Transcript: Episode 247
247. Emails in a Boat
Welcome to the System Speak podcast. If you would like to support our efforts at sharing our story, fighting stigma about Dissociative Identity Disorder, and educating the community and the world about trauma and dissociation, please go to our website at www.systemspeak.org, where there is a button for donations and you can offer a one time donation to support the podcast or become an ongoing subscriber. You can also support us on Patreon for early access to updates and what’s unfolding for us. Simply search for Emma Sunshaw on Patreon. We appreciate the support, the positive feedback, and you sharing our podcast with others. We are also super excited to announce the release of our new online community - a safe place for listeners to connect about the podcast. It feels like any other social media platform where you can share, respond, join groups, and even attend events with us, including the new monthly meetups that start this month. Go to our web page at www.systemspeak.org to join the community. We're excited to see you there.
[Short piano piece is played, lasting about 20 seconds]
[Note: The contents of emails being read in this episode are in italics.]
We have emails again today. But first I want to give a shout out to Heather, Mason and Arlene who says, “Thank you so much for all you are doing,” and Anne Marie who have been so supportive of the podcast and continued to help support us to keep it on the air. Thank you so much.
Gail also made a donation that was super helpful in keeping the podcast on the air and especially for the storing of the sound files, which are really large. And there's a lot of them now, guys. [Laugh] But thank you Gail for your support. Gail also said: Hi Emma and system. This is for you to use however you need. I also have DID and your podcast is helping me so much right now while I am in the hospital in a trauma and dissociation unit, trying to get things more settled. You are helping so many people. Thank you so much Gail.
We also wanted to thank Elyse, who bought books for survivors and donated to the podcast as well. And so we appreciate that and have shipped those out to people on the waitlist for books who are not able to get them, and we are so grateful for your support. Truly, I know I keep saying it, but because it means everything. And we are very, very grateful. Thank you so much Elyse.
And then Corinne also donated to the podcast through the book website. So thank you so much. You guys, again really, seriously, we could not do this without you. And we are truly grateful for your help and support, really.
Okay, for emails. Charity says: I do not even know where to begin. I just felt I needed to reach out. I have been listening to y’all’s journey for a few years and just finished If Tears Were Prayers. Oh, you read our book, thank you. I am completely in awe of your strength. I know this past year has brought many hard times and many big feelings. But I'm so proud of all of you for getting through it and continuing on. I don't have DID, but I do have CPTSD and a slew of other mental health issues, and your story and all the information you all provide is so helpful to me and my journey. I'm only 26, but I've now been in therapy for a few years and have come such a long way. Sometimes, often my past still affects my present, but I'm working through it. I just want you to know how very cared for, seen, heard, and I know connection is hard. But we, all the listener, we are here for you for healthy connections and support. I just wanted to let you know how good and kind and brave y'all are, even if at times it feels like a losing battle. I want to say so much more. But I will leave this here for now. Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for being you. Oh my goodness, Charity. That made me cry. And we'll definitely have to put that in our notebook to read again later when we need it. Thank you for the encouragement.
Another Elyse says: Your book arrived today and I'm so excited. I noticed that you had to pay a lot for shipping it and then mentions an international location. So I decided to make a donation to the podcast and to donate one book to a survivor. Oh my goodness, thank you so much. I am so appreciative of your brave podcast. I've learned so much from your openness and your guests. Thank you for choosing to create the podcast and continue with it. I'm a clinical counselor and I work mostly with clients who have a history with complex trauma. I've shared some episodes of your podcast with one of my clients and I know that it's been inspiring encouraging for her too. I also teach in an undergrad program, and I'm thankful for the resource that your podcast is for my students. As soon as your book arrived, I thought, I wish I had asked if I could pay more to have it signed. I'm not sure what your comfort level with that would be. [Laugh] That's amazing and very kind. This is getting long. So I just want to reiterate my thanks. Thank you so much for your support, Elyse, really.
Kim. Oh my goodness, Kim. Hiiiii. Kim is our friend from the podcast from the beginning. She's been on the podcast. She says: I have read the book. Or started reading the book. After 12 chapters, let me say how honored I am that y'all allowed me to be in your lives. My Love said, “Congratulations on your book. Kim is trying to help find us a good T like you had.” Oh my goodness, thank you. Be careful and take care of yourselves as you read it. But I love you guys. And thanks for checking in ladies.
