Jade Miller's Blog

Hey folks,

Writing one more blog post to let you know that I am now offering my services as a peer worker.

I’ve felt for awhile now that I’m ready to move on from blogging on Thoughts From J8. “Moving on” definitely does not mean that I won’t write anymore, or that I won’t be an advocate for multiples and trauma survivors.

I felt then, and still feel now, that I’m ready to sharpen my focus from the general, to the specific.

I’m ready to move from the impersonal sphere of blogging into the very personal trenches of recovery, alongside those who haven’t made it out yet — or those who support survivors.

I am here, and ready, to work with YOU.

And so, I give you:

Jade Miller Peer Consulting

 

 

Here are some more details for those of you who seem to enjoy my long-windedness.

Hey guys.

I feel like it’s time to close the chapter in my life wherein I am a trauma blogger at Thoughts From J8.

 

I started blogging 4 years ago and although I was unaware of it at the time, I think I mostly wrote blog posts as a way to cope with the fact that I wasn’t able to live the life I truly wanted to live. I was working on it, but not there yet.

 

Nowadays, I feel like I am living the life I want to live. And it honestly doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for introspection…or blogging.

 

I’ve been feeling pretty done for awhile now, but kept talking myself out of listening to that intuition. I’m not going to do that anymore.

I know we had some thoughts about continuing the podcast and a few other ideas, but I’m not feeling it. I just feel like I want to go live my life now.

 

This doesn’t mean I won’t ever write again. I’m sure I will. I’m a writer; I write; that’s what I do.

I just feel like Thoughts From J8 has served its purpose and I’m ready to let it rest.

 

I would be willing to do guest posts for people on occasion, if they want that. Don’t be shy about asking.

 

I would be willing to come and speak at events about trauma, DID, SRA, etc, if that’s something people desire. But 1) I’m not going to do a bunch of advertising/promoting myself for that purpose, and 2) my time is precious to me so my fee is high (just thought I should put that out there up front).

So this is Part 2, continued from my story about my experience with inner healing prayer ministry.

TW: more discussion of Christianity, God/ Jesus, patriarchy, hierarchy, and shit like that. Don’t read it if you don’t think it would be good for you.

 

 

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But first, you need to know about the aftermath. In case MF or AF ever read this, I want them to know. This is the aftermath, and these things are still true after over a year’s worth of time, space, and processing.

 

The aftermath is a no-man’s land where I still miss them intensely and don’t quite know how to wrap my mind around the fact that THEY ARE NO LONGER IN MY LIFE WHEN THEY SAID THEY WOULD BE.

The aftermath is me – and often my husband – fielding questions from my littles as to where “Mama MF” is, or when they can talk to her, or why they can’t text her. There are no easy answers to these questions, and we shouldn’t be the ones having to answer them anyway.

The aftermath is having a picture of MF and AF, folded up, in my wallet, that says “I love you!” that’s been there for 3 years now (ever since whenever they sent it to me in the mail along with something else) because I can’t make myself throw it away. It hurts too much to look at it, but it would hurt worse if I put it in the trash. I will either throw it away – if at some point I give up hope that things can be resolved with them – or I won’t. I can’t possibly figure out which would be more painful.

The aftermath is trying to figure out a way to explain to my husband why his borrowing of the coffee mug that THEY gave me (with their ministry logo on it) nearly causes me an anxiety attack because THAT MUG IS SPECIAL BECAUSE IT WAS FROM THEM. Even I know how irrational (and probably stupid) this sounds. I try to say to myself: They don’t love me anymore. Maybe they never did. But I still guard The Mug, and anything else they gave me (which is luckily not that many things) with a pathological level of reverence. This makes no sense, and I’ve tried asking myself for an explanation but I don’t have one.

These things – these gifts – are simply souvenirs now. Souvenirs of a time when I felt like someone gave a shit when no one else seemed to. Guess it’s a good thing we got that sorted. Maybe one day I’ll be ready to let them go. Maybe I won’t.

The aftermath is when I don’t even know what I believe about God anymore, because MF and AF were – supposedly – the two women in my life who were closer to God than anyone else I had met. And if this is how God treats people, or if He is okay with this, or if He has no word of correction or exhortation for these women… and if this is what people closest to God do to people who are hurting… then I want no part of it.

I no longer believe in hell (which is somewhat coincidental and not directly related to this situation), but if hell did exist I have already lived it several times over, so I don’t have any interest in worrying about a hell that might still be coming for me. (Bring it on, lightweight.)

The aftermath is the mockingjay pendant MF gave me that hangs from my rearview mirror (because I AM THE MOCKINGJAY, obvs; I am Katniss). I can’t take it down.

The aftermath is all the songs I can’t listen to without remembering the exact place and emotional state I was in when MF introduced me to that artist or that song. Worship music. They make me ache for her, for the mother she was to me, for the mother I can never have.

