apology ;P

Dear W.

Sorry I called you big nose. Very, very sorry. I should not have said that. I will not say it again.

Sincerely,

J.

P.S. Very sorry, bubble-butt.

;P

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apology

dear W.

i'm very sorry for my behavior the past couple of days. i have been very mean and i forgot the most important rule which is it's ok to be mad but it's NOT ok to be mean.

one thing i did that was bad was, i decided what you were thinking and i got mad about that even when you said it was NOT what you were thinking and i just said you were LYING when really you weren't. that wasn't fair of me because i didn't even give you a chance.

another bad thing i did was to say lots of nasty things to you and swear at you. even though it is ok to feel mad it isn't ok to say mean things to hurt someone else. i am sorry about that because i had a hard time remembering that you are not a robot. you are a real person with feelings and just because i feel bad doesn't make it ok to say things to make YOU feel bad.

ANOTHER bad thing i did was ignore the rule about bedtime. that rule is there because even if i don't feel like it, my body has to sleep. also, it is there because YOU need your sleep and it's hard for you when you are worried about me.

i am sorry for doing things to make you worry about me like going out without telling you where, or not answering your text messages when you are at work or i am out on a walk. and especially i'm sorry for going out after you went to sleep because that will make it hard for you to feel like i am safe so you can get your sleep.

one problem with how i acted was because i imagined talking to you about setting limits for me because that is something i need you to help me with. but the problem was, i got mad at you for not helping even though you didn't know about my imaginary conversation with you. it wasn't fair for me to expect you to read my mind.

and even if we HAD had that conversation, it's not fair for me to keep on being more and more bad to make you do something.

i am especially sorry for ripping up the sign you made for our door. it is not ok for me to do something like that no matter how angry i feel.

one important thing i have to learn is you can't help me if i don't let you. and being mean or walking away or refusing to talk are things i did, and it means it was not your fault that i felt lonely. it was my fault.

i am also sorry and ashamed that i worked so much to get the other parts to believe you don't really like us. you are right. i told them hateful things, and that was very wrong.

also, i destroyed Mandy's toys because you gave them to her. that was wrong. i did it to hurt two people. i wanted to make you feel like we didn't like you or the things you give. and i bet Mandy you would not stand up for her and say it wasn't ok for someone to break her toys. that was because i was jealous that you take care of her and not me, and i wanted to make her feel like you wouldn't really and truly take care of her. but that was not fair of me because it wasn't a fair test. you already knew Mandy wanted to break those toys, so it wasn't something important of hers, so you didn't know about the test.

i am very sorry about my behavior and i hope we can work together to come up with ideas for how i can make things better, and also for ideas about how i can do things differently the next time i'm feeling bad.

sincerely,
jamie

ps. one other hting i should not have done is posted those posts on my blog. even though it is my blog where i can write aobut anything i want i wrote those posts to be mean to you and to show how angry i was and how bad i was. it was not ok to be hateful like that. also, i am ashamed that i showed our friends and even strangers how mean and hateful i was being. it is ok if i write things like that in my private journal but not ok to post them online. why it is ok in my journal is even if i am wrong it's still ok to say somewhere how i feel. but not to do it in a way that is to hurt someone's feelings.

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whatever

she may think that if she ignores me long enough, i'll just disappear, but she's wrong. i'm going to stay around until she kicks ALL of us out, and then at least i won't have to deal with someone who says they care but they're lying.

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trapped

i hate this. i hate being here and i cant get the other parts to just let me leave. there is absolutely nothing i can figure out how to make myself do to feel better and the other parts wont let me do anything. i just want to walk away, or drive, or just leave, but they wont let me. i want to scream and have fights and break things. there is nothing i can figure out how to do.

and im mad at people because they like the other parts just fine and pay attention to them and take care of them and even though a certain person says she cares about me its just a lie because she only bothers with me because its a package deal and she cant get the other parts who she actually cares about without having me too. if she could get rid of me im sure she would. if i could just go away i would and everyone would be happier. but i cant figure out how to disappear so im just fucking stuck here and feeling like screaming but i cant even do that because the other parts wont let me do anything that would make anyone else have any problems.

fuck them. so im writing here and i dont care if they dont like it i should get at least one place where i can say things.

