A Few Words About Ego State Therapy and Healing

In November of 2012, I published the following post on my Word Press site (Healing Complex PTSD Symptoms), and I'm republishing it here.  It is relevant to my present situation in therapy because I have, for the most part, reduced my symptoms to the point where they don't interfere with my daily life as they once had done--I have gone from not wanting to leave my apartment for fear that my symptoms would be triggered to not being worried about triggers. Also, my discussion in this post may give you insight into how you can take control of your own PTSD symptoms and reduce them. 

Although presently my therapist and I are working with EMDR, I have spent over two years working with Ego State Therapy to get ready for the EMDR phase of my therapy.  When I began my work with this therapist in April of 2010, I told her that my goal was to get symptom relief through EMDR.  She told me that before she would work with EMDR, I needed to get ready and that part of getting ready involved working with my ego states to make them stronger and to bring about some inner harmony.  I was not happy with these words because I wanted to begin EMDR as soon as possible, get my symptoms reduced, and get the hell out of therapy!  After all, I'd been trying for 30 years to find relief, and I wanted to reach my goal before I got any older.  But I decided to trust my therapist, to trust that she knew what she was talking about.  Now, of course, I know that she did, indeed, speak the truth to me.  I am so happy that I hung in with her!  Together we are working with EMDR, and it is helping me immensely to defuse the trauma energy that has caused my symptoms--flashbacks, dissociative episodes, numbing, etc.. 

Finding relief from these symptoms has been my goal, and for all practical purposes, I am there most of the time.  Now I need to learn to adapt to this new state of mind.  But I'm sure I can do it.  If I've managed to reach the point where I am now, I can certainly find my way from here!  However, I still have a lot to learn, and I know that as long as I have my wits about me, the learning will never stop. 

Hope and peace to you . . .

As you are aware, Ego State Therapy as developed after the middle of the 1900s by such people as John and Helen Watkins, is a therapy in which the client identifies his or her ego states and then is helped by the therapist to bring these ego states into a state of harmony so they can work in the best interest of the client to improve the quality of his or her life.  (http://www.clinicalsocialwork.com/egostate.html) This process is much like family therapy, but rather than work with members of a family, the therapist works with the “family” within the client and also teaches the client how to do this internal work on his own.  This therapy is often a precursor to EMDR therapy, but even when used without EMDR, Ego State Therapy can bring about amazing relief from C-PTSD and its symptoms.

How do I know this?  I’ve been engaged in Ego State Therapy for over 2 1/2 years now, and I can testify to its effectiveness.  Wow, can I ever!!  

In one of my recent posts  (November 28, 2012), I mentioned the spaciness and feeling of being “unsettled” that can creep up on me at odd times but primarily before my therapy appointments.  Last week, I mentioned to my therapist that this feeling is very uncomfortable, especially when it makes me feel disoriented.  She replied that she would help me learn how to control the sensations.  I was amazed!  I had no idea that controlling the spaciness and other odd sensations was within my power.  She did not elaborate on her offer to help me, and we ran out of time, so when I left her office, I did not know any more about the “how to” than I did when I entered her office.

However, I left my therapist’s office with one extremely important piece of information:  I have the power to control those psychic sensations that had been making me so uncomfortable!!   I had assumed that those feelings were beyond my control.  I had assumed that, like my liver and my kidneys, my psyche did its own thing on its own without any guidance from my conscious mind.  Boy, am I ever happy to know that my assumptions were incorrect!  Ever since my therapist enlightened me and I realized that I was in charge, I have had no episodes of spaciness and no peculiar feelings that have left me disoriented.  I am confident, now, that when/if I sense the condition beginning to come back, I can keep it at bay by recognizing and acknowledging its approach and negotiating within myself to keep it from coming on full force.  I’m sure this will be tested in the next few weeks, but I’m equally sure now that I can effectively keep myself clear-minded and fully able to function.

In addition to the above, I am now fully aware of my inner family and feel capable of negotiating with the various members whenever I feel the need to do so.  This is another amazing step for me.  I realize that anyone reading this might wonder how I could have been in therapy for several years without being aware that I can control what goes on inside my mind.  All I can say in reply is this: If you are in the throes of trying to heal C-PTSD,  you may understand.  Trauma damage, the major underlying component of C-PTSD, renders one’s internal “family” dysfunctional. 