The aftermath is when I continually have imaginary conversations with MF (and sometimes AF, though I am less concerned with her) in which I reiterate variations of It’s okay to go “I’m sorry, I got overwhelmed. Shit was blowing up for me behind the scenes and I made some bad choices and it hurt you and that’s the last thing I ever would have wanted to happen and I’m so fucking sorry.” Because I would be able to accept that. LET ME BE YOUR FRIEND. LET ME FORGIVE YOU. GIVE ME A CHANCE TO GIVE YOU THAT BECAUSE I WILL. But it’s not okay to go “You misunderstood, we didn’t do that to you.” It’s not okay to refuse to deal with the mess of me THAT YOU MADE. And just FYI, I still worry about you. Even though YOU hurt ME, I am still worried that things will not go well with the board of directors. Although it would be more just for things to NOT go well, I am worried they will say hurtful but true things to you and you will not be okay. I don’t want you to suffer but I do want you to learn… and maybe grow… from all this.

And then I wake back up to reality and know that those conversations probably won’t ever happen and I feel lost all over again.

 

So here are some reasons my story, and the types of things that happened to me within a ministry setting, is frighteningly common.

I have personally observed the following things to be true specifically about conservative evangelical Christianity. This is not an exhaustive list by any means, and these are listed in no particular order.

Please understand that I cannot speak for other religions or other expressions of this religion. However, having said that, if you observe any of these issues in any setting or situation, be very very cautious about associating with the people involved.

1. There is a power dynamic set up from the very beginning, where the minister is “one up” because they are ministering and the recipient is “one down” because they are “sick.”

Oftentimes this starts innocently enough; when someone seeks help (especially for an emotional problem) it is assumed that the person from whom they are seeking help is more emotionally healthy in that particular area and thus has something valuable to contribute.

That’s reasonable. You don’t go to an alcoholic to get sober.

But unfortunately this also puts already-vulnerable people in a position in which they can easily be exploited. Many ministers let this power go to their head, and they are unwilling to entertain the idea that they might be wrong – in thought, intuition, or opinion – while in relationship with the person to whom they are ministering. If the person receiving ministry dares question or disagree with them, their opinion or concern can be written off because they are the “sick” one; the “crazy” one.

2. Inner healing ministry is advertised like it’s a product that Christians need, but like any product, the basis for its appeal is on the idea that you are “broken” or “damaged.”

I don’t want to go too deeply into the concept of universal multiplicity, but I would encourage you to hop over to Beauty After Bruises and read You Did Not Shatter.

There’s this idea taught in a variety of settings that little kids – babies even – are born with a unified and cohesive personality and that trauma shatters it. But the problem is that there is actually no neuroscience to prove or disprove that. And by observation and experience and even basic logic it’s quite unlikely that that’s true (or even possible).

People can be observed at every stage of life as being not just one, but a collection, of ego states at any given time and at different times and in different situations. The idea that ANYONE is a single unified personality – ever – is mostly a social construct. We see people as “one” unified ego state because that is what we are socialized to see. That is how we are raised to interpret people. But it’s an illusion.

People move in and out of differing and opposing ego states all the time. It’s far more likely – IMO – that people are born as a collection of ego states and trauma prevents them from coming together as a team.

Whereas healthy parenting – for those lucky enough to experience it – helps the person learn not to put up walls between their ego states, and dysfunctional/insensitive/abusive parenting teaches the person to wall off the aspects of themselves that are categorized as problematic.

But you probably won’t find any inner healing people who believe or teach that, because they can’t sell you a product if they can’t convince you you’re broken.

Probably one of the quietest – but largest – breakthroughs I had after the fallout with MF and AF came when I told MF in an email: “I have outgrown the need to let other people define me in terms of how ‘broken’ or how ‘fixed’ they think I am.”

Framing others as damaged, once again, automatically casts the ministers in the role of undamaged and reinforces the power dynamic mentioned above.

And the problem is that people are out there teaching these things – that we are damaged, that we are broken, that we have “shattered” – as if THEY KNOW THIS TO BE TRUE. There are teachers out there teaching about all these different facets of inner healing and presenting things as known facts, when they are simply opinions, at best.

I don’t have a problem with someone standing in front of a crowd and saying “I believe x y or z might be possible and here are the things I’ve observed that make me think so but there is actually no measurable proof,” but I do have a problem with someone portraying themselves as a knowledgable teacher and teaching things they can’t possibly know for sure. Once again, it sets up the teacher as being the exclusive source of information and the students can ONLY learn it from THEM.

I can’t count the number of times I was told when immersed in inner healing prayer ministry that I was “too broken” or “too damaged” to help anyone in my current state, and was vehemently discouraged from even entertaining that thought until I was “totally” healed. Now, don’t get me wrong. I was fucked up. For a lot of years. And I wasn’t exactly actively pursuing a career in inner healing ministry during that time — I had my hands full just trying to survive from day to day. But at those infrequent times when I did mention being interested in using what I learned as I healed to help others at some future date, it was made to sound as if only the ministers were qualified to judge when I was healed “enough” to be of use to anyone else. (For your edification, this is bullshit.) I’m not arguing with the idea that a person needs a certain level of stability and self-awareness before trying to reach out to anyone else as the helper. Those things are important, both in terms of avoiding sawing the limb off that they’re hanging onto, and to avoid doing damage to anyone else. But I do take issue with the thought that the prayer minister is the only one who can be the judge of someone else’s emotional, spiritual, and mental health.

