Alice Revisited: "How can I recover from derealization?"

I am posting this article because last week a reader made his or her way to my Google blog by asking, "How can I recover from derealization?"  By typing "derealization" into a search engine, you can find many good professionally-written articles discussing this symptom, and this clinical information can help you understand the phenomenon.  However, my purpose in writing the following article is to help you see the symptom through my eyes, the eyes of a person recovering from C-PTSD.  In addition to giving you a description of the phenomenon through the eyes of a client rather than a practitioner, I may be able to help you allay some fears you may have regarding derealization.    At the end of this post you will find a link to a previous article I wrote on this topic. Embedded in the article is a link to a clear explanation of derealization.  I believe that as you work to recover and heal your C-PTSD, you may find that incidences of derealization will become less frequent as your other symptoms fade–I say this based solely on my own experience.  None of the clinical articles I have read has speculated on a connection between reduction of general PTSD symptoms and reduction in frequency of derealization incidents. 
   

`Curiouser and curiouser!' cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); `now I'm opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!' (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off). `Oh, my poor little feet, I wonder who will put on your shoes and stockings for you now, dears? I'm sure I shan't be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you: you must manage the best way you can; --but I must be kind to them,' thought Alice, `or perhaps they won't walk the way I want to go! Let me see: I'll give them a new pair of boots every Christmas.'  (From Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, Project Gutenberg.)

 If you have ever struggled through an episode of derealization, you understand the surprise, consternation, and panic poor Alice experienced after she ate the little cake labeled "Eat Me."  When I was a child, I understood Alice's feelings all too well, for I sometimes struggled just as Alice struggled in my attempt to make sense of my distorted perceptions.  Usually these episodes took place when I was on my way to and from school or when I was sitting in my classroom.  Trees, normally perpendicular to the earth, swayed menacingly and at odd angles; my feet, though safely tucked beneath my desk at school, appeared to be so far away that I couldn't reach them; the teacher's familiar face became the face of a stranger.  Scary?  Certainly!  But what could I do?  Nothing.  When I was a child, I felt powerless to do anything about anything.  

The episodes came and went, and I said nothing to anyone about them.  As time passed, they were simply part of my life--like eating, brushing my teeth, and doing schoolwork.  By the time I was in high school, though, I seldom experienced the problem, and the derealization episodes faded into the past.  When I entered college as an undergraduate, however, I was once again plagued by the symptoms, but as before, my fear rendered me unable to reach out for help.  I thought, in fact, that there was no help for my condition, and I did not want to risk being labeled as "crazy" and locked away in an institution.  Again, I felt there was nothing I could do but endure the symptoms and try to forget them.

After I graduated from college, I found a job, married, and had a baby.  The symptoms did not return until late in my marriage, near the time in 1981 when I caught my husband abusing our daughter and reported him to the police.  After that, I had episodes of derealization from time to time, but because they did not occur frequently, I simply got through them and tried not to think about them.  As I look back, a pattern emerges:  My episodes of derealization have occurred most frequently at periods in my life when my anxiety and stress have been most intense and when I have felt physically or emotionally threatened. This insight is supported by the information in the professionally-written articles I have read, such as this one--  http://www.ptsd.va.gov/professional/pages/Dissociative_Subtype_of_PTSD.asp 

Recently, since I've been in therapy with my present therapist, I was surprised by my old nemesis once more.   Here is my account of the episode as I described it in a previous post (see link at the bottom of this page):

One day a year or so ago I left my apartment to go to my therapy appointment.  So far, very ordinary.  I caught my bus and rode to the transfer point.  The closer I got to the transfer point, the odder I felt, but I simply forced my mind to focus on what I knew was the here and now of reality.  When I reached the place where I had to leave the first bus and catch another bus, forcing my mind to focus was becoming a struggle, but I was determined to keep the ground beneath my feet and get  to my therapist's office without incident.

As I waited for the next bus, the world outside me began appearing more and more distorted, and when the bus finally arrived, I had to fight internally to get onto it.  You see, the bus should have appeared to me as a rectangular shape having 90-degree angles, but instead of a rectangle, the bus was a parallelogram, a four-sided figure with parallel lines but not having 90-degree angles.  I can't tell you what anything else looked like because I seemed to have tunnel vision at the time.  I managed to figure out where the steps would be and got into the bus and sat down heavily, hoping nobody noticed that I was having a problem knowing where to put my feet.  Nobody did notice, thank goodness.