I want to give another shout out to Kelsey. Kelsey has done transcriptions for the podcast. Like, five in the last week. She has worked so hard. Leon did some. And now there are several podcast transcripts up so we're getting there. You are helping make the podcast accessible, which to us as a deaf person, that is really, really important. And so we thank you, truly, and I just wanted to give one more shout out to Kelsey cause she has worked hard this week.
Melissa says: Your book is amazing. I'm reading it in bits and pieces as work this week has been intense. But I love your writer’s voice and the way you tell this story. It's beautiful and heartbreaking in its beauty and articulation. Thank you for writing this all down. I don't quite have the words to express my thanks for this. Too often our voices are not heard or are co-opted for the gains of others. It's truly awesome to hear your voice rising clear as a bell through all the other noise. Oh, Melissa, thank you for that encouragement. And thank you for that support. It really means a lot. And also I know Melissa, and Melissa is going to be coming on the podcast so I'm excited to hear her share with us.
D says: Hi Systemspeak. I've wanted to share this book title for the last several months as you've spoken about different experiences in therapy and with different therapists. The book is called In Session: The Bond Between Women and Their Therapist by Deborah Lott. It is dated, from 1999. However, it's written by a journalist. And while it covers many familiar topics to clinicians, the author's presentation of the material illuminate something about the experience of therapy often not talked about by anyone. The book was actually listened on the Tell website that you mentioned, and I found it helpful after the abandonment of my own treatment by my therapist. It seemed to help reduce the shame I've experienced and help me see reality differently. It's helpful to know that even people without dissociative conditions experience intense therapies. But also I wondered how many of the participants in the author survey actually had undiagnosed dissociative conditions. I’ve shared this title with a friend with DID and they found it extremely helpful as well. Do take care of yourself if you choose to read it. Wishing you the best. Oh my goodness, thanks for that resource. And we will order it and share what we think. Oh my goodness, I just looked it up on Amazon. And it says in paperback it's $21, and hardcover it's $896. [Laughter] I think we'll get the paperback, you guys. Okay, it says ordered. Okay. We’ll let you know if that book shows up and if we get it. But thanks for sharing.
Multi Mes says: There's language of healing and it is not always with words. It's the action part, the day to day part of survival. Personally, we have been systematically triggered when someone tells us that we are privileged. While that statement may be true, it did not come without work. I can totally understand that. As someone who absolutely, as a white body person, there is automatic privilege that comes with that in lots of ways. But also I understand what you're sharing about how it's been hard work. I didn't inherit anything for my parents. I left home at 17. I put myself through college and I have college payments that are more than the mortgage of my house. And then when I did get our house, which I was much later when I was able to do that, we had to sell it to pay for our daughter's care. And so, like there's so many assumptions that people make. So I can totally see that just in context. Even though also, generally speaking, I could go to the farmers market without incident and people would be kind and interact with me. Whereas when I took my daughter with me, they looked at her and someone spit on her. She would be at risk. And now that she's hit adolescence, she is like an almost 13 year old but in an adult body. And no one would stop to ask her if she was 13 or an adult if something went wrong, or if she had an encounter with the police. There's so many layers to it. There's so many layers to it. Looking at our own privilege is really important, but also acknowledging other people's trauma and not making assumptions about people is kind of the whole point. Right? Okay.