I am both self-aware enough to know my limits, and also emotionally intelligent enough to know what I can and can’t offer to other people. I’ve been a moderator in The Dissociative Initiative for several years now and I know when to get involved with hot topics and when to take a hard pass. And as far as I know, my blog has been marginally helpful to many people – even if only to assure them they are not alone – the entire time I was being ministered to.

All this aside, it’s just one more area where the idea is reinforced that an abuse victim cannot trust their own judgment. Granted, our judgment can be skewed – years of trauma and abuse can do that to you – but the solution isn’t to make us totally dependent on someone else. The solution is to strengthen our own ability to make good decisions and trust ourselves.

3. Bad boundaries. Like, really, really bad boundaries.

Conservative evangelical Christianity sucks ass when it comes to boundaries. It really does. Some churches – including one I was part of – actually teach bad boundaries as a core doctrine (citing Galatians 6:2 where the Bible says we should carry each other’s burdens). Once I started actually forming and enforcing healthy boundaries, I couldn’t un-see all the areas where Christianity has really, really bad ones. For instance, when I invited my neighbors over for dinner for the first time, after having just moved to the neighborhood a month prior, the wife immediately began telling me extremely personal details about her life. When we’d only just met. She seemed to have no problem with this because it was part of – as she told me – her “testimony.” And I used to be largely the same way. Being an introvert, I may not have been as openly detailed as some of my extroverted “spiritual family members,” (air quotes) but I used to believe that people were entitled to intensely personal information simply because we were quote-unquote spiritual family. Only in retrospect does this seem extremely strange. There are many more examples I could give you, but instead I will defer you to this article.

As it pertains to Part 1 of my story, boundaries were screwy from the very beginning, and I couldn’t see it because it just seemed normal to me at the time. MF knew me for years before I was ever a ministry client. That alone would have probably caused a psychotherapist to recuse herself from being my therapist (at least, according to my most recent one). But because this is ministry and not psychology, that boundary was crossed. Having the boundary blurred between what kind of relationship we had was the next major blunder. Was I her spiritual daughter? Was I a client? When could I contact her? What was okay and what wasn’t, as far as the nature of our interactions – not just from my end, but from hers? If she had been a psychotherapist and I were a client, those boundaries would have been made known – and adhered to – from the beginning. Because it was a ministry, they weren’t in either case. Ironically, healthy boundaries was a topic that MF and AF taught about regularly from behind the podium. Yet neither of them necessarily seem all that great about applying those teachings to their personal lives.

4. Cognitive dissonance is normal.

Conservative evangelical Christianity is founded on cognitive dissonance. God loves you, but if you don’t do what he wants he will send you to hell. You are made in God’s image yet you are a piece of shit because the first man and woman disobeyed eons ago and you inherited the consequences. God loved his son but chose to kill him for your sake. Etc. They pick and choose which verses should be taken literally, which should be taken figuratively, and which should be disregarded altogether. The way the Bible has been translated (mostly by white men of affluence, by the way) has rendered it full of contradictions, and this is presented as normal. Anyone raised in conservative evangelical Christianity is just so used to the cognitive dissonance, they barely even notice it. This is what allows them to believe one thing and live a life that directly contradicts what they say they believe. It undermines their basic humanity by eroding their conscience.

I believe that came into play with MF and AF (although I have no direct way of knowing, so please understand this is just my opinion). In a person who does not have a high tolerance for cognitive dissonance, they would easily see the hypocrisy and utter immorality of telling another human being that they love them, yet sending them into life-threatening danger after every session, when they had the resources to step in and intervene.

5. Being challenged is written off as being “persecuted.”

Rather than genuinely considering another person’s questions, disagreement, or criticism, those statements are written off as “persecution.” In fact, the more of any of those things you receive, the more you are considered “being attacked” by the enemy and it is taken as a sign that you are surely doing so many things RIGHT. Do you see the closed loop that this creates?

6. There is no accountability within the ministry setting.

I won’t say this is true of every single ministry within existence, but I will say that I’ve never observed any ministry – inner healing or otherwise – that had any genuine accountability of any consequence. In the one in question (that I was involved with), since they are a 501(c)3 nonprofit, they have a board of directors — but everyone on that board was chosen by MF and AF. So of course they’re going to choose people that already approve of what they’re doing and are very unlikely to question them or pursue conflict resolution for the best interest of the opposite party.

