Saturday, September 25, 2004

A Recovery Bill of Rights for Trauma Survivors

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By virtue of your personal :
Authority
  • Manage your life according to your own values and judgment.
  • Direct your recovery, answerable to no one for your goals or progress.
  • Gather information to make intelligent decisions about your recovery.
  • Seek help from many sources, unhindered by demands for exclusivity.
  • Decline help from anyone without having to justify the decision.
  • Believe in your ability to heal and seek allies who share your faith.
  • Trust allies in healing so far as one human can trust another.
  • Be afraid and avoid what frightens you.
  • Decide for yourself whether, when, and where to confront fear.
  • Learn by experimenting, that is, make mistakes.


To guard your personal

Boundaries

You have the Right to . . .

  • Be touched only with, and within the limits of, your consent.
  • Speak or remain silent, about any topic and at any time, as you wish.
  • Choose to accept or decline feedback, suggestions, or interpretations.
  • Ask for help in healing, without having to accept help with everything.
  • Challenge any crossing of your boundaries.
  • Take action to stop a trespass that does not cease when challenged.


For the integrity of your personal

Communication

You have the Right to

  • Ask for explanation of communications you do not understand.
  • Express a contrary view when you do understand and you disagree.
  • Acknowledge your feelings, without having to justify them.
  • Ask for changes when your needs are not being met.
  • Speak of your experience, without apology for your uncertainties.
  • Resolve doubt without deferring to the views or wishes of anyone.


For safety in your personal

Dependency in Therapy

You have the Right to . . .

  • Hire a therapist or counselor as coach, not boss, of your recovery.
  • Receive expert and faithful assistance in healing from your therapist.
  • Know that your therapist will never have any other relationship with you -- business, social, or sexual.
  • Be secure against any disclosure by your therapist, except with your consent or under court order.
  • Hold your therapist's undivided loyalty in relation to all abusers.
  • Obtain informative answers to questions about your condition, your therapist's qualifications, and any proposed treatment.
  • Have your safety given priority by your therapist, to the point of readiness to use all lawful means to neutralize an imminent threat to your life or that of someone else.
  • Receive a commitment from your therapist that is not conditional on your "good behavior" (habitual crime and endangerment excepted).
  • Make clear and reliable agreements about the times of sessions and of your therapist's availability.
  • Telephone your therapist between scheduled sessions, in urgent need, and receive a return call within a reasonable time.
  • Be taught skills that lessen the risk of re-traumatization:
  • containment (boundaries for recovery work);
  • control of attention and mental imagery;
  • systematic relaxation.
    • Enjoy reasonable physical comfort during sessions.

    From www.sidran.org The Sidran Institute.

    Salvation Army or Convenience Army

    Good grief, what is today’s world coming to? I received a phone call not too long ago regarding my estranged mother. It seems she was trying to donate a couch to the Salvation Army. The Salvation Army, in their infinite wisdom, refused to accept the perfectly usable couch.

    Granted, the couch has seen better days. It could use some new slipcovers, but it does have redeeming qualities. It is a sofa-bed. It opens up into a ¾-size mattress that is very comfortable to sleep on, and has storage underneath.

    Yet, the Salvation Army crew that came to retrieve the couch said they could not take the couch. Why, you ask? For one reason and one reason only, the couch was down stairs.

    What did I just hear? The Salvation Army doesn’t take donations if the furniture isn’t on ground level? What is the sense in that? Yes, I can understand they are understaffed, and are a non-profit organization who works on volunteers, but refusing a donation based on the location of the furniture?

    My mother is 72 years old, has cancer, and can barely climb up and down stairs herself. Yet in the tiny recesses of her twisted heart, there seems there is some good left, and she called to donate a piece of furniture to an organization that is SUPPOSED to donate furniture to the needy. Another family sleeps on the floor, thanks to Salvation Army’s thoughtless, selfishness, and outright greed.

    I can understand why Salvation Army doesn’t want to be carting up furniture for able bodied citizens, but Senior Citizens trying to do something good in the community? Something is very very wrong at Salvation Army!

