scale you go they could be much more effective in identifying and treating multiples.
Even amongst professionals there are many misconceptions about multiples. Some professionals don’t even believe we exist. They are convinced people who present as multiple personalities are grandstanding for attention. Others lump us in with Borderline Personality Disorder because most multiples display at least some of those characteristics, the most dangerous of them being self-abuse.
One of the most common misconceptions is that every multiple has an alter who is so filled with rage they slide easily into criminal activity. This is reinforced by the numbers of criminals blaming nefarious activities and antisocial behaviors on such an alter. The cops I've talked to are convinced a few are real but most are just looking for a way out of prision.
Maybe but for unconditional love the angry alter becoming criminal would have been a reality for us. ‘rion could have easily expressed his rage that way. But he did not. We believe Eyvonne’s steadfast love made the difference.
Many survivors of early childhood abuse and sexual assault act out in self-destructive ways. It is not the sole province of multiples. But working with someone who struggles with survivor issues who is also multiple is very different from working with someone whose self is unfragmented.
We believe a common understanding of multiplicity will help. Educating the public beyond ‘Sybil’ and “The Three Faces of Eve’ would be a start. We have a great deal of hope.
Thirty or forty years ago if a woman was raped most people assumed she’d done something to invite the attack. She’d flaunted herself about in a way that caused a man to lose control and deserved what she got. Although this kind of thinking still lurks subtly in the dark recesses of our societal mindset, for the most part blaming the victim is passé. Legally it is understood that anyone who subjects anyone else to unwanted sexual attention, talk or action is in the wrong.
Multiples are in a way where Gays were twenty years ago, poised on the brink of greater acceptance by society through understanding. The people we disclose to want to know more. The more they learn the better the chances are that they will be unfazed by our differences.
Multiples can live healthy, rewarding lives. They face more challenges than most people, the greatest of these is getting the help and support they need.
It isn’t easy being the partner of a multiple. Family members sometimes need to extend patience and love. But isn’t that what life is supposed to be about? Love? Not romantic hearts and flowers love, but the enduring kind that allows people to be who they really are. Unconditional love. No relationship will prosper without it not even one between singletons.
I’m not talking about the simpering born again submissive crap being sold in some circles as unconditional love. Unconditional love doesn’t mean constantly asking or bestowing forgiveness or crushing some part of yourself, your dreams, interests or desires in order to become acceptable.
Unconditional love means loving someone the way they are. You may not love some of their choices, decisions or how they squeeze the toothpaste, but you love them. Behaviors aren’t people. Sometimes knowing you are loved, with all your ugly parts showing turns ugly ducklings into swans.
I was 16 with an attitude, but the body was chronologically 46 when we met Eyvonne. I drove too fast, climbed cliffs without ropes, dove without checking the depth, stomped barefoot through snake country, argued with black bears over whose blueberry bush it was, and hauled snapping turtles big enough to snap my wrist off of highways. If anyone raised their voice toward me or mine I was ready to fight in a blink. It was my job.
When we met Eyvonne el was 43. He lurked inside ignoring most of my antics. He hated the dirt and disorder of the outside world. He was the geekiest of geeks unable to defend himself in any circumstances. Emotions were alien. He approached everything from a logical perspective.
Lillie was the same age as the body when we met Eyvonne. She had invested her whole life in being a good wife and mother. The problem with being a good wife was that without unconditional love she became someone’s slave. Love was based on performance and it was never good enough, whether the issue was earning money, housekeeping, parenting or sex she was found lacking by her husband. She faded until she was almost transparent.
Baby was three when we met Eyvonne. She was a distrustful toddler frightened of almost everything outside.
We were still unaware of the multitude of others who shared our body. Eyvonne welcomed each as they felt safe enough to make their presence known. She ‘preloves’ them as she puts it, in the way a mother loves her not yet conceived children.
Eyvonne makes no judgments. She simply accepts. If someone’s behaviors are not acceptable she makes sure they know it is their behavior she has an issue with, not them.
The effect of this steadfast acceptance drove me to grow up. It drew el into the outside world where his life experiences are tangible and enriched. He is self-sufficient and fulfilled.
Lillie is whole again, sure of herself in a new way she makes no excuses that her primary goal is nurturing her family.