7. The role of the minister is confused with the role of God in the healing process.

I’m sure sometimes this happens innocently, but sometimes it is perpetuated by the minister themselves. The idea of God healing the person becomes intermixed (or subtly replaced) by the idea that the minister is healing the person, and it can often be pinned on the minister’s anointing or ability or even the closeness of their relationship with God. I was talking with a friend of mine about this just the other day. This is perhaps why people are afraid to question a minister – because (whether the minister encourages this idea or not, and don’t tell me none of them do) questioning the minister or ministry becomes equated with questioning God.

It doesn’t help that many times the things the minister says or does are reported to be directly inspired by God from their personal meditation time. They will claim God directly told them x y or z, and that’s where they learned it. What is someone supposed to say to that? How is someone supposed to disagree with it? Where does human error and lack of self-awareness of one’s shortcomings come into play?

Even in the process of attempting to resolve this situation with MF and AF and ultimately having to go to their board of directors, several people have called me “brave.” Which confused me. Because telling the truth and refusing to tolerate any more gaslighting or abuse is just part of my own principles of self-love and self-respect that I try to live by, nowadays. According to my own moral compass, the choices I had to make were clear to me. But perhaps the perception of being brave was coming from the inability of others to stand up to people like MF and AF, because of the association with it of questioning God himself. I don’t really know.

8. There is a certain intrigue/mystery/elevated status involved with being willing to work with people who have DID, especially if SRA is involved.

I don’t know if this played into what happened with MF and AF. But I have known it to be true in other circles. The idea that you have the skill and the maturity to handle a case of DID/SRA is almost a status symbol in the realm of inner healing. We are the ultimate trophy, the sign that you have truly “arrived,” and are Good At This. If you can help a DID/SRA heal, you can do anything. Or so people seem to believe. It’s gross, but it’s true.

 

 

So these are just a few reasons that shit like this goes down. I’m sure many more could be added. This is not actually meant to sound like a diatribe against all of Christianity. But there are problems with the conservative evangelical strain…namely, that it’s toxic and dysfunctional. I will discuss a few more related topics in Part 3, and hopefully wrap up this damn thing and be done with it.

Thanks for sticking around and sticking with me. Cheers.

J

TW: I am going to talk about God and Jesus and Christianity and faith-based stuff in this post. There’s no way around it. I am also going to have to mention (in passing) ritual days, self-harm, suicide, cult abuse, etc. –nothing detailed.  Please don’t feel obligated to continue if these topics are triggering for you.

 

 

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I’m sitting in Starbucks with my laptop, and I’m about to tell you a story. It’s going to be a little long (but when have I ever been short-winded?!), so buckle up.

This story has been a long time coming, and I’ve put it off as I lived through it and processed and went through all the stages of grief including shock, denial, anger, depression etc. You know the drill.

I never originally intended to tell this story, but

as a kid I had to accept that all I could do was just fade quietly into the background and disappear whenever I was mistreated, and in my adult life I’m not real good at doing that anymore

and

this dynamic that abuse victims are taught – the dynamic of protecting those who hurt us – is sick, and needs to stop. Period, the end. I actually didn’t even realize that’s what I was doing until recently. I realized that once again, even though I was the one who was mistreated, out of some strange sense of loyalty, I was protecting the ones who mistreated me. Which is ludicrous. When I realized it I thought Oh hell no. I’m going to tell this thing. If they wanted it to sound better they should have acted better. If they wanted it to end better they should have made better choices when I reached out to them for resolution. 

I’m a writer. It’s what I do. I write to educate, advocate, and help others… but I also write for myself. Because it helps me. And telling my story is part of reclaiming the voice I lost to trauma. And that’s what I’m going to do.

So here we are.

Normally I try to eat really healthy, which for me means avoiding white sugar and white flour. But today at Starbucks I’m having a bona fide ultra caramel frappuccino (which should make for a fun day for my husband in about an hour

I’ve heard a lot of conversations lately where someone will reference someone else and classify them as a “safe” person. It intrigues me.

There’s been a whole book written about the qualities/ character traits of safe people, which I investigated when I was thinking about this whole concept.

Maybe because of how many adverse experiences I’ve had wherein people who were supposedly “safe” ended up acting in ways that were very unsafe, or maybe it’s because I’m fatalistic (or possibly because of other reasons), I have come to disagree with the idea that “safe” is a static character trait. Or even a trait at all.

Being “safe” is not like having brown eyes or being 5’6. It’s not a static personal trait.

To clarify, usually when I hear someone talk about another person being “safe” what is generally meant by it is that this “safe” person is unlikely to do something hurtful. That they are a trustworthy, dependable, loving, empathetic, accepting, emotionally healthy individual.

But the damn thing is, people are people. No one is any of those things I just listed all the time.

And no one is “safe” all the time either.

If you break down any one of those characteristics – including the concept of being “safe” as a character trait – they are actually comprised of choices. Choices to keep your confidence rather than gossip or betray your trust (trustworthiness), choices to do what they say they will do (dependability), choices to act with kindness and treat others with honor (loving), choices to try to understand someone else’s feelings and experience (empathetic), etc.