i hate it HATE IT HATE IT HATE IT HATE IT here. its not like anything is going to change either because no one really cares about it and im just supposed to figure out how to be one of the good ones who does what im supposed to on my own. and since i cant do that then im stuck feeling like crap.

and i hate that the other parts get to do things to feel better and have people care about them but because all i do is be a jerk all the time no one likes me and i know its reasonable for people not to like me but no one helps me to figure out how not to be a jerk they just wait until i go away and then theyre all nice to the other parts.

its not like i do anything that bad. im just crabby and snappy and not nice. even if i want to smack people on the street or break windows or do things like that, i dont and i probably wouldnt even if the other parts didnt stop me. but certain people like the little kids even when they feel bad, but they dont care about ME and i hate that.

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Book group, and musings about adult parts

Book group was last night. The book was "Geek Love" by Katherine Dunn. My thought upon finishing reading it was, "I can't believe I read the whole thing." The "geek" in the title refers to carnival geeks, who bite the heads off of chickens. It goes downhill from there. I (Cleo) and other parts who slogged through reading it didn't enjoy the book at all. It's creepy and depressing, without much to say for it as something to spend one's time doing.

But I read it, because I know that the smart one likes to go to book group, and wouldn't be as happy there if I/we/she hadn't read the book. That's how the division of labor goes with intellectual or academic things: whoever is around gets through the reading, one way or another, and the smart one shows up to talk about things at the last minute. I never really know how it happens, but even with a book where I would swear that I had just run my eyes over the pages, not taking in a word, I turn out to have intelligent things to say, and can discuss it as though I spent a lot of time thinking about it. Plus, the smart one is pretty extroverted, in the limited sense that she really enjoys talking to people about academic things. So it's a bit of fun for her.

She realized, right at the start of group, that "Geek Love" was also a reference to "Greek Love," and if you view the book as a Greek tragedy, it's actually very interesting (that is, if you're interested in Greek tragedy, which I am not). The smart one really enjoyed the discussion, and had a lot of good things to say.

The other thing about book group, and this is a little scary, is that I've been invited (and agreed, heaven help me!) to lead book group in May. I have to choose the book and everything. On the one hand, I'm not worried about it, since I like to talk, and the people who come are very ready to discuss things, and they're engaged, and it's something I know I (as in, the smart one) is very good at doing. On the other hand, I'm really worried about choosing a book. What if people don't like it? What if I choose something really stupid for a book group? Do I choose a book that's a "usual" book group choice, or do I risk getting people irritated by choosing some genre fiction that I know I like and have wanted to discuss like this?

I mean, it's silly for me to worry. No joke, the smart one once taught a class where we had a deep intellectual discussion about Henry Huggins, a children's book by Beverly Cleary. Tied it into the cold war and everything. If I can do that, then any book with any intentional allusions will be fine!


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I've been thinking about how my adult parts work lately. It seems a little odd to me that I'd need to have as many as I do. On the one hand, I can see where it makes sense, at least with some parts.

The mama was created so I could be good at taking care of my younger siblings and home-making type things, and like it, and not feel utterly overwhelmed. So she does pretty much all of that stuff, and it's actually soothing and calming for her, rather than the aggravation or overwhelmed-ness that other parts feel.

The analyst showed up, I think, when I was about 14, so that I could cope with the knowledge that I really needed therapy "when I grow up" and look at everything directly, but very unemotionally. So, for instance, she's the one who can calmly and un-upsetly give the basics when I'm first talking to a therapist. And she can explain things, and give me a sense that, so long as I understand why someone is doing something, I can cope with it (like my family persistently using the n-word in "joking" reference to me).

But then, why is the analyst separate from the smart one? I guess in part, because the smart one needed to have absolutely no awareness of what it was like at home. When I am in the middle of a class, I can behave as though the only thing in the world for me is the intellectual topics at hand, and they are utterly separate from the emotionally fraught things that might be connected with them. And, unlike me, the smart one is confident that admitting she doesn't understand something is a sign of intelligence. It works for her, but she only deals with academics anyhow. Plus, she's incredibly intelligent.