    Tomorrow, my 74 year old father, and my able bodied brother are going to try to drag that couch up the stairs, so the Salvation Army can come back again. If my father suffers a heart attack while trying to drag that couch up those stairs, I wonder, if my mother has a valid lawsuit.

    It makes me wonder why people even bother trying to turn a good deed, when they are slapped on the wrist for it.
    Just my thoughts

    Thursday, September 23, 2004

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    Me at my desk

    The Demon Cat from Hell


    Skunk the Queen Cat

    Skunk has been with me for 14 years now. She was born on June 4 1990. I picked her out of the litter when she was just two days old. She came from a small litter, just 4 kittens in all, 2 long haired gray kittens, and 2 short haired black kittens. She had the only white markings of the litter.

    Skunk received her ‘unique’ name, because of the white stripe that runs from the side of her nose (which you can see in the picture) down her belly, to the base of her tail. When she was a kitten, this stripe – was much more skunk-like than kitten like. Now that she is a more “mature” cat, it has spread to be a full belly white.

    Her sister, the other black kitten, turned out to be ‘mentally retarded’. She was so funny, she did not know what to do with her tongue, so she let it dangle from her mouth most of the time. I heard she needed jaw surgery to correct a deformity there. I felt sorry for the poor kitten, but she went to a good and loving home, and not to the “extinguisher’s life ending home”.

    I took a male grey longhaired kitten along with Skunk, to give to my friend Kate, for a birthday present. She lives on a large farm in central NY. I asked her permission of course, and she explained she was afraid of taking such a young kitten. I said not to worry, I planned on getting him all his shots before handing him over, and by that time, he would be old enough to become the family’s farm cat.

    When Skunk and “Thor” (later renamed “Mikey”) came to live with me, they were happy silly kittens. Both loved living in my apartment. Thor loved to sleep on my hip, and of course, both loved to play chase at 3:00 in the morning.

    I did not mind them playing so much, but when they used my back as a springboard for launching a surprise attack at each other, that’s when I got up, and ended the shenanigans, by locking them out of my bedroom.

    Skunk learned that body slamming the bedroom door would get me out of bed to re-open the door. Usually both kittens would come to bed after that. Sleeping arrangements stayed the same until Thor went to live with Kate. Skunk, took up position on my hip after he left. She was a bit sad to see him go, but I think she was always happier when I lavished attention on her.

    She is a spoiled cat. From day one, I allowed her to sit on the table while I ate my meals. The reason for this is, I live alone, and Skunk was my companion. I lived in an apartment where dogs were not allowed. She always sat across the table, watching and being a good companion. If I got up from the table to get something, she would stay where she was. Only when I finished my plate, and got up to put it in the sink, did she rise from where she sat. I would always save a few morsels for her, and I gave them to her at her end of the table. Occasionally, she would mess up, and I think she knew that it was not generally allowed in other people’s houses.
    When skunk was a kitten, I took her everywhere with me. Grocery shopping, to get gas in the car, to my parent’s summer home to go swimming (she didn’t swim of course), out on errands of any form or kind. So, she got used to being in the car, and loved going for car rides. It was awful. She was a fanatic (and still is). If I touched my keys, and her harness at the same time, she’d go absolutely nuts. Worse than any dog you’ve ever seen! I still can’t touch my keys and her harness at the same time. Even though she’s been in the car for well over 7,500 miles (more on that later).

    While Skunk was growing up, I had two boys, Danny and Shane, who pretty much lived with me on weekends. They were very troubled teens, into drugs, drinking, skipping school, in a bad sort of way. That –was not- allowed in my house. I will address Danny and Shane in another post.

    Anyhow, around time for Skunk to go into heat, she fell in love with Danny. Poor Danny! Every single time he came over, Skunk followed him around, mewing amorously. Then, I got her fixed. Oh lordy, Skunk’s name soon became extremely fitting.

    In Danny’s words, Skunk became the “Demon Cat From Hell.” Skunk not only got her “tonsils removed”, but she also had her claws removed. She was a digger, and I could not afford to be replacing carpets. Also, I planned on never allowing her to see the outdoors except through the windows.