As the bus traveled the few blocks to my next stop, I regained my perception, and the feeling of unreality faded.  I was so glad to arrive at my therapist's office and to wait in her peaceful waiting room!  By the time I saw her, my mind was fairly clear, and I told her about the experience.  She appeared interested but not surprised.  

The incident described above is the last incident of derealization I have experienced.  For two years, now, derealization has not loomed large in my life; no, now it is just a symptom among other C-PTSD symptoms.  My guess is that the Ego State Therapy work and the EMDR work I have done to alleviate my PTSD symptoms in general have probably reduced my chances of experiencing derealization.  However, if I should have more of these episodes, I know that I do not need to suffer by myself.  In addition, now that I have information about derealization, I am not afraid of the symptom.  I know I'm not crazy, and I know that my various PTSD symptoms are part of the big picture, just another pesky reminder that C-PTSD is a condition that may always "be there" for me to some extent but a condition that I am learning to manage and control as I heal.  If there is a "next time" and I find myself experiencing an episode of derealization, I plan to keep my cool and do my best to focus and remain rooted in my surroundings--just as I managed to do when I climbed onto the bus.  Mindfulness--that's what it's called. 

“If you hear a voice within you say “you cannot paint,” then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.” ~ Vincent Van Gogh, Dutch Painter 
( https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g? blogID=1991681586811138369#editor/target=post;postID=264648316031779499;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=40;src=postname)  

After EMDR: An Insight That Makes Me Furious! (Continued)

 

(Courtesy Google Images)

Part II:  I Connect the Dots

As I said In Part I of this account, I’ve dealt with my abuse.  I’ve remembered the experiences, and I’ve desensitized myself to a great extent, thanks to EMDR.  When I remember, the memories don’t carry the emotional load they once did.  The memories no longer have the power to overwhelm me, but that doesn’t mean they are not still present.  Now that I have desensitized myself somewhat to the memories, I find myself able to connect some dots that I had not previously connected.  For one thing, I believe now that I understand more fully the long-term effect of my childhood abuse experiences. 

After I reported my husband for sexually abusing our daughter in 1981, I did a lot of reading on the topic of child sexual abuse.  I read, for example, that many victims of father-daughter incest—or of sexual abuse, in general-- become promiscuous.  I did not become promiscuous, perhaps because I was so young when I was abused.  To the contrary:  I know now that my sexual self remained four years old while the rest of me moved on in life.  

As a result of being abused at such a young age, I failed to understand why my peers in junior high went crazy over boys, and I failed to understand why my peers in high school were more interested in dating than in doing their schoolwork.  I didn’t date and didn’t want to date.  I had no interest in having a boyfriend and in what my peers called “necking.”  The whole “teen scene” seemed silly to me, in fact.  While the other girls were “cruising the gut,”** going to the drive-in movies, and “necking,” I was babysitting and earning money. (** When kids “cruised the gut,” they crowded into cars on Friday or Saturday night, drove slowly down Main Street, and did whatever they needed to do to call attention to themselves.  At least, that’s what the teens in my hometown did!) 

Despite my lack of interest in boys and my failure to understand why my girlfriends were so boycrazy, however, I went through puberty sensing that even though I was physically normal, whole, I was missing a part of my self.  I have, in fact, gone through most of my life feeling like a jigsaw puzzle that is almost complete but still lacks a couple of pieces.  The problem has been, though, that until recently, I have not been sure which pieces I have lacked.  Now, at age 74, I know:  I lack the pieces which, when gathered together, might be called “mature female sexuality.” 

How am I now suddenly able to answer a question that I had not been able to answer earlier in my life?  How is it that I now know which pieces of my puzzle have been missing all these years?  All I can say is that the answer came in the form of a sudden insight, one of those “connect the dot” answers that a person just “gets.”  And I believe my mind was free to connect the dots, finally, because the EMDR treatments have released much of the trauma energy that has interfered with my thought processes. 