So they say: We are healing and have healed enough to state clearly and own what we are about to communicate. Oh, interesting. That's some good boundaries, right there. These people are my friend. And that's one of the things I love about them. They are able to clearly state what they want to communicate and own their stuff. The work of privilege is denial, as the work of denial is much as accepting our diagnosis. It is having to work. We are… Oh, well, they're talking about different kinds of privilege. It is having to work. We are our own safety net seven days a week, 65 plus hours a week for 18 plus years. That is a lot of days in a row. We had no choice being a single parent with no other parental help. We didn't receive child support consistently and he never came to see his kids at all. There were many days we went hungry so the kids could eat well. I don't need to tell you how the feelings of hunger is triggering. Yes, yes, I get ya. I hear you. I feel you. It's been a rough year. And it absolutely is a trigger from the past for sure. And it's again another time when like Now Time and Memory Time start to get tangled. Because it feels the same when it is the same, even if it's because of different circumstances, right? Like our body doesn't know the difference in circumstances. We survived that too. There were so so many hard days where just meeting the day meant having a Pollyanna was necessary. That part became our air, our children's health and well-being became our systemic commitment. I absolutely understand and respect that, guys. We also realize we don't fit in anywhere. Oh, that hurts my heart. In the mental health world where we have dedicated our life to working. Or the survivor community where that part of us who would go to distract and such was banned. Oh, sadness, you guys seriously. Those parts that are misunderstood in their demeanor and presentation from the very communities who theoretically should show some tolerance and grace. Ah, yes to that. A thousand yes to that. Hand clap emoji. Yes, yes, what she just said. The very community theoretically should show some tolerance and grace. She is vital in both our external and internal world and had navigated our life as we have expected her to do. Our external world is stable in her efforts. And now she is extending those skills inward. That's amazing. Systemically, it is terrifying, as she is our language of healing and all the actions that incorporate strength, hope, joy, acceptance, tolerance, and a whole bunch of etceteras. Wow, that's really, that's powerful. I know it will change her and thus change us. And my hope is what she has shown us all these years, what she has embodied and how we made and needed her to be is never forgotten. Healing can be positive. And she is a living breathing reminder of how and why. Healing absolutely can be positive. And when I talk about toxic positivity, I'm not talking about this kind of thing. I'm talking about when it's not authentic and doesn't let people feel these things. But you navigating doing both to feel what's hard, and also choose hope and joy and strength and acceptance, that is more powerful than anything. That is amazing. There is action in healing, both in the hard and in the play. The play part becomes the belief in ourselves that we can navigate the hard, survive it, and hopefully become a better version than those that attempted to strip us of the idea that we deserve good things, that there are good things out there to hold on to. That is such a good reminder about the goodness of life and how much there is to hold onto, and I'm so glad you shared that. Thank you.
Amanda says: I have been listening to your podcast for over a year and I have almost caught up. What? [Laughter] That's something intense listening you guys. That's, [laugh] there's so many episodes now. We're almost at 300 episodes. Or we are over 300 episodes as far as what's done. I'm not sure why I didn't think of this before, but I recently realized that I could catch up with your story by skipping the guest episodes and then go back and listen to them later. Okay, two things. First of all, that's cheating. And number two, a lot happens in the guest episodes, actually. And so I still promise it will make more sense if you listen to the episodes in order and don't skip them. But you're the one listening, so you can listen to what you want, when you want. But a lot happens in the interviews. Like, that's when we learn things and insights come. So don't miss out on that. That's so funny.
I have been hesitant to write to you but couldn't put my finger on why. I have so much to say. This podcast has meant so much to me in so many ways. You are amazing, truly. What you are giving to the world in terms of understanding trauma and dissociation is incredible. But what you are providing in terms of modeling and authenticity, that can't be taught, only experienced. Oh, that's very kind. You are inspiring and hopeful and real. It is only this week that I have found the words I needed to reach out to you. For a long time I thought my reluctance to engage with you here was because I was so far behind. That it would seem odd to write to you about something so far in your past. I wanted to catch up to the present before I reached out with everything I've stored up to say to you. Okay, so I get what you're saying. But also, that's impossible, really, because the podcast airs about six months to a year after what's happened. And so, for example, even the emails, which I leave spots for so that people can respond to things as they're listening. This is recording in April, but it's not going to air until June or July maybe? And so it's always behind. What you're listening to on the podcast, even if you're caught up to the most recent episode, is not actually what's happening in our life right now. Part of that's just for our own privacy. And part of it's for safety in therapy. Because what we're actually doing right now in therapy isn't really anyone's business. [Laughter] It's just a privacy thing. And that way we have enough safety to be able to be doing our own work in therapy. And so I understand the sentiment, and I understand what you mean, but also, because that's not real life. I mean, what we share is authentic and real. The sharing of it is. But I mean, it's not happening right now, by the time people hear it. And so that space just gives us space and time to be caring for ourselves and have that safety that we need to actually process things well and safely, really. So, so you won't ever really catch up because there's a time delay between what's happening in real life—as in meaning Now Time, today, this present moment—and what was authentic sharing that we recorded when it was happening, but was really for us months and months and months or longer ago. And so I hope that makes sense. Even the clinical interviews. It's April right now. And the podcast that is going up the next Monday from now was recorded last July. So almost how many July, August, September, October, November, December, January, February, March, April, so almost 10 months ago, nine months ago. And the podcast that is going to air I know one in November, was recorded a whole year ago from now. And so it'll be a year and a half since it's been recorded once it airs in November. So that's, there's, the timeline, even though what we share of our own stuff kind of happens in order, the timeline of the podcast doesn’t match the timeline of our life right now, currently. So I hope that makes sense. But that is protective for us and appropriate and part of why we're able to do the podcast the way we are. I hope that makes sense.