Communication among the various parts of the psyche and communication between the “family members” and the person whose psyche they inhabit is often nonexistent.  Thus, despite the fact that I have been working for about two years to bring about harmony within myself, it’s taken me this long to reach the point where I feel as if that “family” and I inhabit the same body.  But now I do!  What an amazing feeling!  I actually feel “together” for the first time I can remember.  So this is what it feels like to be “normal”?  I must be healing!  Is that possible?  Is the end in sight? 
 
I’ve lived long enough to be skeptical, so I’m not jumping up and down and rejoicing and assuming that I’ve “made it.”  No, I know better than that!  But I do know that I feel together, as in the expression “Get it together.”  I also know that I feel empowered, at least I feel that I can manage myself.  I don’t want to manage anyone else.  Beyond those statements I will not go at this point.  It’s too soon.  I’m not planning to stop therapy right now, either.  I need to stay with it until I’ve adapted to my new self. 

Whew!  It’s been a long old haul, but I think daylight is a lot closer than it ever has been.  My short message is this:  If I can do it, you can do it.  With the help of a competent therapist, you, too, can heal.  I’m looking forward now to a downhill journey rather than the uphill battle I have fought in the past.  
 
In the spirit of the Advent and Christmas season, I ask you, if you are healing from C-PTSD, to pass on the Hope to others.  Here is a quote from Winston Churchill that may inspire you:

 “We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.” — Winston Churchill

Seen With My Third Eye: A Glimpse Into the Therapeutic Relationship

Seen With My Third Eye--July, 2013

Therapy, in its traditional form, is all about the client--so the books say.  And that is true, to a point.  My therapist's job is to help me undo the damage done by people in my past, the damage that underlies my Complex PTSD.  And I have come a long way, thanks to her skillful help.  She is a clinical psychologist, and I am her client.  So--what does this mean, exactly?

I can't answer that question for anyone else, but I can partially, at least, answer it for myself.  During my first two-plus years seeing my therapist twice a week, I worked with my ego states to bring them to something resembling harmony: not an easy task for somebody my age!  Over my 74 years of life, I had developed a lot of ego states, and it took me a while to identify and define most of the parts within my psyche that make up my "self."  I'm not certain that I've identified all of those parts yet, but I identified enough of them to enable me to do what I have needed to do to alleviate my PTSD symptoms.  This was work I had to do on my own, for the most part. 

In fact, I did my ego state therapy work at home.  I wrote a dialogue or script of more than 1,000 pages in which my parts interacted and worked together "to promote the recovery and the happiness of Jean."  Where did my therapist come into the picture at this time?  She listened to me read installments of my dialogue, she encouraged me, and she witnessed my progress.  The few times I seemed to veer off course, she helped me find my direction.  During the time I worked on my dialogue, my therapist and I interacted in my sessions and worked on our own relationship.  Thus, by the time I had gone as far as I needed to go in this part of my therapy, I was able to transition into the phase of therapy where she and I worked with EMDR, and that is where we are now. 

Oh, I can always return to my dialogue when I need to do that, but now our focus is on EMDR and trying to shift trauma energy from my right brain to my left brain so I can understand it, talk about it, and then let it go. My therapist facilitates this shifting of energy by tapping first on one knee and then on the other, bilateral stimulation, as I actively recall the events connected to childhood traumas.  I am doing the remembering, and I am processing the traumas, and she is doing her part to help me do the processing.  We are working together, but our tasks are not the same.   The tasks are, in fact, very different from one another.  I am aware of my role, and she is aware of her role.  I am alone in my role, and she is alone in her role.  In a sense, we are working together, but each of us is working alone.

