After several days of being in a strange calm and having this other aspect (walk-in) in primary control, I am finally being allowed to express to you all what is happening. It is not that I was being commanded to be quiet. This isn’t it at all. It is more like I needed to Be quiet in order to Allow, Reflect and Process.
Even now, though, it is hard to be in the forefront of my own mind. I begin to type and my mind freezes; blanks out. I feel I am not suppose to go too deep into my side of this journey; that there are certain limitations to be upheld. Even those last few words weren’t mine, yet they came from me. I can’t figure out how it is possible for such a thing to happen and just considering it causes me concern. Too much of my Christian upbringing interferes with my logic. It is like I panic and think, “I’ve been possessed!” Yet I know this is total nonsense.
You can see how completely insane this all sounds.
What I am allowed (I hate using that word) to communicate is what happened this morning. So that I will do.
Life Review Panel
When I woke up this morning I knew I had been in a discussion with my Panel, though the word panel was confusing to me. I had only ever heard Council so I knew this was something altogether different. I saw the Panel in front of me as I tried to get my bearings. It was just a flash of memory but then something about that flash brought on everything we had been discussing all at once.
Tears began to pour out of my eyes.
Memories followed. Memories mostly from my childhood. So many memories that I cannot remember them all in the order they were reviewed. It is like pictures of a photo album flipping page to page so fast I cannot keep track.
I grabbed hold of a belief/decision I came to long ago. The decision/belief was, “Nothing good ever lasts”. There were other similar ones like,”I must reject others before they reject me,” and “When I’m happy I get hurt.”
Memories (in no particular order)
I remembered when I was very young, maybe 4 or 5. My mom was laying in her bed and opened her arms up to me inviting me to snuggle. I hesitated. In my mind I remembered receiving both love and hate from her. The feeling she sent me was never consistent and the hate/anger she sent was so unbearable and in direct opposition to the feeling of love. It hurt. I decided then and there never to accept love from her again. I told her, “No” and when she reached out lovingly and hugged me close, I pushed her away.
Then came all the memories from the divorce. Oh I hate those memories! Mom telling me bad things about my dad. Dad telling me bad things about my mom. Mom probing me for answers after I would visit my dad. Me in tears every time I had to go on weekend visits with my Dad. Dad breaking into our house and stealing from us, from me. Dad telling me he would not take me home. I was so terrified I would never get home that I memorized the 1 hour trip to my Dad’s and was able to show my mom how to get there when she couldn’t find him. Only a traumatized child could do something like that.
I remember crazy energy and emotions bombarding me all the time. No one ever told me what was going on. No one helped me understand. That is when I started begging God to let me die. I thought over and over, “I wish I were dead.” These thoughts have never really gone away completely, either.
As any child under similar circumstances would do, I began to act out. I got more spankings than I can count and was so defiant I would laugh at my mom when she spanked me despite the pain. I didn’t want her to win.
I remember my mom being so fed up with me that she started threatening to take me to an orphanage. She even showed me a flyer about a boarding school for girls. In one instance, on a road trip to Houston, she stopped on the side of the road and made me get out of the car telling me she would call the orphanage to come get me. Talk about traumatizing! I really thought she was going to leave me there.
It’s not like I was a good little girl, though. I was awful, really. I did awful things. I thought awful things. I use to purposefully do things to get my little sister in trouble. I carved her initials everywhere and cut up my clothes so she couldn’t get them as hand-me-downs. And the thoughts I had back then, no little girl of 7-8 should ever have such thoughts. I was truly disturbed and defiant.
Though I was a straight A student, I went to the principal’s office every single year until I was a freshman in high school. Usually it was because I would tell off a teacher or refuse to do what they asked me to do. When I was 7 I was so horrible one day that I got “the paddle”. This was back when corporal punishment was still allowed. My mom witnessed it. It was humiliating. You know what got me there? I chased down a boy on the playground and kissed him. LOL
Then there were the memories of how I never had friends and the friends I did have I mistreated. There was the friend who I beat up in the bathroom when I was 4 despite the fact that she was almost a foot taller than me. Then there was the friend who I was mean to all the time when I was 8. I made her cry over and over and never felt bad about it. I thought it was fun (WTF, right?). This all reversed flow on me later on, though.
And I don’t even remember everything from that time in my life. I believe I disconnected from everyone and everything in order to protect myself from all the pain. Everything in my life was destroyed. It is no wonder I decided that happiness = hurt, and decided that anything and everyone I loved would end up hurting or rejecting me. My solution was push everyone away. Reject them first. And when I did allow love into my life, I always knew it would not last, that it would be taken away from me and it would be my fault because I am no good, worthless and deserve it.
If you have made it this far, thank you. I am sorry for all the negative history regurgitation.
After all this memory influx, I was asked, “What do you feel is your greatest life accomplishment?” Without hesitation I answered, “My children”.
Then I was asked, “What do you feel is your greatest life regret?”
This one took me a while but I eventually answered, “I didn’t live. I was too afraid to live.”
Ultimately, then, my greatest regret is succumbing to fear.
They then asked me, “What lessons do you still have to learn?”
And I knew the answer instantly. “I still need to learn how to be alone.” Yay! I am guessing my next life will be fun. 😦