Baby is 13 now. She still doesn’t trust most people, but she’s learned there are some worth knowing. She likes to read, play games, cook and paint. She even smiles.
The four of us have grown in ways we once thought impossible. Our inner family has increased in number and diversity. Alters we were totally unaware of came forward, drawn by the light of love and acceptance.
We are all ultimately in charge of our own lives. We may not be able to control certain circumstances but we can shape our responses to them. I know that now. I count myself very lucky that I had the chance to learn it.
Link, Taya and the others we sense on the edge of our inside world are coming home. We love and welcome them. Eyvonne and our children love and welcome them. They enter a new place where people show caring not just with pretty words but with action.
Sometimes I think I’m the luckiest person in the world. I may bitch about our financial circumstances but I’m also always working on getting beyond poverty. The stuff that really counts we Qs have in abundance. It’s time to share how we got from the bleakest place where we were 10 years ago to where we are now.
We haven’t recovered from our bout of multiplicity. We’re just getting comfortable with it.
© 2005 M. S. Eliot
You recover from a bout of the flu. You don’t recover from being multiple. You work with it, around it, living every day of your life with it even if you somehow manage to reach therapy nirvana by totally integrating.
This stupid little article solidified my recent decision to work up a portfolio and seek speaking opportunities. I talked with my former counselor and she breathed a sigh as if she’d held her breath two years waiting to hear me say I was ready. When she began working with me she knew little about multiplicity. She sought conferences and seminars across the country to learn more in the context of her job as a sexual assault counselor. They were few and far between, although our mutual research suggested many more people who seek help are multiple than are ever identified as such.
We Qs hold a body of knowledge about multiplicity that could help sexual assault counselors, therapists, counselors, even police understand more about the people they serve. If they understood how dissociation works and the complexities that can arise the farther up the scale you go they could be much more effective in identifying and treating multiples.
Even amongst professionals there are many misconceptions about multiples. Some professionals don’t even believe we exist. They are convinced people who present as multiple personalities are grandstanding for attention. Others lump us in with Borderline Personality Disorder because most multiples display at least some of those characteristics, the most dangerous of them being self-abuse.
One of the most common misconceptions is that every multiple has an alter who is so filled with rage they slide easily into criminal activity. This is reinforced by the numbers of criminals blaming nefarious activities and antisocial behaviors on such an alter. The cops I've talked to are convinced a few are real but most are just looking for a way out of prision.
Maybe but for unconditional love the angry alter becoming criminal would have been a reality for us. ‘rion could have easily expressed his rage that way. But he did not. We believe Eyvonne’s steadfast love made the difference.
Many survivors of early childhood abuse and sexual assault act out in self-destructive ways. It is not the sole province of multiples. But working with someone who struggles with survivor issues who is also multiple is very different from working with someone whose self is unfragmented.
We believe a common understanding of multiplicity will help. Educating the public beyond ‘Sybil’ and “The Three Faces of Eve’ would be a start. We have a great deal of hope.
Thirty or forty years ago if a woman was raped most people assumed she’d done something to invite the attack. She’d flaunted herself about in a way that caused a man to lose control and deserved what she got. Although this kind of thinking still lurks subtly in the dark recesses of our societal mindset, for the most part blaming the victim is passé. Legally it is understood that anyone who subjects anyone else to unwanted sexual attention, talk or action is in the wrong.
Multiples are in a way where Gays were twenty years ago, poised on the brink of greater acceptance by society through understanding. The people we disclose to want to know more. The more they learn the better the chances are that they will be unfazed by our differences.
Multiples can live healthy, rewarding lives. They face more challenges than most people, the greatest of these is getting the help and support they need.
It isn’t easy being the partner of a multiple. Family members sometimes need to extend patience and love. But isn’t that what life is supposed to be about? Love? Not romantic hearts and flowers love, but the enduring kind that allows people to be who they really are. Unconditional love. No relationship will prosper without it not even one between singletons.
I’m not talking about the simpering born again submissive crap being sold in some circles as unconditional love. Unconditional love doesn’t mean constantly asking or bestowing forgiveness or crushing some part of yourself, your dreams, interests or desires in order to become acceptable.