Amanda says: I wish that I could weave my words into a blanket. A beautiful tapestry that you could crawl under when the vulnerability of this endeavor threatens to overwhelm you. That's so sweet. I can barely imagine how hard it is to come back here and keep going. But I want you to know it is worth it. It is worth it for all of us who listen, who find ourselves in your words, and who use your words to become better at caring for those around us. But also it is worth it for you. I am so proud of the progress you have made, faltering as it may feel at times. You are like a magical butterfly, one that continuously changes to become more and more beautiful. Over and over you disappear into a chrysalis for a short while, then emerge as a new creature with more understanding, more insight, more fully you. Your wings flap, hesitant at first, but then more powerfully, and we watch or listen in awe as you rise up out of your pain and into your glorious self. It is magical to behold. Oh, wow, that's amazing. Thank you so much. That's very kind. That's very kind.
But in listening to some of the episodes I just recently finished, I realized that it is not the lagging time that has kept me from writing. I am my own butterfly in the making. Building my own chrysalis. And you are helping me spin the silk. You are helping me weave my own tapestry blanket. Making sense of my experience as a young caterpillar, alone and hungry. chewing through leaves as I strove to avoid the beady eyes of predators waiting to gobble me up. You are my safety. Oh, wow. And you have taught me that safety matters, connection matters. And I want to honor that. I want to honor the work we have both done for me to learn that I matter. That the world doesn't rest on my fragile wings. That sometimes it is okay to rest in the palm of someone's hand. But while I rest in your hand, I cannot hold you up. I cannot fear being crushed by the sudden closing of your hand. I cannot help you spin your own chrysalis. But I can watch you spin your chrysalis, and I can learn from the beauty of your spinning. I can listen to your words, and the words of those you share, and let them influence my own. I can build myself a more beautiful chrysalis for knowing you. Oh, wow. That's powerful. There's so many layers to that. I like that it reflects the mutuality of relationships and connections, how there's a taking turns to it, and how there is an understanding that both people need to keep doing that process and how it cycles, all of that. It's just really beautiful.
I do not know what has happened to you this year that has made it so incredibly difficult. Well, you know why? Because that's all in the interviews. [Laughter] I'm just kidding. I'm just kidding. Oh my goodness. That's so funny. Okay, sorry.
The part of you I know does not share in those ways. But I can be here as a witness silently cheering you on, waiting for a time when I no longer need the safety of your hand. When I can stretch my wings and fly beside you, or crouch beneath a leaf with you, waiting for a storm to pass. Waiting for a time when I can be all of me with all of you without the fear of my fragile wings scraping yours. And then when I can fly alone, I will alight near you, and tell you who I am, and listen to you, to whatever you tell me, to whatever stories you choose to share. Well, we don't share. That's the hard part. Right? That's the hard part. Oh my goodness. That's intense. And I will choose you, and give you a chance to choose me back. Because I believe I have threads to offer you too. But then if you do not choose me back, I will be okay. I will know that I am forever changed for having known you, all of you, and I will fly higher having alighted from your hand. And I will watch you soar and falter and soar again and transpire beauty even if I am not to share in its flight. Wow, that's really lovely and give such an image. It's so empowering. For now nestled in the safety of your hand, I cannot risk flying and sheltering at once. I must build my chrysalis and focus on my needs so that I can emerge ready to fly, ready to hold myself separate, and ready to offer you the attunement you deserve. But I wanted you to know that I am here. I'm here watching, listening, learning and loving. I am here supporting, wishing, wondering and waiting. I wish that I could be more for you now because connection matters and you deserve it. But I will honor all you've taught me and wait. Wait for safety for both of us. I actually respect that a lot. Like, this is very poetic what she's sharing. Super intense and very poetic.