When I read through the list of traits in the book Safe People (Cloud & Townsend), even those so-called “traits” are actually a choice or series of choices that can be changed at any time.

Everyone has a choice in every situation, every relational interaction. They can choose to act in a way that is trustworthy – or not. They can choose to act in a way that is dependable – or not. They can choose to act in a way that is loving – or not. These are not once-for-all choices. They are new choices, new chances to make a choice, every single time, with every new situation. Every interaction is an opportunity to act in a way that is loving, empathetic, accepting, etc. – or not.

The same is true for being a “safe” person. It’s a choice. But it’s not a once-for-all choice. It’s an ongoing choice.

The reason this matters is that categorizing people as “safe” or “unsafe” fails to factor in their humanness and can put them on a pedestal of sorts. People are people. Even the most well-meaning of us still get tired, hungry, sick, hurt, scared, etc.

“Safe” is not a static character trait. It is a continuous choice. It can be changed.

Just as a small example, I myself am generally a “safe” person. I have an overall behavior pattern of making choices to be dependable, trustworthy, accepting, and empathetic. But I, of all people, am also acutely aware that I’m still human, and, if put in the right situation, even I am capable of doing just about anything.

Even the most loving of persons can lash out at others when they are in pain.

Even the most giving of persons can act selfish and self-centered when they are sick.

Even the most dependable of persons can fail to follow through on their word when they’re under stress.

Etc.

Categorizing people as “safe” can cause you to be blinded to warning signs that a particular person may not be making healthy choices right now. Confirmation bias can cause you to not recognize red flags until the “safe” person hurts you and you have no idea how or why that’s even possible because you never saw it coming even though you could have seen it coming…if you were looking.

At any rate, I have found all of this to be a very interesting idea. I know that I wouldn’t ever want anyone to put me on a pedestal and just blindly put their faith in me forever and ever, amen. I’m a human. I have good intentions but I could (and probably will, at least some of the time) fail. And I have learned – for better or worse – not to put absolute faith or trust in other humans either (hopefully in a healthy way and not just an avoidant, cynical way).

Just some food for thought.

 

Cheers.

 

J8

Hey folks. It’s Jade. I apologize for being AWOL. I’ve been working on DLO3, among other things. (Which, side note: it is now in the hands of the illustrator…this is the longest part of the process…I will keep you posted.

File this under relationship advice. But I think this will apply to far more than those who are romantic. Knowing how to *be* with one another, whether a survivor or not, is a life skill we could all use.

I’ve mentioned before that I come from a place of pretty hard and, in my opinion, rather toxic codependency.

And make no mistake, codependency is a survival skill, and the end goal IS CONTROL.

The sooner all of us realize this, the better. And the truth is that we all have a tinge of it. We want to be secure, to fix things, and to make “sure things” in life so that we can rest our minds and move on.

But this control, this meddling is a drain on the system, where you’re incessantly striving for more and more, relentlessly *trying* and never satisfied. We HATE ourselves and don’t take the time to nurture and believe ourselves WORTHY of love, and scramble to try to fix it, to right a sinking ship.

But we’re righting the wrong ship.

A good answer to all of this is a little something that Jade wrote back in 2016. We have to CHOOSE ourselves. 

When sharing life with a survivor, you’re bound to come across days where they’re just not ok. If you’re a codependent mess, you’re gonna mess with that shit, and they’re going to wind up having to take care of YOU instead of themselves.

There’s going to be days where you’re sitting beside them and they’re staring into their darkness. If it’s about YOU, if it’s about whether or not YOU’RE secure, you’re not going to be able hold their hand and let them be where they’re at.

So, if you want this to last, and if you desire them to be able to take refuge in your heart, then take some time to start studying the art of listening now. Personally, I’ve started to take a few minutes every week to hunt down Ted Talks on the subject, etc.

You see, it’s not a technique, but I’ll be honest, techniques aren’t a bad thing when you’re learning a new skill. Practicing a technique can help you develop a skill that will come naturally. Recently, I found this TedX talk, and though some of it is hit or miss, I really enjoyed one aspect of it: RASA.

R – Receive
A – Appreciate
S – Summarize
A – Ask

Personally, I have in the past had a habit of listening for a moment, and then wanting to interject with my own stories. I find an “oh me too!” moment in my past, and mistakenly take over.

Though not a deal breaker, if this happens over and over and over and over, it’s bound to shut a person down. They never get their full turn to speak and share their pain.

This acronym has given me a mental construct to shut that urge down. And I kid you not, if you take the moment to hone in on receiving what they are saying, appreciating it for what it is, you will tune into THEIR heart and mind, rather than your own insecurities.

It becomes about THEM and not about YOU.

I mean, isn’t that what YOU want when you speak? To be heard.

I think that one of the hardest things that was ever said to me is when I was spending time with one particularly dear inside person of Jade. We’ll call her my “Sweetheart.” I’ve known her AND Jade for many years.