Unconditional love means loving someone the way they are. You may not love some of their choices, decisions or how they squeeze the toothpaste, but you love them. Behaviors aren’t people. Sometimes knowing you are loved, with all your ugly parts showing turns ugly ducklings into swans.
I was 16 with an attitude, but the body was chronologically 46 when we met Eyvonne. I drove too fast, climbed cliffs without ropes, dove without checking the depth, stomped barefoot through snake country, argued with black bears over whose blueberry bush it was, and hauled snapping turtles big enough to snap my wrist off of highways. If anyone raised their voice toward me or mine I was ready to fight in a blink. It was my job.
When we met Eyvonne el was 43. He lurked inside ignoring most of my antics. He hated the dirt and disorder of the outside world. He was the geekiest of geeks unable to defend himself in any circumstances. Emotions were alien. He approached everything from a logical perspective.
Lillie was the same age as the body when we met Eyvonne. She had invested her whole life in being a good wife and mother. The problem with being a good wife was that without unconditional love she became someone’s slave. Love was based on performance and it was never good enough, whether the issue was earning money, housekeeping, parenting or sex she was found lacking by her husband. She faded until she was almost transparent.
Baby was three when we met Eyvonne. She was a distrustful toddler frightened of almost everything outside.
We were still unaware of the multitude of others who shared our body. Eyvonne welcomed each as they felt safe enough to make their presence known. She ‘preloves’ them as she puts it, in the way a mother loves her not yet conceived children.
Eyvonne makes no judgments. She simply accepts. If someone’s behaviors are not acceptable she makes sure they know it is their behavior she has an issue with, not them.
The effect of this steadfast acceptance drove me to grow up. It drew el into the outside world where his life experiences are tangible and enriched. He is self-sufficient and fulfilled.
Lillie is whole again, sure of herself in a new way she makes no excuses that her primary goal is nurturing her family.
Baby is 13 now. She still doesn’t trust most people, but she’s learned there are some worth knowing. She likes to read, play games, cook and paint. She even smiles.
The four of us have grown in ways we once thought impossible. Our inner family has increased in number and diversity. Alters we were totally unaware of came forward, drawn by the light of love and acceptance.
We are all ultimately in charge of our own lives. We may not be able to control certain circumstances but we can shape our responses to them. I know that now. I count myself very lucky that I had the chance to learn it.
Link, Taya and the others we sense on the edge of our inside world are coming home. We love and welcome them. Eyvonne and our children love and welcome them. They enter a new place where people show caring not just with pretty words but with action.
Sometimes I think I’m the luckiest person in the world. I may bitch about our financial circumstances but I’m also always working on getting beyond poverty. The stuff that really counts we Qs have in abundance. It’s time to share how we got from the bleakest place where we were 10 years ago to where we are now.
We haven’t recovered from our bout of multiplicity. We’re just getting comfortable with it.
© 2005 M. S. Eliot
Christmas
Yesterday was Christmas. Mostly it seemed to be about laughter. Some of it related to the zany things we’re compelled to give each other like slot machine banks and window paint. Or the singing frog puppets Eyvonne’s mom gave Owl and Thunder. And a can of dog food with a home-made paper label identifying it as corned beef for Sarah who won’t eat the canned variety because it looks like dog food.
Factor in Zac’s performance using a 12-foot shipping tube as a musical instrument, Lee’s new watch that clips to a belt loop; a surefire way to attract girls… and Lillie wresting ops from Shel to leap over piles of wrapping paper and boxes, bolting from the room because we were having so much fun we ignored the time and our Christmas duck was an hour overdue for its date with the oven. Maybe we were just lulled into security by the smell of the ham already cooking. We had ham for dinner and duck l’orange for supper. Neither cost more than a dollar a pound. Our entire gourmet Christmas cost less than the turkey most Americans were gorging on for one meal.
Christmas actually started for us a few days early when Mer casually handed Eyvonne and I a card with a check in. It was enough to cover that TV we’d been coveting for two years. We were stunned. It was insanely cool of her.
“I worked a couple extra days,” she said shrugging.
Owl and Thunder gave Eyvonne and us Qs a DVD/VCR player. I felt like we were the kids and they were the grown ups. After all the gifts were opened and we were almost ready to eat Owl said, “Hey, I think I forgot a gift up in Thunder’s room.”