So now I know; now at my age of 74, I finally understand why I have gone through life sensing that I have been incomplete, that I am not a complete woman.  Well, let me revise that concept:  I am a complete woman, but the part of me that would make me aware of that fact is still stuck in the year 1943.  That part has never caught up with the rest of me.  It’s there, completely there, but that part of me is like a butterfly stuck in the chrysalis stage—it has never matured into the beautiful creature that it was meant to be.  That’s what child sexual abuse does if the victim has not received effective help after the event/s—child sexual abuse prevents normal development--it stunts the child-victim’s inner growth.  So now I know, and now I can identify the missing pieces of my puzzle. 

Now the big question:  How do I FEEL about this revelation?  How do I FEEL about having spent all my life wondering why I have felt incomplete, not like other women?  How do I FEEL about the result of connecting my dots??

It’s going to take me some time to figure out how I feel, but off the top of my head, I will say this:  For about six years, I was a practicing Roman Catholic.  When the matter of priest sexual abuse and bishop collusion cracked open over ten years ago, I began distancing myself from Catholicism.  At first, I hoped Pope Benedict would take a firm stand and make corrections—defrock the offending priests and bishops and clean house.  As time passed and I realized that was not going to happen, I grew progressively more disillusioned until finally I decided there was no point in waiting for the Pope to take action because he was not going to do so.  Now we have Pope Francis—what will he do? 

Thousands of victims are no doubt awaiting an answer to that question.  Some of those victims may have spent their lives as I did, looking for the missing puzzle pieces, wondering why they felt like incomplete human beings but not really sure why they felt that way.  Some may have gone in another direction and wondered why they never felt sexually satisfied.  And others may have gone in other directions.  To answer the question, then, as to how I feel, I feel sad—very, very sad.  And I’m FURIOUS!  Absolutely FURIOUS!  In my heart, I can only believe that Jesus Christ shares my feelings—my sadness AND my fury! 

It will take me some time to process this matter further.  For instance, how do I feel about having my sexuality stuck where it was in 1943?  How do I feel about having lived my life feeling incomplete, a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing?  How do I feel about having missed out on dating and the other normal activities of teenagers?  And what I am also wondering is this:  Will my butterfly ever emerge from its chrysalis and soar, free and beautiful?  I don’t know the answers to these questions yet.  Given time, I will.  Even at my age, I will. 

For inspiration, here is a quote by Bono—

When the story of these times gets written, we want it to say that we did all we could, and it was more than anyone could have imagined. 

After EMDR: An Insight That Makes Me Furious!

Jean, Age Four

Part I:  Background and Flashbacks

Have you ever sat down to write and found yourself immobilized, fingers not wanting to tap the keyboard?  This doesn't happen to me very often, but today I find myself wanting desperately to express my thoughts and feelings but having a helluva time doing so!  Why?  It’s the nature of the material, the long term effects of child sex abuse.  It’s a topic that I thought I had made peace with, but obviously I have not, completely.  However, I am going to forge ahead with this post because I believe the information may be useful to others.   A word of caution:  If you have been sexually abused as a child, be cautious.  If you find yourself being triggered by what I have to say, stop!  Please do not continue reading.

During the period when I was three, four, and five years old, I endured violent sexual abuse by a neighbor woman and less physically violent but just as emotionally violent abuse by my parents.  I’ve described this abuse in several of my posts—“Shadow Girl,” “The Day I Stopped Dancing,” and “My Own Comments on The Day I Stopped Dancing.”  Please use the search feature on either blog to locate these titles if you are interested.  I don’t need to repeat the material here. 

First of all, I have recognized and dealt with the memory of being violently sexually abused by the neighbor woman.  The memory of the event that happened back in about 1943 vaulted into my awareness in the form of a flashback some thirty-nine years later, in about 1980 near the end of my stressful marriage.  Initially, the material in my flashback shocked me, for until then I had buried the memory deep, deep, deep.  Little by little, over the next few years I remembered more of the event. 

Then, in about 1994, I had what a therapist called a body memory, but what I believe was really another, more complete, flashback, so complete that it terrified me!  I remembered the neighbor’s kitchen, the appearances of the woman and her adult son who abused me, and the specific details of the abuse.  I felt the hands holding me down and felt the steam of the hot water as it splashed over my body.  It couldn't have been more complete! 

