Monday, September 3, 2012

A Series of My Thoughts In Writing

  I will be publishing for you a few of the things I've been writing for myself on my laptop.  The first is just a list of memories of mine that help me to see how I may have gotten into the state of mental health that I am in.  The second will be a conversation with God that I had which was inspired by my reading of the 'Conversations With God' series by Neale Donald Walsch.  The third will be a long meditation of mine that speaks of several of the things I mention in the first two.

Dissociative Identity Disorder
  This will be from beginning to end, the story of how I got to be how I am.  It's going to focus on what I believe to be DID, but will also address what I believe to be PTSD.  I've already been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, depression, anxiety, ADD and Dissociative Disorder.  I'd like to be regressed through hypnosis to reach back into my past in order to find out what happened to me as a child to bring me to my current mental state.  I've got scars on my body which I don't know how they got there.  There have been several clues in the past that have led me to believe I've got some deep emotional scarring.  In no particular order, I will list all of the events of my past that I can remember that give me a glimpse of what might be wrong with me.
  One time, when I was hanging out with my aunt Dawn, I put on a sweatshirt that had really tight sleeves.  I couldn't stand how tight it was around my wrists so I took it off.  My aunt said, "I didn't tie your hands together," implying that she wasn't the one who did something to me in my past that subconsciously affected a seemingly innocuous event in my present to become something traumatic for me.  It also implied that someone she knows of was the one who did that to me.
  Whenever I was going to have a haircut growing up, my mother would make me get naked and get into the bathtub to cut my hair.  This continued into my twenties.  When I reached puberty, she started to comment that I smelled like a man and asked me some questions that made me feel uncomfortable.  She asked me if I got boners and asked me to make my penis erect so that she could see it.  She also asked me if I ejaculated semen.
  Once, when I was with my mother, aunt Dawn and my grandmother, my grandmother put her hand on my crotch and commented that she wanted to touch my penis.  My aunt stopped her, but the emotional damage had already been done.
  An older female cousin of mine once dressed me up like a girl, putting makeup on me and everything.  She then took pictures of me which she showed to the whole family.  Instead of her getting into trouble, they all laughed at me.
  When I was in kindergarten, there was a girl who would kiss me, lay down beside me and show me her body.  She also made me show her mine.  Whenever there was anyone around, she would act as if she didn't know me.  Throughout my childhood, there were several other children who showed their private parts to me.
  Also in kindergarten, there was a neighborhood bully who gathered up some of the younger boys, like myself, and made us get into sexual positions with each other for his viewing pleasure.
  That same year, my little sister got fed up with my mother one day.  She said she wanted to run away from home and find new parents.  My mother told her that she could buy new parents at K Mart.  My sister started to make her way down the street and I couldn't take it anymore.  I ran over to her and begged her to stay, telling her how much I loved her.  My parents laughed at the both of us.  The thing that especially troubles me about this memory is that I don't remember it from my own point of view. I actually see myself running out to hug my sister.  I believe this was the first time my personality split due to stress.
  During that same time frame, I was left alone in a car with my younger sister.  Something she did made the car start rolling down the hill we were on and crash into our house.  Another time, around the age of seven, I was left alone in the car with my sister, I was told not to leave the car or let her leave.  She wanted to leave and I tried to stop her, but I didn't want to leave the car unattended so I had no choice but to let her go.  I got into huge trouble for that.
  When I was in high school, we had a female dog which I fondled sexually.  Looking back on it now, I wonder what from my past made that seem like acceptable behavior for me.  It makes me think I was simply re-enacting things that were done to me.
  When I was maybe three or four, my parents were giving my sister and me a bath.  I finished first and dried off.  They were microwaving some chicken soup in the kitchen.  The buzzer went off, but my parents were still busy with my sister so I grabbed a chair and went to the microwave oven.  The bowl was too hot for me so I dropped it, spilling the soup on my left thigh.  The bowl shattered on the tile floor.  I was petrified that I would be in huge trouble for breaking the bowl.  When an ambulance came for me, some police also came to ask my parents if they had deliberately done this to me.
  In the sixth grade, my dad sent a friend of his to pick me up from school one day.  I hadn't been told that this would happen so I ran away from him.  My parents laughed so hard at that one.
  When I was learning to write the English alphabet, my dad often berated me for my efforts.  He used the word "lousy" quite often in describing my writing.  I was born left handed, but was forced to be right handed.
  Once, when we were at a gas station, I noticed that the gas price had a nine/tenths at the end of it.  I didn't know how you could pay fractions of a penny so I asked if that was a part of the price and my dad said, "Naw, it's the (gas station cashier's) age."
  In the fourth grade, I had an incident involving daily multi-vitamins.  My parents accused me of hiding mine around the house instead of taking them.  I told them that I took mine every day and that it must have been my sister.  They told me they had already asked my sister and she denied it so it had to be me.  Simple deduction shows that if it's not one, it's the other.  That went on for hours as I declared my innocense.  I was crying so hard for so long that I started to hyper-ventilate.  I finally decided to give a false confession just to end the argument.  I couldn't keep up the deception though and told them that I felt bad that I had lied about my guilt.  The whole thing started up again until I falsely confessed again and kept it that time for the sake of argument.  Years later, my sister told me it had been her.
  One Christmas, my aunt had a big party with lots of guests.  I was taking piano lessons at the time and she wanted me to play something for the guests.  I was so nervous that after I finished, I went straight to the bathroom.  I had to take a crap, but it just wouldn't come out.  My stomach was churning with sharp pains.  I was cold, but sweaty at the same time.  I bagan to feel nauseated and grabbed the waste basket to throw up into.  My body went into convulsions and I nearly passed out.  It wasn't until I had been convulsing on the floor for almost an hour that I finally was able to get back up on the toilet and my bowels let loose.
  In high school, there was one morning that my parents were walking my sister and I to school.  Somehow the subject of breakfast came up and I couldn't remember what I had eaten.  My mother ridiculed me.  She asked me, "Are you brilliant?"  She told me that I like to act so smart, but that I couldn't even remember what I'd had for breakfast.
  As a child, I often got cold sores around my lips.  When I left my family behind to go to college, I stopped getting them until I went back to visit them.  I never noticed this pattern until years later when I found out that cold sores are a symptom of stress.
  As a small child, I remember being taken to speech therapy and some other places that I don't remember what they were.  I believe that I was slow to develop and that my parents knew it.  I think it would have been too embarassing for them to put me into remedial classes or get me any sort of tutoring.  Once I reached school age, I was simply tossed into the school system to fend for myself against people who actually knew what was going on.  My parents called me a late bloomer.  School was a constant struggle and I got terrible grades all the time.
  In the second grade, I was playing outside with some kids who were throwing around a flash light.  Next thing I knew, I woke up in my bedroom with a pain in the back of my head.  I still have the scar from that.  I was not brought to the hospital.
  There were several occasions during which I fainted and/or went into convulsions.  At no time was I brought to the hospital to even see if the doctor could recommend any change in diet or anything.  I believe that I was severely malnourished as a child.  I have always been skinny and my mother equated that with being weak, sickly and unable.  She always gave me more attention than she gave to my sister.  With my mother always telling me how skinny I was, but never saying that to my sister, my sister developed an eating disorder.  My mother always made me drink this Chinese medicine which smelled and tasted horrible.  She also made it a point to let me know how expensive the medicine was.
  My parents have never supported my marriage, my music or my writing.  It seems that everything I've loved as an adult has been ridiculed and shot down by them.  They want me to be a doctor or a lawyer or something with a title.  My mother is so embarassed with the fact that I went to the University of Arizona that she tells her friends that I went to Harvard.

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