One step forward, two steps back

I’m rapid cycling right now. I am ok, I am safe.  Below is a mix of thoughts and info that is from several different personalities.  I will not be using my actual internal names but assigning code names.  Code names are as follows: Kitty-kitty, Big Bro, Big Sis, Lil Sis, Mr. Demon, Sparky, and Swirls.  I’m Kitty-kitty, face person extraordinaire.  Big bro was integrated until yesterday.  Big Sis AKA Protector/Warrior/Guardian persona but is apparently not permanently dead just temporarily fragmented? Lil Sis AKA Inner child.  Mr demon is all vices all the time.  Sparky is imagination incarnate.  Swirls is understanding, acceptance, and self awareness. 


Today, I am sad. I am sad because it’s getting crowded in here again.  Yesterday I got a letter in the mail about a parking citation from 02/20/2013.  This date is significant because it is the day before I was in possession of the car in question.  My abusive ex-girlfriend had moved out and taken my car with her, I could no longer afford payments on duplex and car and had opted for a voluntary repossession because I was stupid and didn’t realize that I could have taken out a 401k loan, paid off the car, and not ended up with an ugly mark on my credit for some number of years.

Fuck that was a shitty fucking year at first.  It got better.  I moved in with some amazing saviours of people who took care of me and made sure I was safe and loved before gently reintroducing me to people and the world in general.  They helped me realize that people aren’t inherently dangerous or scary.

There was that awful inbetween place I was at after I ran away from the house.  After she laid hands on me and threatened to push me down the stairs while pinning me to the wall telling me I was useless and fucking pathetic and and… she just kept talking and spit in my face and I kept crying and shaking and I was so scared… so scared and I never really knew what is was that I did wrong. She waited for me at the top of the stairs when I got home from going out.  I had gone out because she’d been ignoring my calls and texts and was tired of it all.  When I came home the light was on.  She stood glowering down at me from the top of the stairs.  I hung up my jacket, momentarily unfazed.  I looked up at her, rolled me eyes as I walked up the stairs, tired, done with her drama for the evening.  Then she grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me hard into the wall. She pinned me arms and yelled at me.  She ordered me to take a shower.  I remembered the sheer helplessness, the utter misery of being trapped and helpless in your own home.

My god I was so stupid.  I wish I hadn’t been so fucking tame at that point. I am so angry about the psych meds I was put on.  The ultimatum of psych meds or abandonment.  A horrible time in my life. A truly awful, dark time.

Let me know when the flashbacks will stop.  I just want some peace sometimes.  Stupid parking ticket… ruining my perfectly sane five conscious personalities into a refragmented seven.  Oh piffle.  Just can’t fucking win sometimes.  Big brother and Big sister (the recently dead protector personality) are back.  Big bro is a straight dude who likes food and video games.  Big sis is my super ego.  I’m tired right now.  It’s been a loud day, everyone is arguing about the fragmenting and while Sparky has been busy trying to figure things out and fix it I think I’m going to be fragmented longer than just a little while. But it’s hard to say.  Big bro is pissed that the Inner Child is a teenager now.  He also said he will end my fiance if he touches her.  It’s a little fucked up in the mindscape at the moment.

See how jumpy this post is everyone?  Allow me to explain:  When we’re very triggered and needing to process trauma sometimes we’ll rapid cycle.  Rapid cycling is when we transition to different personalities in rapid succession.  Obviously here we are dealing with the recent trigger of our abusive relationship from two years ago.  Since we still have unresolved feelings about that incident, something that has been extremely difficult because of the side effects of the drugs we were on at the time.  All the psych meds made those particular memories more difficult for the rest of us to access and help process.  Because of that Kitty-kitty has a difficult time dealing with the added stress of this particular trigger.  She still maintains an irrational fear of being killed by her ex due to the actualized threat of violence she endured.

Hey Ms. B, if  you’re reading this, we’re having a bad time.  Our therapist is out of town until next week.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s