For those who question the authenticity of my memories and who think that my memories may have been suggested by a therapist, let me reassure you:  I was not in a therapist’s office when I had the flashbacks, and I had not discussed my abuse with a therapist prior to my first flashback in 1980.  When I saw my first therapist, I wasn't even aware that I had been abused! In addition, after my first flashback, I not only returned to my hometown to verify the locations of my house and the neighbor’s house but I also questioned my mother as to the physical appearance of the neighbor woman and her son—this without telling my mother why I wanted the information.  The information I received from my inquiries substantiated the information I received during my flashbacks.

In addition to re-living the violent abuse, I have re-experienced the feelings associated with the photo sessions my parents forced me to endure when I was four and five years old.  The difference between these sessions and “normal” photo sessions that kids tolerate in the course of childhood is the fact that I was forced to pose stark naked in front of my parents’ friends and was yelled at when I tried to cover myself.  So during the time I was being terrorized, humiliated, and embarrassed during the nude photography sessions, I was also being groomed by the neighbor woman in preparation for her final, violent abuse event.  Now, that’s a big psychological burden for a little girl to bear!  I bore it without telling anyone at the time, but decades later I found myself no longer capable of keeping the secrets. 

Recently, I have undergone EMDR to release some of the distressing energy surrounding the events.  Now I can remember without having to feel the horrors.  The abuse happened, and now I am able to understand it and some of its effects more clearly.  I can look back and understand, too, why I had bad dreams as a child and why I became claustrophobic in elementary school and frequently threw up when the teacher closed the classroom door (See http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/conversion-disorder/DS00877)  I also can understand my lack of trust for people and my fear of closeness.  My parents forced me to pose nude for their friends, and the next door neighbor woman fed me cookies, fondled me, and then violently sexually abused me.  Why would I trust or want to be close to anyone?

A little girl might escape severe emotional damage by these events if she were helped to process them right after they happened.  This might be the case today.  However, back in the early 1940s, help for traumatized little girls was not readily available.  In my case, too, why would I have trusted my parents enough to have reported the neighbor woman’s behavior?  After all, my parents were also my abusers.  So I was a child caught in a trap of silence, a child who grew up possessing huge and horrible secrets that festered for decades before breaking into my awareness.  And all the time that these secrets festered and spilled their toxins into my subconscious mind, I was living my daily life unaware of them. 

Next—Part II: I Connect the Dots

Ego State Therapy: Cowboy Builds Herself a "More Stately Mansion"

Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,

As the swift seasons roll! Leave thy low-vaulted past!

Let each new temple, nobler than the last,

Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,

Till thou at length art free,

Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea! 

By Oliver Wendell Holmes

Preface

Like the little sea creature in Holmes’ famous poem “The Chambered Nautilus,” Cowboy has decided to build herself a “more stately mansion,” in this case, a small apartment in a horse stable. Well, “mansions” are relative–to Cowboy, an apartment in a horse stall, complete with odors, dirt, and mess, is a mansion, a place where she will feel comfortable, accepted, and cherished for herself.  Her neighbors will love her, and she will love them in return.  After all, isn’t building a comfortable, welcoming mansion for our souls a goal of therapy?  In my opinion, it is.  So carry on, Cowboy!

Cowboy Decides to Build Herself a Mansion

After more than three years of working with my present therapist, I have reached the happy place where I can toggle back and forth between Ego State Therapy and EMDR as needed.  For the past several weeks, I have been again working with my ego states, to be specific, with the ego state I call Cowboy.  This post, then, is a continuation of sorts of the previous post titled “Whadda Ya Do With An Outdated Ego State With An Attitude?” 

You may recall that Cowboy has shown evidence that she suspects her protective qualities are no longer as badly needed as they were formerly.  In fact, she is showing signs of isolating herself from the other parts in Jean’s psyche, as if she may suspect that change is blowin’ in the wind, but she doesn’t want to participate.  She doesn’t want to change!  Well, if Cowboy refuses to change and other parts agree to change, what a mess that will be!  You see, Cowboy has been a major player since I was a little girl (see “Whadda Ya . . .” for more on this), and if Cowboy doesn’t adapt to changes in her environment—in this case, by “environment” I mean changes in my perceptions of myself and my life as I progress in my therapy—if she doesn’t become more of a team player, then Cowboy and her “attitude” can possibly impede my progress. 