Yesterday, however, I learned something about myself, something I did not expect to learn.  I learned that, contrary to what I have believed to this point, sometimes I cannot do my work alone--sometimes I need to share the burden with another person.  Let me explain:  Recently I read a column in the local newspaper discussing the role of fathers in the lives of girls and how the father-daughter relationship can shape a girl's adult life.  As I read this column, memories of my own childhood and my own father flooded back until I felt overwhelmed by feelings of sadness, resentment, and anger--altogether a depressing experience, one I thought I had put to rest.  Obviously, the ghosts are still present and active.  If you have read my posts, you know something about my relationship with my father.  If you have not read my posts, then this post will give you information: Parental Alcoholism, Parental Mental Illness, and Shame: Three Threads In the Tightly-Woven Tapestry of Complex PTSD. 

When I saw my therapist yesterday, then, I was in a real downer.  She and I talked about my father and about my lifelong bouts of feeling invisible (depersonalization), and she helped me as I worked to understand the connection between my father's behavior and attitude towards me and my experiences with depersonalization and derealization.  (For information on derealization, please see my essay titled "Derealization OR Another Trip Down the Rabbit Hole?")  Finally, I could see that my 90-minute session was almost over, and I asked her if there was some way I could do something that would help me lift my mood.  She asked me what I would like to do, and I said that maybe some art work would help.  So she brought out the colored pencils and paper and set up the small table we used for art.  I sat on one side of the table, and she sat across from me. 

Before I began working, however, I suddenly and impulsively asked her if she would work with me.  I simply did not want to do the work by myself.  I wanted her company in this effort.  No--I needed her company in this effort.  She agreed, and we began.  She made a squiggle, and I added to her squiggle, and thus we continued--she and I taking turns.  I loved it!  By the end of my session, we--working together--had created a whimsical, happy little butterfly with a third eye, an eye of intuitive wisdom, so I call it.  You can see this blissful little butterfly at the top of this post, winging her way into the sunshine, guided by a bluebird singing a happy song.  Yesterday, in the process of working together with my therapist to create this blissful little butterfly, I was able to lift myself from the pits of my depressing thoughts and soar into the sunshine, into a much better frame of mind. 

I had come to my session in a miserable frame of mind, but I left feeling happy because my therapist cared enough to join me in creating that little butterfly with the blue and pink wings.  She, in fact, added the bluebird and the music notes.  Before I left, she rolled the picture up, tied a ribbon around it, and suggested that I tape it to my refrigerator door.  I have done that.  I looked at it this morning with my "third eye," the eye of my inner wisdom, and I saw my therapist's care for me.  That makes me happy! 

The really happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery when on a detour. Anon.

Interesting Article You Might Want to Read

Recently, a retired psychologist friend suggested I read articles by Dr. Stephen Porges on his polyvagal theory and the application of his research to healing PTSD.  You might find this information interesting.  Here is a link to one of his articles: http://stephenporges.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=25:nicabm-the-polyvagal-theory-for-treating-trauma&catid=5:popular-articles&Itemid=12  Note:  What will appear when you click on this link will be a box with a photo of Mr. Porges and some text describing the article.  If you look at the text carefully, you will see that the word "here" is in blue.  Click on "here" to get the whole article.  It's worth the trouble!

As I read his article, I thought to myself, "Oh, yeah, what he has to say about pitch and voice makes a lot of sense."  See what you think of his theory.  Jean

"Why do people do these things to me?" How I Changed This Question and Changed My Life

 Jean, Second Grade, 1946

 

The title question is one you may have asked yourself at times if you have been the target of abuse and violence.  I've asked myself the question many times throughout my life.  Have I ever gotten an answer that satisfies me?  No, I never have. The people who have targeted me may have their own answers, but I wouldn't know anything about that. Yesterday, though, I had an experience that changed my whole perception of myself, and I realized that I had been asking the wrong question all my life.  I also realized that I needed a new question and a new answer to that question. 

Here is what happened yesterday--I had my therapy session as usual, but I didn't arrive at my therapist's office "as usual."  No, I arrived feeling very nervous and feeling as if something was binding me around my shoulders, as if something was gripping my shoulders--and I was scared.  I told my therapist about this, and she decided that we needed to get to the source of this feeling.  I agreed. 