Or why am I, Cleo (formerly "Queen of Denial"), separate from the smart one? Maybe because the smart one really, truly, completely needed to be no more than vaguely aware of how things were at home? Or because I am kind of in the middle, and behaved at school as though nothing was wrong at home, but also behaved at home as though.... my job was to hide things from everyone to keep us safe. To not write in a journal, or talk to people, or anything. To act like everything was under control and I knew what I was doing, and I needed no more help than what I specifically asked for (and I only asked for things I knew I could get). So I guess that's why I'm separate from the smart one.

I don't exactly know why the hip chyck is separate from any of the other adult parts. I know how she's different, but not why. She's more active and activist. I guess the main difference between her and the analyst is that she's focused way more outward than inward. She's more confident. She has more fun. And she's way more social, which is a very useful thing to have access to. Plus a few other things she does better than the other adult parts.

Not sure where I was going with this, but it's part of what I've been thinking about.

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Thinking

I was thinking about something and it made me kinda mad. This is what I was thinking. The rules now are very different from how they were when I was little for real.

Like right now, for real, I am actually a grown up. I am big and I sometimes know how to do lots of things when there is a grown up there to help inside. But if I don't do lots of jobs thats ok, cause if it makes me feel bad or yucky then its ok if I don't do jobs.

But when I was for real a kid, I used to get in trouble if I didn't do lots of jobs every single day and I had to do them just right or else I would get in trouble and I had to do the whole job no matter how I felt. Even if I was feeling sick or if I got hurt I was still supposed to do the jobs right or maybe I would get hit or someone would say something mean to me like I was lazy or stupid or something like that.

Like washing dishes sometimes I would get in trouble if they weren't perfectly clean or if I didn't wash every single big pot and even if I was only eight I would get in trouble if they didn't get clean and I would have to get out of bed and wash them again or something like that.

Sometimes now when I wash dishes I kind of remember about that and I feel scared like someone will hit me or yell at me if I don't do it just right and then I am afraid that maybe something will break and I will get in trouble so I don't like to do dishes sometimes cause then I think about people getting mad and the people are very much bigger than me like way up to the ceiling and they will hurt me if I do it wrong.

But now no one gets mad even if I do ZERO dishes all day long and don't put any away either. Even if I am big its ok.

And people say thats fair and ok and how its sposed to be cause people arent sposed to yell at you even if you dont do your jobs even if you are big. And maybe they are right but that means that what used to happen was very super wrong and I am mad cause people were very mean to me about stuff like jobs and they were bigger and I dont understand why people who are super big are allowed to be mean like that.

Like another rule was I could not hit someone who was littler than me when I was still little but if someone was big they could hit people cause they were the grown ups, and if someone was little they could hit me cause they didn't know better but I was in the middle and I wasnt ever allowed to hit someone cause I wasn't big and I was sposed to know better. But why do you get to hit someone just cause you are lots bigger than them? That seems like a mean thing cause a big grown up is WAY bigger than a little kid.

And I feel super mad about that cause it was NOT FAIR. Not one bit.

This is Teller mostly and a little Mandy cause Mandy wanted to say some of this but she just felt mad and wanted to yell.

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Accepting

One of the things that's hard to cope with is this. I can't just go ahead and decide that I'm going to do something, because it's something I'm supposed to be doing, and then force myself to do it.

It used to be, pretty much no matter what, I could force myself to get things done. This eroded somewhat when I got fibro, but it was still there. I could just... force myself. The necessary parts would arrive, and take over, and then I would have things done.

Okay, so maybe it caused some problems. I do suspect that this tendency was a contributing factor in getting the fatigue with fibro. I still remember my senior year of college, having the sensation that I was sucking the last dregs of energy out of my bones, just to make it through all of the things I was doing.

But there's the other side, that reliability, the assurance that, no matter how impossible something seemed, somehow, I would manage to make it happen. Not literally impossible things, obviously. Just... things. Things like getting up and going to classes two days after an unsuccessful attempt to off myself. Things like carrying five classes and three jobs that semester, coming out of it with a decent, if not excellent, gpa. Things like walking for miles on a broken foot (more than once, with different broken feet).

One of the hardest things to accept lately is that I can't seem to make this happen. Perhaps it's that I no longer have the absolute necessity. Somewhere in my brain, I seem to have figured out that, little as I may like it, I will not disintegrate or be destroyed if I don't accomplish the things I would prefer.

But the guilt and shame pound against me almost constantly. I hear the voices berating me for being a worthless, lazy, good-for-nothing failure. And no matter how much I try to remember that they're not right, it's still hard.