Of course, I could simply throw Cowboy out the window, just banish her, do her in, in other words.  On the surface, that might be the easiest tack to take.  But, no, I can’t do that!  Cowboy is part of me, one of my ego states.  No ego state can be destroyed; transformation is the only course to take.  She has served a purpose within my psyche for a long, long time, and she has helped me through a lot of my life’s brambles and briar patches.  Without Cowboy, I’m not sure I could have survived my childhood.  After all, Cowboy was there to remind me that I was tough, that I didn’t need my mother, and that I could take care of myself—despite the fact that somewhere in my heart I knew that I truly did need my mother. 

However, since my mother did not know how to be a mother and didn’t even want to be a mother to me–she made that clear–I was much better off to follow Cowboy’s lead and soldier on through my childhood without a mother.  Nope, there is no way I am going to do away with Cowboy!  She deserves my love and respect, and she deserves the effort and time I must spend in helping her transform herself and her role.  Besides, there will be times in my future when I’m sure I will need to call upon her to help me out.  So Cowboy may not be as protective and assertive in her role as in the past, but however she is, she will always be welcome in my psyche.

So how do I go about helping Cowboy transform herself?  First, I need to understand Cowboy, and this means remembering back into my childhood and remembering what went on in my mind at the times when Cowboy stepped in to help me.  As I mentioned in my previous post about Cowboy, my mother was not my advocate—she did not give me emotional support when I needed it.  At Cowboy’s urging, though, I made up my mind that I was better off not needing my mother.   “I can do it myself; I don’t need a mother.”

Cowboy materialized in my psyche, then, to serve a purpose:  she protected me from an existential despair, the despair that arises when a child realizes she has no emotional mother.  The times when Cowboy arose in my psyche were times when I was most in need of comfort and emotional support.  She helped me through those times.  But what about Cowboy?  Was she ever in need of support or comfort? 
I asked myself that question yesterday as I worked on my ego state dialogue.  As I reflected on that question, I realized that Cowboy, being part of me, may have needed a mother, herself.  Did she?  As I dialogued with Cowboy, my respect for her grew.  Why, she longed for warmth and comfort just as I did!  She had so many heavy responsibilities, which she fulfilled faithfully, and where did she go when her chores were done?  She retired to her sterile, tidy cubicle in the office part of the arena.  Did she have much in common with the other parts who lived in that area of the arena?  No!  Cowboy was, I recognized, very unhappy.  How could I help her?

What would make me happy if I were Cowboy?  I asked myself that.  My answer:  Acceptance, human warmth, kindness, the feeling of being valued for my own self.  Cowboy found all that, ironically, in the little rustic cabin she built for Aurora in the stables.  As a result of spending time enjoying Aurora’s hospitality and heart-felt kindness, Cowboy realized that she would be much happier living in an apartment in the stables near Aurora and her beloved horses than in her sterile cubicle.  Having made this decision and having obtained Aurora’s permission to add an apartment on to Aurora’s cabin, she set about preparing a blueprint so construction could begin. 
So that’s the story of Cowboy thus far. 

 But it’s just a story, isn’t it?  If telling this story is my Ego State Therapy process, how do I know this process is helping me, Jean, to change? After all, the goal of any form of therapy is change, good change, positive change that improves the client’s quality of life.  My reply is this:  As I write about Cowboy’s transformation, I feel the change.  Whatever takes place within Cowboy, resonates within me. In this case, I feel something somewhere inside me relax and release stress.  As Cowboy enjoys tea and crumpets at Aurora’s cozy kitchen table in the company of Jeanie, Aurora, and Gemini, the wise old land tortoise who is the keeper of Imagination and Intuition, I feel pleasure in the company of my fictional companions.

 I say “fictional,” but the characters in my Ego State Therapy dialogue are fiction only in the sense that they are metaphors for the parts inhabiting my psyche.  Hey, it works!  In the process of writing my dialogue, I’ve alleviated my PTSD symptoms without taking any medication.  My mind is the best healer I could possibly have!