My sweetheart is especially precious to my heart, and sometimes, many times she has grief to express and needs a safe place to rest that sorrow, or a friend to cry with. In the past, I haven’t always been terribly comfortable with that. I was taught as a child that if my mother was upset and sad, that it was my fault and I HAD TO FIX IT.

This is a lie.

I mean, if you’re directly responsible for the pain, sure, make it right. But if not, I hereby give you permission to sit, be still and simply listen.

But anyway, back to my Sweetheart… she asked,

“I feel like you don’t want me to be sad. Like I’m not ALLOWED to be sad with you. Can you be with me, even if I’m not happy?”

“Of Course! Of course!” I replied. I desperately wanted this to NOT be true.

We were silent for a moment.

Sometimes the truth is like a knife to the gut.

She’s right. I was not allowing her to be sad.

My heart sank.

You see, I have very special relationships with many within Jade’s system. But Jade and my Sweetheart, well, they’re something on the next level for me. Sweetheart and I have been through a lot together and parallel with one another. I’d hurt her badly in the past. Her forgiveness is immensely strong and sweet. My own self-hatred can come like a torrent.

I desperately wanted her to be happy… I wanted to fix it, because I HAD NOT FORGIVEN MYSELF.

I sat with that for a moment, and I immediately resolved in myself that my pledge to be with her in whatever state, and her equal pledge of the same was tantamount to love.

______

The other day, Jade reminded me as I was in a strange state, that I deserve to not have to be calculated or *fix* myself for the sake of another.

She reminded me that I deserve someone to be by my side in whatever state I’m in. (outside of abuse, of course)

Ups…

Downs…

Body memories…

Nightmares…

You, the reader know of the darkness I’m alluding to. I’m grazing the surface of the dark dark realm of healing here. Each of you have your own stories. Whether mental abuse, torture, etc… we all have our share of the shit we have to sift through.

Your partner, or your best friend, they have their stories.

That person who reaches out to you to talk, they have a story.

We ALL WANT TO BE HEARD.

So, I urge you. Practice putting on your listening ears little ones. Practice the uncomfortable yet beautiful discipline of sitting silently in the darkness with your love.

Be present.

Receive it… believe it… touch… be still.

Cry with them.

Love.

 

 

Hey, Robert here…I’d like to be a little bit vulnerable here. We want to begin to slowly talk about relationships with those who are survivors, and those who do and do not have DID.

I’m sitting here at 6am. The house is quiet other than Jade’s critters.

She didn’t sleep well for various reasons. Normal life stuff.

Yesterday was probably one of the most normal days we’ve had since our relationship began. It was also probably one of my favorite days that we’ve ever had.

You see, I am a classic codependent. I come from relationships that were unintentionally abusive, both my mom and my ex. I was a mess. And you know what, I still am just a little bit.

Aren’t we all?

Aren’t we all just a little bit broken?

I never, ever expected to fall so deeply in love as I have with Jade. She amazes me each and every day.

My mind was finely tuned to ALWAYS feel as though I’m on trial, and though I’m in try outs, each and every day. That one slip up could RUIN the whole thing.

But Jade’s love is strong. When she makes up her mind and claims you, you’d better settle in, because now it’s the long haul.

That is something very healing.

Conversely, I also am intensely loyal.

We don’t throw my love around lightly.

And yet, day in and out, my body still has memories, just as Jade’s does. It gets afraid of being hurt again. My inside people, my system doesn’t yet know that it is truly safe here in the life we are building together.

Sometimes, when we’re apart, my mind can get very dark. Certain interactions over messenger can feel like torture to me. My mind races with it’s sometimes overactive and obsessive imagination. “Did that make her mad? Did I blow it this time? Ugh… that was such a dumb joke. WHY AM I LIKE THIS? I JUST WANT TO SEE HER FACE!!!!”

But I am learning that these are the cries of my little ones. They have found home, and they just don’t want to lose it. They long for a mother’s touch, a touch that isn’t for Jade to give. So, I go inside and care for them, wrap around them and give that to them. Then I can reemerge as a man, and enjoy this friendship.

I have to deal with, I have TO LOVE my insides so that I can enjoy the outside world. Not just Jade, but everyone.

so…

Yesterday, we simply existed together. We both worked. She on her new manuscript for DLO 3, I on my own work. We sat silently on the bed, plugging away. Now and again she would show me a funny meme. (Because obviously this helps us get work done… lol) Now and then I’ll tell her something I’m excited about.

There was space. Sacred space.

Last night we talked for a very long time. We like talking. I love LOVE to listen to her. I wish I could see inside her mind, to see her world… I want to know it all, as painful as some of it may be to see. I just want to see from her eyes sometimes.

But there was so much room for it all. So much space.

Something clicked yesterday, despite what my body feels at times, (and it gets less and less each day) this is special.

