Buried

**possible TW

My counselor says that there are two ropes I can choose to cling; one, my Dad’s rope of destructive lies and the other, God’s rope of truth.

“I’m still clinging to my Dad’s truth even though I know it’s lowering me down.  With that rope, I know my place, I know where I belong and I know to keep quiet.”

He inquires, “And where IS your place?”

Immediately I fill with shame and look down at the floor and away from him.  I try repeatedly to get two words out but I cannot.  The words feel like two large tennis balls in rolling around in my mouth.  He hands me a pad and pen to see if I can write it.  I write two words….the ground.

He asks “Where in the ground?”  “Like in a basement?”  “Is there a room under the ground?”

All I can do is shake my head no.

“Can you draw it?”

I draw what looks like a small grave with myself laying in it.  Staring at what I just drew, I get lost in the past and cannot move or talk for some time.

I am lying, paralyzed by fear in a freshly dug shallow grave.  The small puffy blue sleeves with white lace trim on the ends brush dirt on each side of me.  My legs stick straight out of my shorts and my shoes point upwards towards the clouds blowing by.  I see a pile of dirt to the left of the grave but I am unable to see if there is anyone else there.  Fear bears down on my chest and keeps me muzzled.

After bringing me back to the present he tries to help me process this memory but I am silent.  How do you talk about being buried?  I still don’t know how to write about it.  Except that this is one of the reasons that the 14 year old is so hell bent on killing herself.  This is where she belongs.

My “others”, suicide, and compassion

Sunday morning it took all my concentration to keep my butt in the chair.  The pastor had just asked for congregants to share what God had done in their lives in the last couple of months.  I wanted to stand and shout at the top of my lungs “I WANT TO DIE”.  After talking with my therapist today I realized that it was one of my “others,” the one that carries all the shame, pain, and sadness from the abuse that was wanting to shout of her pain.

It gets so confusing because I have evidently always been co-conscience so I never knew I had others until after I had been in counseling for two years.  I just thought it was myself that was playing like a four year old.  I thought everyone else in the world did the same things behind closed doors.  They just were able to hide it better than I could.

Over a month ago my 14 year old insider attempted suicide by swallowing pills.  When I awoke a full two days later I was furious!  How can she take MY life in her hands?  I was sick of having DID.  I was tired of not having control of my life.  I wanted OUT.

But, I don’t have that option.  Instead, I need to learn to show the 14 year old compassion and understanding. Usually I am easily dismissive of her and her pain but that drives the pain further inside where it eats at me until I explode in intense self-harm.

This week I am going to make room for her and her pain.  This is how I can take care of myself.