For a clear, basic explanation of how Ego State Therapy works, please click this link:  “http://www.esti.at/index.php/about-ego-state-therapy

Filling In Developmental Gaps: Inspiration from My Scottish Ancestors

From the beginning, my therapist has made it clear to me that one of her tasks is to help me fill in some developmental gaps.  So when I looked at my stat page the other day and saw the search query "My therapist read a children's book to me. . .," I suspected that whoever typed that term into Google and found his or her way to my blog has a therapist who is trying to help a client recover from inadequate and/or traumatic parenting.  My therapist has read children's books to me, books I have brought to her.  In my case, the few times she has done this, memories of my mother reading to me were interwoven with memories of my mother stiffening and threatening to send me to my room when I wriggled and didn't pay attention.  The fact that my therapist tried to help me by reading, however, was healing in itself because she showed me that she cared.  Also, by not reading to me when I told her that my memories made me sad, she showed respect for my wishes--and respect for my wishes was something my parents did not have!  

First off, what are developmental gaps?  As I understand the term from reading and talking to my therapist, the term refers to the glitches or blank spaces in a child's development when that child does not get the parenting he or she needs.  When a human infant is born, that little person's brain is wired to expect certain things.  The neural receptors are set to expect and respond to maternal touches and cuddling, the warmth of the caregiver's body at feeding times, smiles and loving looks on the caregiver's face, and so forth--all the interactions that take place between loving, devoted parents and their babies.  When the parents do not respond to their baby in a normal, natural way, and when they do not interact in ways that meet the baby's needs, then those neural receptors wither and lie dormant, causing the baby to have a gap in his or her development.  Fortunately, as science has discovered, those receptors can be re-awakened later in life--sometimes much, much later, in fact, as in my case at age 74.

As I have worked with my therapist these past three-plus years, I have identified a few ways in which my therapist is trying to fill in some developmental gaps.  For one thing, my therapist serves as a mirror to my emotions or mood.  If I am upset about something when I arrive to see her, she immediately becomes an intent listener, and she maintains that role.  When my mood shifts, she goes along with my mood and does not ignore my feelings or minimize them.  When I was a child, this did not happen!  More often than not, my mother told me to go to my room if she did not like the mood I was in.  Many times, when I cried, she or my father told me to go get a milk bottle and fill it with my tears, and then my parents taunted me for the way I looked when I cried.  In other words, my parents did not accept me as I was; they accepted me only when I was the way they wanted me to be.  Luckily, I had enough ego strength to maintain my determination to live!  

Another indication that my therapist is attempting to help me fill in developmental gaps is her emotional support.  I know, for example, that she is on my side.  I am not alone in my journey.  Did my parents show me the same support?  I spent the early years of my childhood trying to answer this question.  Finally, when I was about eight, I gave up trying to see my parents as being supportive and decided that I had no allies in life, especially not my parents!  I was on one side, and everyone else in the world was on the other side--against me.  After all, if my own parents were not supportive, why would anyone else be supportive?  (For one example of parental lack of support, please read the essay "Shadow Girl" on the following link: http://www.jfairgrieve.com/Part_II.html)  Despite the huge burden of feeling as if I was the only person in the world on my side, I was determined to live.  For some people, the feeling of such extreme isolation has been fatal.

 In contrast to my parents, my therapist accepts me as I am, whatever my mood, and is allied with me as I do my work.  I feel secure in believing that whatever she does, she does with my best interests in mind.  Her emotional support is, indeed, filling in a huge developmental gap!

What difference has all this gap-filling made?  Interesting question!  The answer is that I feel a subtle but definite improvement in my basic sense of emotional well-being.  In addition, I also feel an increased sense of self worth. When I began seeing my present therapist three-plus years ago, I was an emotional wreck--wracked by PTSD symptoms and not wanting to live.  After all, why would anyone want to go through daily life experiencing the horrible flashbacks, dissociative episodes, numbing, derealization, depersonalization associated with trauma damage?  Life like that had worn me down, and after a really nasty experience with an inept therapist, I was ready to give up.  But, being the stubborn and persevering person I am,  I gave therapy one more try, and now that I have learned how to manage my symptoms and alleviate them, I am beginning to know what life must be like for the fortunate people who have never been victims of child abuse and neglect and who have never been involved in an abusive marital relationship.  Now I believe that life truly is worth living--not just for other people but for me, too.