I’m something special. I get to meet ALL of Jade. Day after day, I get to know her and her inside people just a wee bit better. They’re beautiful and wonderful, and I am the lucky one that gets to be let in to that world. She picked me.

I’ve got to tell you, Jade is so special. She could pick ANYONE in my opinion. She’s clever, smart, a badass. She owns herself.

But… she picked me. This truth makes me feel very, very precious.

That revelation makes me sigh such deep relief. But then I realize that she should feel very special too. 

You see, I picked Jade. 

I didn’t have to.

I’m a complicated, ADHD, recovering codependent, by all rights broken individual. If I’m going to pick someone, they damn well better be special. They’d better be pretty amazing, understanding and patient. They’d better be full of magic because my world is WACKY with random. I’m a hyper planner, and though I’m co-conscious with all of my parts, when they take over (which I haven’t mastered the art of them doing this smoothly yet) my mood swings and differences CAN BE DRASTIC.

Who can drink from this cup?

Thing is, I’m NOT a problem. I’m just… me.

And I choose to join forces with Jade, and we just… fit. We have what I’m starting to look at as “complementary brokenness.” We’re broken in ways that we accept, own, and share. Ways that when combined serve to strengthen us as a whole. We own our weaknesses, and look each other in the eye not to fix, but to appreciate and revere each other.

So, that’s all well and good. But why on earth am I telling YOU all about this.

Go reread the title.

You, the tribe of Jade… I am in AWE OF HOW SACRED YOU ARE.

Don’t settle for anything but that complementary brokenness. Don’t settle for anything less than someone who looks at you as a sacred and holy being. You are full of wonder and are truly worthy of love.

I don’t know you all the way Jade does. But I know Jade. And she loves you so very much. She carries you in her heart.

Her fragments… her inside people, they show me light. You have the same light in you, and YOU are important… you matter.

I guess, in the end, I’m learning to look at myself in the mirror and realize just how special I am. In the past, I’ve been chronically vulnerable. I let too many people in, and it was a defense mechanism. If I can open a vein and control the way people would violate me, then I WAS THE ONE IN CONTROL. But nonetheless, I was still violated.

I had no self-worth.

If there’s anything I’m learning from Jade it is this:

YOU ARE SPECIAL.

You are precious.

Your story is sacred.

YOUR NAME is sacred.

Your inside people are sacred.

Your brokenness is holy.

You are sacred, dear one.

Own it.

So, I KNOW very well that I’m not Jade. But, she’s letting me hijack her blog a bit here while she’s…um… *not writing? She’s off being awesome, and I’m hoping the two of us will empower one another to write and create and dream. And you too!

So, I (Robert) will probably be posting bits and pieces of life here and there)

_____

Sometimes Jade and I will refer to one another’s various “super powers” admiringly.

For me, I’ve had to dig deep to recognize mine over the last few years. I’m extremely emotional and sensitive.

I was raised to have my senses finely tuned to every mood, emotion, and shift of my mother. I was responsible for it.

Of course, this is far too much for a mama’s boy to bear. No child should ever be held responsible for their parents moods, actions or otherwise. But, it is what it is.

It’s MY story, and I own it.

It gave me my powers… or at least, it did partially. Maybe it’s partially just who I am.

This sensitivity translated into intense religious experiences as well. I would be a prize member of a church due to my intense sensitivity to the other members. I would carry the responsibility and put the weight on my shoulders.

It was exhausting, but the reward was admiration, encouragement, words of praise and so forth. So, I kept going.

This intensity was also mocked at many stages. I cry easy. I hurt for people, and I can have very bad boundaries with taking on their pain when I am weak. I was called “big girl” and more throughout school. This was both due to my tendency to cry, as well as my overweight body, and large, floppy chest for a boy.

It hurt.

I wanted to be hard.

But it’s not who I am.

In the last few years, I’ve come to view myself as a sort of X-Men character. My powers could be wielded to create a co-dependent mess, a nightmare of neediness. Or… I can fine tune my skills to heal, pay attention, empathize and love.

I believe that this is the case with SO MANY of our “faults.” These are our gifting.

But I wanted to tell a story…

So, the other day I was furious. I had been treated poorly over an email, and I was at the dinner table writing a furious and emotional reply. It was the sort of triggering interaction that comes from, as well as invokes deep pain and panic.

Click click click! My keys were on fire.

Jade was moving around the kitchen, being very quiet. (god I love her) But, I was paying attention to her too, because, my superpower. I don’t miss a move. I’d already had this messed up interaction with this person over email, and now I didn’t want to blow it and make Jade pissed as well. That would suck.

So, I’m tuned in to her, and the email, trying to type the email but, then my mind goes, “Oh crap, what if she’s getting mad now too” and I start thinking about managing both at the same time. Ugh.

I was so hurt by what this person had written me, I was shaking. My inner 25 year old, a terrified, desperate man had taken over all function.

I know Jade saw this. I was holding back tears of pain, because it was from a long, hard relationship.