    The newly coined “Demon Cat from Hell” would, upon Danny’s arrival, jump into his lap, and DARE him to move or twitch a muscle, and if he did, she’d bite him with every jaw muscle she possessed. We all believe, that Skunk blamed Danny, and all teenagers in general, for the loss of her tonsils, because from that moment on, she has turned against ALL teenagers.

    After I chased skunk off Danny’s lap, she would curl up in Danny’s jacket, or some likely area where he would be sure to need to go, so that she could sneak up on him, and attack him again. She particularly liked to crawl into his coat sleeve, where it was difficult to remove her.

    She does it to all teens. The moment they sit down, she jumps into their lap. If they twitch – she hisses and snaps. It really is somewhat funny to watch with the older boys. They do not know what to do, other than to sit, frozen in position. Skunk has always been a single person cat. Her boyfriend spurned her, and now, takes it out on all people, except my father, who she loves to pieces (he gives her blueberry muffins… Mmmm, yummy… her favorite breakfast treat).

    In 1991, I decided I would spend Christmas vacation in Yuma, Arizona with my brother and Sister-in-Law. I had not seen them in ages, and I wanted to do a fact finding tour. I wanted to get out of New York, and as far away from it as I could.

    I had, for my 21st birthday present, spent two wonderful weeks in Phoenix. I loved it then. So, I was going back to see if Arizona could be the place I wanted to move to. I know the weather is so much different from New York; I was not worried about that. I NEEDED to get away.

    Arizona was really the only choice I had. I needed some sort of Family connection, my brother and sister-in-law were already in Yuma, and I had a cousin in Phoenix.

    So, for two weeks, I roamed Yuma, drove up to Phoenix, and explored. It was gorgeous, and I fell in love with the whole state all over again. It had grown a lot in the 8 years since I had been there. I did not recognize anything from when I had been there before.

    Anyhow, we packed, and closed shop, I gave my boss my notice (6months notice!) and Skunk, and my friend Kate, the Ryder truck, my car attached to the back, and I headed across country. I had no carrier for Skunk; we just had her kitty litter, her harness, and a place for her to sleep in the cab behind the driver’s seat.

    After the first few miles of driving, when she was settling in, I did not know she was even present in the truck. It was amazing. 2500 miles, and you’d not know there was a cat present in the truck, other than occasionally she’d want to ride on the dashboard (which once I discovered that she did not block the view – I allowed), or she’d want to ride on the passenger’s lap, or she’d want to ride on the driver’s lap, all of which was allowed.

    We left New York on May 15th 1992, and arrived in Yuma on May 22nd 1992. My brother, had three cats and a dog, May, Savannah, and Moe, and Max the dog. Skunk got along with Moe fantastically, but the other two, she did not tolerate too well. Max, was relegated to living outside, until we could determine if he was going to tolerate Skunk, or try to eat her.

    It all worked out in the end, and Max and Skunk tolerated each other at a distance, and finally, I moved up from Yuma to Mesa, Arizona, where I spent the remainder of my 10 years on that side of the world. Skunk loved it there, though she gave me a few heart attacks.

    In the early days of living in a townhouse, there were occasions when tree scorpions would find their way into the house! This was a bit scary for me, since I was from the east coast, and not at all familiar with the dealings with scorpions!

    One day, I came down the stairs from my bedroom (all the bedrooms were upstairs) only to find Skunk playing with a live tree scorpion (they’re about 3” long, brownish in color – which was fun to deal with because my carpets were brown). I was barefooted at the time, so I could not step on the scorpion, but I did chase skunk away from it. I ran and got something to squash the scorpion with, but when I came back to do this, it was gone. Immediately, I got on the phone with exterminators to come and spray my house. I was worried sick, what if they stung my cat!!!

    The exterminators came, and sprayed inside and outside my house, and did a survey, and told me that I would continue to get inside scorpions, until I had the branches from three trees removed from certain trees, because they were touching the roof of my townhouse!

    Then he gave me the best news I could have heard. “Cats are immune to scorpion stings.” I still don’t believe him about that news, but, my cat never did get hurt, and I had those branches removed, the scorpions stopped coming in, and Skunk is still alive and well.