He turned to his brother. “Did you see it up there? It had a red bow on it.”
Thunder shook his head no. They raced up the stairs to find it and came down carrying a huge box. “Hey come in here!” they called.
Lillie started to cry. It was a TV bigger than the one we coveted. Eyvonne was teary too. Now we really felt like kids! The guys loved being Santa. It was a blast.
The day was filled with food and friends. We ate a ton of candy and ‘pecan crack’ an addictive mix of pecans rolled in sugar and cinnamon created by our friends from Philly as we watched movies on our new system. The picture on the ancient TV we’d been borrowing from Thunder was grainy and wobbly. It was strange to see everything in true, crisp colors. We could use Mer's check to get sattelite service and have real TV!
I thought about last Christmas. We’d moved back into this house three weeks earlier. We had no propane to cook Christmas dinner. We managed the entire thing in an electric frying pan, a toaster oven and a crock pot. We had only enough wood to last a couple of weeks. None of us had a real job. Our tree was a three-foot scraggly pine we’d culled from the back yard. Our gifts were simpler, but the laughter was the same. No matter what we always have laughter to pull us through.
This Christmas we have wood, propane, a real tree and food. We have a new family member to share it all with. We each have some sort of job and Owl will soon start an actual, real full-time job with benefits. We have friends willing to help us through our financial crisises - teeth, tuition and TV. hmmm what are the cosmic consequences contained in all those ‘T’s?
When I look back a year and see all we have accomplished with so little to work with I’m amazed. This new year should rock.
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
Factor in Zac’s performance using a 12-foot shipping tube as a musical instrument, Lee’s new watch that clips to a belt loop; a surefire way to attract girls… and Lillie wresting ops from Shel to leap over piles of wrapping paper and boxes, bolting from the room because we were having so much fun we ignored the time and our Christmas duck was an hour overdue for its date with the oven. Maybe we were just lulled into security by the smell of the ham already cooking. We had ham for dinner and duck l’orange for supper. Neither cost more than a dollar a pound. Our entire gourmet Christmas cost less than the turkey most Americans were gorging on for one meal.
Christmas actually started for us a few days early when Mer casually handed Eyvonne and I a card with a check in. It was enough to cover that TV we’d been coveting for two years. We were stunned. It was insanely cool of her.
“I worked a couple extra days,” she said shrugging.
Owl and Thunder gave Eyvonne and us Qs a DVD/VCR player. I felt like we were the kids and they were the grown ups. After all the gifts were opened and we were almost ready to eat Owl said, “Hey, I think I forgot a gift up in Thunder’s room.”
He turned to his brother. “Did you see it up there? It had a red bow on it.”
Thunder shook his head no. They raced up the stairs to find it and came down carrying a huge box. “Hey come in here!” they called.
Lillie started to cry. It was a TV bigger than the one we coveted. Eyvonne was teary too. Now we really felt like kids! The guys loved being Santa. It was a blast.
The day was filled with food and friends. We ate a ton of candy and ‘pecan crack’ an addictive mix of pecans rolled in sugar and cinnamon created by our friends from Philly as we watched movies on our new system. The picture on the ancient TV we’d been borrowing from Thunder was grainy and wobbly. It was strange to see everything in true, crisp colors. We could use Mer's check to get sattelite service and have real TV!
I thought about last Christmas. We’d moved back into this house three weeks earlier. We had no propane to cook Christmas dinner. We managed the entire thing in an electric frying pan, a toaster oven and a crock pot. We had only enough wood to last a couple of weeks. None of us had a real job. Our tree was a three-foot scraggly pine we’d culled from the back yard. Our gifts were simpler, but the laughter was the same. No matter what we always have laughter to pull us through.
This Christmas we have wood, propane, a real tree and food. We have a new family member to share it all with. We each have some sort of job and Owl will soon start an actual, real full-time job with benefits. We have friends willing to help us through our financial crisises - teeth, tuition and TV. hmmm what are the cosmic consequences contained in all those ‘T’s?
When I look back a year and see all we have accomplished with so little to work with I’m amazed. This new year should rock.
© 2004 M. S. Eliot