Also, thanks to my improved sense of well-being and increased sense of self-worth, I have more self-confidence and increased motivation to shape my life into the most satisfying life possible.  Furthermore, I believe I am living proof that the brain is capable of retaining the plasticity needed for change even into the later years of life, much longer than had been believed when I was a young person.  There is now substantial hope for anyone at any age who wants to relieve trauma damage and improve the quality of his or her life.  With commitment and diligent effort on the parts of therapist and client, a person can undo much of the psychic damage caused by the damaging behavior of other people and reclaim his or her life!  

As people have told me, the best revenge is to have a good life.  By helping me fill in some important developmental gaps, my therapist is supporting me in my efforts to get my "revenge"--to have a good life.  When I look back on this struggle, my battle to reclaim the parts of my life taken from me by others, I remember that I come from a long line of tough people, Scottish coal miners who survived the hell of coal-mining during the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries, a time when going down into the mines was much the same as descending into the pits of hell. If they could summon the strength to do their work, the least I can do to honor my Scottish ancestors and myself--now that I feel I am worth honoring!--is to do my work!  

For that is the mark of the Scots of all classes: that he stands in an attitude towards the past unthinkable to Englishmen, and remembers and cherishes the memory of his forebears, good or bad; and there burns alive in him a sense of identity with the dead even to the twentieth generation.  Robert Louis Stevenson

Whaddaya Do With an Outdated Ego State Who Has an "Attitude"?

Cowboy:  Time for a change?

I have found Ego State Therapy to be extremely useful in my healing process because this modality enables me to conceptualize the inner workings of my psyche.  If I think of my psyche as a place in which all the parts of my personality (ego states) dwell, and if I see these parts of my personality as "people" who interact with one another, then I am able to interact with these parts to bring about peace and, eventually, change.  One of the big players in my psyche's cast of characters is the part that I call Cowboy.
 
Although Cowboy is a girl, she displays some qualities normally attributed to males--toughness, assertiveness that sometimes borders on aggressiveness, and pride in her ability to protect my psyche from "varmints" and nasty critters that might want to hurt me.  Yes, Cowboy has existed for a long time, at least I have been aware of her for a long time.  When I was a little girl and witnessed another child having her skinned knee kissed by her mother, Cowboy was the part inside me who said, "Well, I don't need any of that baby stuff.  My mother doesn't kiss my skinned knees, and that's because I'm tough.  I don't need my mother to do that."  Actually, I longed to have my mother kiss my skinned knees, but my mother didn't seem to notice them.  I learned not to cry because when I cried, my mother got irritated with me and yelled at me.  Sometimes she even ridiculed me when I cried.  So when my Cowboy said to me, "You are tough.  You don't need your mother to comfort you," my Cowboy was protecting me from the pain that came with my mother's neglect and indifference toward me. 

When I was sexually molested by the neighbor at age four or five, Cowboy let me know that I could take care of myself and that it would be better if I did not tell my mother.  She would probably spank me and yell at me and tell me it was all my fault.  I did not need her; I could take care of myself.  And, for forty-two years I did--until I had a huge flashback to the abuse incident and fell apart.  Later, when I was about nine, a friend of the family who had not seen me since I was about four years old said, "Is that Jeanie?  But she used to be so cute!" My mother said nothing to her or to me to soften the effect of her words on me, but my inner Cowboy whispered to me, "Your mother isn't on your side, and she doesn't care about you, but you are tough and you don't need her, anyway.  You can take care of yourself."  And I did.  I stayed away from my mother. 

In 1961, when I announced to my mother that I was getting married, my mother said, "Well, all my friends think you have to get married, anyway."  My inner Cowboy let me know, once more, that I didn't need my mother or her approval, "Don't let her words get to you.  You are tough.  Just go ahead with it."  In 1981, after enduring years of an abusive marriage without taking any action to change the situation, my Cowboy took the bit in her mouth when she witnessed my husband molesting our daughter and decided that it was time for action--she led me to confront my husband and tell him I was reporting him to the police, and then she and I did just that.  Then Cowboy took the bull by the horns and helped me file for divorce. 

Yep, Cowboy has been a major player in my psyche.  She has protected me from feeling the pain of being abused and neglected, and she has enabled me to survive situations that otherwise might have rendered me permanently nonfunctioning.  She has been a true friend when I desperately needed a friend.  She has picked up the pieces of my psyche and helped me put them back together again--she rounded up the dogies and brought them home.  Now, however, I'm beginning to see that maybe it's time for Cowboy to relinquish some of her power.  I'm seeing, too, that even though Cowboy deserves a medal for helping me survive, she has some rather ugly qualities that detract from her otherwise golden image. 