    There were several occasions when my folks wanted me to come and visit NY for some time in the summers, so I said to them, I am not leaving Skunk behind, it is too expensive to board her in a kennel, and if she does come on the plane, she is not going in the ‘hold’ area.

    So, armed with this information, we went in search of ways to get me back to NY, with the cat, without having to put the cat in the “luggage area”. She could, we found out, be carried on the plane with me, in a special carrier, as long as it fit under the seat in front of me. So, Skunk became a flying companion as well as a car-driving companion. She has been back and forth to NY on a plane 4 times. I’m quite sure she has traveled more than any other feline in history, perhaps other than the Hollywood feline ‘actors’.

    In 2002, the owners of the townhouse (my parents.. that will come in another post) decided to sell the townhouse, forcing me to return to New York – or live on the streets out of my car – in Phoenix, Arizona. Since that was not really a choice, with 3 animals, (in the 10 years that I was in Phoenix, I finally got another German Shepherd “Arizona Sunshine” and another cat – a rescue from “Petsmart” “Babe”) .

    So, once again, Skunk endured traveling across country, this time from Phoenix, to New York, where we now reside. She is 14, and going strong. She loves to sleep under a quilt, preferably all day long on any bed. She is the Matriarch, she bosses the german shepherd around, and tolerates Babe. She is still a one person cat, but when my dad arrives, she loves to see if he’s brought any blueberry muffins.

    She’s sleeping right now, curled up under the quilt on a spare bed. The sun is shining thru the mini-blind slats and the window is open. I wonder what she dreams of.

    Sweet sweet dreams my kitty.

    Introductions Introductions

    Hello,

    Welcome to Multiple Minds, I am your host or, should I say, Linda is the host. I will explain as we go along.

    What exactly –is- Multiple Minds you ask? Well, it is many things. It is first, and foremost, an informational journal. Secondly, it is a place for people to learn about multiple personality disorders, and finally, it’s about me, and where I fit into the scheme of the world.

    You see. I am a “We”. So far – 14 personalities – that have come “out” and actively participate with the world. Some are NOT so pleasant, most are children below the age of 10.

    I do not say that I am 10. I am Linda, and I’m 42 years old. We grew up. We have absolutely no memories of childhood from the age of 17 years old, and before. Those are hidden from me… but my friends, hear me talking about things from my youth, that is because through recent therapy, I have “recovered” some of those memories, and other times, my friends – are actually talking to my “family” – my alternate personalities.. Not me, my self and I.

    How did this happen? How does Multiple Personality Disorder happen in anyone, you can research it. The evidence that classic causes of MPD – severe abuse – sexual, physical, mental abuse – beginning before the age of 4 – with life threatening abuse – occurring to break the child’s psyche took place. In a nutshell – that explains the first 18 years of my life.

    Not all of my life was pain and torture. I had good moments. My father was not abusive, that was left to my mother and 2 out of 3 brothers (I have no memories of my oldest brother, so I leave him out at this time). We did the computers together; we have reading in common, and even like the same books. He often took me to work with him. I have early memories of him plopping me down in front of a computer. I ran the old cardpunch computers at 4 yrs old. I corrected Final Exams for my father’s “Master’s Degree” students when I was just 7 years old, and I remember feeling so privileged to be able to use a red pen, and not a baby pencil.

    Anyhow, enough about me for now. This is about this new and hopefully informational Blog.

    More to come!

    Linda

    Wednesday, September 22, 2004

    Opening Comment

    Hello and welcome to Multiple Minds

    I see some people scratching their heads out there. Multiple Minds. Humn, how does that work. We have only one mind. True, we're given to changing our minds, we're prone to moods and dark turnings, bright fancies.. but what does "Multiple Minds" mean exactly?

    Multiple Minds - is about Multiple Personality Disorder, the dark turns, the light fancies, the little's fun and playful times, the anger the angst, the frustration at not knowing where you've been for minutes, hours, days on end. I hope that it will be an informative blog, and I hope you'll enjoy reading, and it will have you coming back often.