After a few minutes of EMDR work—EMDR is a very simple technique that enables a person to move emotional experiences from their right brain to their left brain so they can verbalize the feelings and understand them--I began to put the sensations in my shoulders and my fears and nervousness into words.  What my body was remembering, I realized, was the first time I was chased and captured by a group of boys while I was walking home from school.  I was in the second grade, and my route home took me past some areas where there were a lot of vacant lots overgrown with bushes and high grass.  I was a fast walker, and I could run faster than most other girls in my class, but the boys were faster.

The boys caught me and forced me into the bushes.  While several of them held my shoulders down on the ground, the others took some of my clothing off--by then the part of me that wasn’t physical had left my body, gone elsewhere: I had dissociated.  I knew what they were doing, but it didn't hurt because a part of me had mentally “checked out.”  Then the boys left. 

As I struggled to get back onto my feet, I worried about what my mother would say regarding the dirt on the back of my dress.  I was supposed to wear my school dresses three times before putting them into the wash because she had a very basic wringer washer and hated washing and ironing.  I also knew that I didn't dare tell her about the boys because somehow she would make the incident my fault, and she would use her wooden spoon on me.  I couldn't tell her when I was seven about what the boys did anymore than I could tell her at age five about the abuse I endured at the neighbor lady's house.  So I decided to tell my mother that I had been running through the vacant lot and had tripped.  That was why my dress was filthy and my hair was out of its braids.  I'd taken my braids out so I could use my fingers to brush out the dirt.  I can imagine that I looked pretty wild when I reached home, but my mother bought my explanation, got mad at me for getting so dirty, and let me go.
 
Years later, I found myself in the same position--on my back, being held down at my shoulders, and slipping out of my body.  Except by that time, I was in my early twenties.  The person pinning me down was my husband.  I wasn't in my body when he did what he did, so it didn't hurt.  I put up with twenty years of this because I didn't know what else to do.  I couldn't justify leaving him because nobody would believe that I was suffering--so I thought.  And in the 1960s and 1970s, when the legal system in our small town was still grounded in the mentality of "men rule," I well may have been wise in not doing anything about my plight.

Yesterday, at the end of my therapy session, I remembered that, in 1983, after I had ended my  marriage, I asked my former husband one day why he stepped up the violence in our bedroom.  His reply: "Because I wanted to know if there was anyone in your body."  He knew I wasn’t present in my body, yet the only way he imagined he could force me back into my body was by using violence!  Now, there is some twisted thinking.

After I left my therapist yesterday, I caught the first of the buses on my way home.  As I sat on the bus, I became aware that the man two places down from me on the bench seat was muttering, trying to get my attention.  I ignored him.  He reached over and touched my arm to get my attention.  I glared at him and said loudly, "Please don't touch me."  He recoiled, and then he stepped up his muttering, using the words "bitch" and "women libber" and a few more derogatory terms.  I said loudly, "I don't want to talk to you," and continued to ignore him.  He leaned closer and grew louder.  Then his stop came up, and he got out. 

After he had left, I took stock of my feelings and realized that I was ANGRY!  Appropriately ANGRY!  I'm still ANGRY!  Not just about the bus incident but about all the other incidents in which I have been bullied and victimized and abused.  I'll have to figure out what to do with the anger, but I'm glad now that I can feel it.  I guess I have the jerk on the bus to thank for that.  Now, there's an irony! 

So how do I answer the question in the title of this article now?  My answer is very simple:  People bully and hurt other people because they CAN!!  They act out their own "stuff" on other people because they figure they CAN and they can do so without consequences.  And they are often smart enough to pick victims who overtly, at least, show no ability to fight back.

Now, the next question is this:  How can I change "Because they can" to "Because they can't"?  If I change the answer, then I'll need to change the question.  So I propose that the new question be this: "Why don't people victimize me now?"  That would fit with the new answer: "Because they CAN'T!  I won’t let them." 

It’s taken me a long time—74 years, in fact—to transform my old question and answer to my new question and answer, but now that I have done this, I feel strong.  I feel as if I can truly take care of myself and protect myself from bullies and from people who want to stroke their own egos at my expense.  I’ve worked hard and long to change my question and answer, and I’m glad I didn’t give up.  Now, at least, I can live the rest of my life without wearing the word victim around my neck.