You see, because Cowboy has ridden to the fore in rescuing me and protecting me and all the other parts of my psyche, she has developed an "attitude" in the process.  For one thing, she is contemptuous of the parts that have not been as forthcoming as she.  She sees herself as a hero, rough and tough, and she regards the parts of me that have been more passive as "wusses," sissies, sniveling cowards, worthless laggards.  In other words, she sees herself as superior, better than the other parts.  Not good!  Rather than join the other parts of my psyche in working together for the good of Jean, Cowboy appears to be drifting into isolation.  She appears to be setting herself apart from the others and spending less time in the midst of the community of parts. 

Why is this happening?  My theory is that as I am healing, I no longer have as much need for Cowboy's help as I formerly did.  Cowboy senses that, and she doesn't know how to deal with the changes in my psyche.  I am no longer an abused and neglected child who needs a mother, and I am no longer an abused wife.  In fact, for the past thirty-some years, I have slowly taken over the work of protecting myself and have externalized my response to threats without needing her help.  Cowboy may be feeling unwanted, unneeded, and unappreciated.  The fact is--while her environment has been slowly changing, Cowboy has not adapted herself to that change.  How can I help her?

Coming soon, I hope:   How Cowboy and I come to terms with her need to change.  

Help! How do I go about finding a competent EMDR therapist?

Somebody found my Google blog today by asking this question:  "Can an untrained EMDR therapist cause . . "  I'm assuming the complete question would be something like, "Can an untrained EMDR therapist cause damage to a client?"

My reply to the question above is, "Yes, an untrained or poorly trained therapist who works with EMDR can definitely cause damage to a client!" I was, in fact, damaged by a previous therapist who didn't know what she was doing. The memory of this bad experience slowed my recovery because it made me reluctant to continue in therapy. In order to help you avoid some of the pitfalls of finding a competent therapist, here is a guide published by the EMDR Institute:

Choosing a Clinician:

Make sure that the EMDR training your clinician has taken is approved by EMDR International Association or EMDR -Europe. Clinicians may have unknowingly taken substandard training. EMDR should be used only by licensed clinicians specifically trained in EMDR. Take time to interview your prospective clinician. Make sure that he or she has the appropriate training in EMDR and has kept up with the latest developments. The basic course is at least 5 days of training over two weekends, or spans several months, plus supervision, consultation, and continuing education. While training is mandatory, it is not sufficient. Choose a clinician who is experienced with EMDR and has a good success rate. Make sure that the clinician is comfortable in treating your particular problem. In addition, it is important that you feel a sense of trust and rapport with the clinician. Ask each prospective clinician:

1. Have you received both Part 1 and 2 of the basic training?
2. Was your training program approved by EMDRIA or EMDR Europe?
3. Have you kept up to date about the latest protocols and developments?
4. How many people with my particular problems or disorder have you successfully treated?
5. What is your success rate?
6. Are you doing standard EMDR as it is (a) described in Dr. Shapiro's text, (b) supported by EMDRIA, and (c) been tested in research?
7. Will you discuss with me the way EMDR can deal with my obvious symptoms?
8. Will you also discuss with me the ways EMDR can be used to help me live a happier, more productive life by treating the other negative memories, beliefs, feelings, and actions that may be running my life?

http://www.emdrnetwork.org/choosing.html

Following the guidelines above will help your chances of finding a competent, experienced therapist who will help you heal your C-PTSD, but these guidelines alone will not do the job.  I had a list of guidelines in my mind when I chose my previous therapist.  However, the fact that our therapist-client relationship sank like a rock was due in part, at least, to my overriding the red flags of warning sent up by my intuition.  Had I paid attention to the message my intuition sent me, I could have saved myself from a very bad experience, an experience that I certainly did not deserve or need!

Remember:  You have the right to evaluate a prospective therapist and to make sure the person is qualified to help you and is a good fit for you.  Try not to be as timid as I was!  Do your research on the person, test the waters in an interview, and make one of the most important decisions of your life.  My best wishes for a productive and beautiful relationship with your therapist!