I'm working on it. I'm working on being ok with doing less than I would prefer. I'm working on being ok with taking things slowly, allowing them to happen rather than to seem to happen. And I'm trying to accept that healing is more than knowing what the right answers are and forcing myself to say them regardless of how I feel. But it's hard.

--Cleo

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Faking it

I guess one of the things is, for lots of the parts, our entire job has been to fake normal. And with me, a lot of that is, acting like there's nothing wrong, or at least, not letting people get close enough to see.

I've been around more, since the little kids "locked up" most of the adult parts. But I kind of operate stealth-fashion. And I guess part of the problem is, I don't know for sure who I am. I mean, obviously, the default answer is, we're all the same person. But it's not exactly like that. And I'm not one of the ones who got acknowledged or named.

Mostly, that's ok with me. I feel very uncomfortable admitting that I'm a separate part. I don't like people to notice when I come in and out, because that's not what's supposed to happen. But in therapy we're talking about stuff, and, I don't know, I have been feeling a little awkward about the fact that when my therapist thinks she's just seeing one person, the adult, the "host" or whatever, she's actually had a conversation with two or three parts, not all of whom have a clear idea of what we've been talking about.

It's easier with the little kids. They're more sure it's okay to be out, or at least they've been learning. And it's easier to tell a little kid from an adult, you know? Particularly since even though I guess I'm more of a teenager, it's really hard for me to understand or explain how it is that I'm not really grown up.

I kind of use the things the Analyst did, and figure things out. I know where most of my memories come from--high school, mostly, although some in middle school, kind of, I don't know, fading in.

There are things I feel uncomfortable that I did, but I still can't think of better ways. I mean, maybe things would have gone easier if I hadn't been working so hard to hide everything. But I still can't see how that would have worked. And it's hard for me still to realize that maybe even if people did know about what happened, they wouldn't think there was something wrong with me because of it.

Some of it is because my family is poor. Trashy. I feel guilty about that, like I should be doing something differently, I don't know. Like if people find out about that, then they'll think I'm like that too. Hard to talk to people about that, but there are parts that have, and I guess it's ok. Except it's not.

It feels like something to be ashamed of, like the other bad stuff was because of the trashiness. And even though I know it wasn't something I could change, there's still a feeling of being ashamed of it. And wanting to hide. I don't like people to know about all of that. I don't like to think about the reasons that I'm all split up and divided inside, like that makes me dirty and disgusting.

I'm kind of working on that. It's hard, and part of what's hard is, I feel like I should already know this. I guess I even knew it a little back then, not that it did any good. I wasn't especially good at passing, except that people don't really look, you know? I guess partly because other people had a lot more going on in their own lives, and partly that I didn't fit the picture of someone with "problems at home." Didn't cut. Didn't skip school. Looked like I was different by choice, and not just because I couldn't manage to be like the other kids.

Mostly, I spent my time alone. Read a lot. Had superficial friendships, although maybe they just felt superficial to me. I didn't let myself out, or get close to people. Really, mostly, none of my parts have. It's kind of lonely, but better that than being found out.

Not sure what the point of this post is, but I may as well post it anyhow. Kind of working on that, letting people in some more. Of course, I'm also terrified of what will happen if someone in my family reads this, but I guess with what's already there, I've got nothing to lose.

I'd sign this, but I have to admit I'm not exactly sure who I am.

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Today

Sometimes, it's hard to accept a bad day, when I've had a few good days in a row. Today is not a great day. I can't say why, but I'm jittery and anxious, and not able to do anything, really.

Partly, it's that my body is incredibly achy and painful, because of the fibro. And I guess some of the emotional stuff is because I (or at least some of my parts) were doing some more intense work in therapy this week.

It's hard to be sure, and even harder because my issues are invisible on the physical level. It's not like I can have an x-ray or some kind of objective examination, and someone can say, "Oh, this is exactly what's wrong, and here's how long it's going to be wrong."

And it's very difficult for me to accept that perhaps the best path is to give in to this, and go rest in bed. It feels lazy and self-indulgent, but when I try to do something, I panic and stand staring, even with the most simple things (washing dishes, sweeping the floor, deciding if I'm going to go to the store). So it's not like I'm getting more done by staying out of bed.

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