“Babe,” she finally speaks. “I know you’re not asking my opinion but…”

Her voice was gentle. I wanted her to read me a storybook.

She slowly moves toward me and I reach out for her, half scared, half seeking comfort. She laces her fingers in my hair and pulls my head against her. My very being softens to my core.

Safe.

She gave advice, and it was very sweet. I was in lizard brain, and she was outside looking in. She could see through the fog. She knew the way back to safety.

I listened.

I didn’t listen because she was right, I listened because she was kind. (and yeah, she was right)

You see, in the past, when I would fly into these intense frenzies, especially as a child, I was scorned, beaten, verbally berated and more. The terror would double. Not only was I already upset and terrified about something else, now, here I was being victimized by someone, typically a parent figure that I NEEDED to understand and help me.

I expect this. My body looks for the abuse and expects the rejection. I expect them to

But, I can’t help but see the parallels to how I treat my own fragments within. I feel that we typically will treat them the way we’ve been treated when we are in our default mode, the mode we’d been taught by parental figures and abusers.

But Jade modeled something beautiful here. She went inside and gently understood that THIS IS NOT WHO I AM NOR WHO I WANT TO BE. And loved it, stroked its hair and gently woke up the calm in me.

I am learning to do the same for my pain within, to listen, caress and care for that which is screaming in pain, rather than berating and hating it.

Treat each other with love… but first, treat yourself with love.

Thanks, Jade. I’m so glad that one of your superpowers is understanding and patience.

Hey guys. Today I have a very special guest writer with a guest post about fragmentation here on my blog. If you’ve read my recent newsletter then you know the significance of this man in my life. WINK WINK 

It’s an honor to be an up-close witness to his story.

–J8

 

Fragmentation on a More Common Level

Jade talks a lot about the need to normalize discussion of fragmentation and dissociation. It’s a precious thing, but I agree with her that fragmentation is far more common than a lot of people would like to admit. 

My name is Robert, and I do not have DID. I have, however, been through a lot of trauma, just like many of us have. 

A little over a year ago I started an inner journey with a therapist, embarking on 6 months of EMDR, and during that time began learning how to do my own inner child work, and inner healing. 

Like most common inner child therapy sessions, I was guided and instructed to go inside. There I found a version of myself. He was alone and scared, and needed a lot of comfort. I think this is a common theme among us, most can relate. 

I spent weeks nurturing and spending time holding this child. 

It did wonders for me. 

That little one I was loving on was my inner 8-year-old. That was a hard year, full of rejection. 

You see, I have built an inner world for myself to organize my thoughts and sort through my struggles, trauma and poor inner self-talk. To sort through my lack of self-love. 

I had moved the boy into my inner “safe-house.” He loved it there. I set up an art table for him. I gave him what he needed to be free, unafraid and just rest. 

For some time, I rode on the love I had given that boy. But then, a new trigger, a new event sent me spiraling into a PTSD frenzy. I couldn’t see straight. Something was wrong inside. I checked on the 8-year-old, but he was just fine. What on earth? 

So, I went hunting in my heart and mind. 

If there’s anything that I cling to, it’s this one bit of advice that my therapist taught me: Do not hate your fear and triggers. Thank them. They are a gift. Honor them. They have protected you when things were far from safe. They served a purpose. 

But this time, I went a little further. I talked to it. I asked it what it was and what purpose it needed.  

An 11 year old boy revealed himself. He was confused and crippled with fear, because people keep leaving. He has a name. 

Now there were two boys living in my mental home. I walk and talk with them. They need to be heard. 

Then, another event… now, I had a 17-year-old. He has no face, only smoke and flame. He blends in to whatever his accusers need in order to survive. He has a name, and he needs to be heard. 

Then I go through a divorce. I am on my own for the first time IN MY LIFE. I’m crippled with fear of screwing things up. Again, I go inside, and a 25-year-old reveals himself. Desperate to keep his wife and his ideal of a life. He’s desperate… he WILL make things happen, but he’s exhausted. He has a name, and he NEEDS to be heard. 

Fast forward to yesterday. 

Jade and I are working through some internal friction. I was struggling and spinning, and I wanted to just tel it to shut up and shut it down. My emotions are intense (always… just ask Jade) and I couldn’t find a way to just set it aside. 

I realize, it’s my 25 year old, and I decided to just let him take over and talk to a friend. Luckily for me, Jade doesn’t find this weird in the slightest. 

So, we sat there for a good half hour, talking, crying, and venting. He just wanted to be heard. 

It was cathartic and bittersweet. 

So many times our inner turmoil needs to be heard. It needs a friend. 

Often, it simply needs a hug. 

I’m getting less and less afraid to explore my own fragmentation. It’s amazing to me how our minds file things away and store joy, sorrow and trauma. There really seems to be a spectrum in all of this, and I’ve actually been amazed at how much I’m actually learning to use fragmentation as a tool. 

More than any of this, however, is the realization that often, pain needs to be heard. That empathy, both within ourselves as well as from without, saves lives.