But that's part of what makes connection so difficult, right? So even when it's good, it's actually really hard to tolerate, and really hard to learn to receive and to accept. So it just does not come naturally in some ways, or easily, to survivors of trauma. Especially when there are such wounds there in the relational trauma arena specifically. Does that make sense? I feel like that's a big piece of what we've learned. Like, our brain literally cannot do it. There are hopes that our brain can learn to do it. But that's not always the case. And there's some level of healing that comes with accepting where we are, and being able to learn to be comfortable with ourselves as we are. And that's kind of a big deal. So being able to say, “wow, this is really good, but also really intense, which is not a bad thing, just more intimacy than what we know how to process or more than we can accept all at once.” That's such a common thing for survivors. And that piece is even the scary part, the waiting. And I think that's part of what was so hard last year is we waited and waited and nothing happened. And it was just the empty rooms again, right. Like, we talked about that with Kelly McDaniel when she came back on to talk about the Mother Hunger book that's coming out this summer, and how so much of what matters in relationship is the responsiveness and that mutuality. And so that's really, really healthy stuff that she's sharing here. That's really, really powerful stuff. And I think those kinds of things is what has helped us make friends with Peter. It's what's helped us make friends with with other therapists who have DID, and colleagues at ISSTD, and Jamie, who we met first at Healing Together conference, with the dancing mindfulness. These kinds of layers of letting be, but also expressing, and also connecting. And it being that rhythm to it. It's very women-who-run-with-the-wolves. It's very, like, it's very what Kelly McDaniel says is both the connection and the safety. You have to have both. And I think that that is what has been a huge piece for us, and what we learned last year when it was so awful and so difficult. We have in the past had connection, but not safety. And, and then last year what we were grieving was the loss of safety, but we didn't have connection. And it felt like we should, because we thought safety was being added to that. But when that wasn't there, then what we learned was that we really need both. And so make sure that you listen to that. If you're going to listen to an interview, when you're ready to listen to interviews, make sure you listen to the Kelly McDaniel episode, the second one. We've talked to her again because her book is coming out. And we talked about this piece about how you need both connection and safety. So thank you for sharing that.
She says: I will listen to my intuition and honor the wishes of the part of you I know. I stay away until I can offer you something worth choosing back. When I can listen openly to what you need without it threatening my own hard earned safety. When I can tell you frankly what I need without fearing being dropped on to the hard ground below. That is such a beautiful description of that experience. It's so true. That that's part of the safety. We always say like it feels like being spilled out. Like if you pour yourself into another cup, like, you don't want them to spill you out. And like be careful so that we don't spill. And I feel like last year we got spilled and it was really, really difficult. And that's what we were going through. Since you asked like we we got spilt, we got knocked over, and spilt everywhere. And it was a disaster and it was awful. And there were so many tears. And it was very, very difficult because we lost both connection and safety. And that felt like betrayal. So absolutely. This is terrifying. I get it. What beautiful words to share it.
Because it would break my heart if my fragile wings battered yours in any way and it would set me back if you flinched before I was ready. I'm a pretty big flincher. So my friends, you guys, when I say that I finally made friends this year, you need to remember they're all like 1000 miles away and we zoom. Like if we ever make it through this pandemic. Like already people are talking post-pandemic and I'm like, “we are not post-pandemic yet.” [Laughter] But if we make it through the pandemic—when we make it through the pandemic—and like is zoom going away or can we keep that? Because we have built a life in a way we have never been able to build a life before. And if everyone is just gonna go back to real life and get off zoom, and that's not a thing anymore and we lose that connection, then we are basically just hanging out with the chickens because we just can't do people in real life. I don't know. We'll see. Okay, more therapy.
Anyway, they said: In the meantime, I will offer you a poem. A poem that refused to stay silent, that fought to the surface and will not go away. A poem from my heart to yours. May it hold open a space for me to alight someday, when I can offer you more fully what you need. Thank you for everything. Oh, that's lovely. Oh, there is a poem. Okay. That was very kind of her to share a poem on the podcast.
I wish I had a boat. My heart breaks for you, for your circles, for your littles, for the others kept from this world, hold up on their island. I wish I had a boat. A boat like the one you offered to me when my seas were tossed and stormy. A boat that you could safely carry you to visit with a promise to return. I wish I had a boat. A boat that could carry me in a way that calm the seas, that spoke with the soft lapping waters of a still lake at dawn. I wish I had a boat. A boat that you could command so that you would never fear my approach on a day when you weren't ready. I wish I had a boat. A boat that could carry me to you, to your island. A boat that can navigate the waves that separate your circles and land gently on your shores. I wish I had a boat. A boat with magic boxes, one for each of you to carry comforts to your island. Nachos in one, art supplies in another, tools for tree houses, a meaningful pen just for you, and a pile of spoons for anyone who needs one. I wish I had a boat so that on days when you are ready, feeling brave or wanting care, I could cross the lake at dawn to sit with you quietly, watching the mist rise over the lake, gentle waves lapping by our feet. We could sit side by side in silence. A loon crying in the distance, her mournful wail the only sound echoing through the silent mist. Or you could sit alone. The wind in the trees a melody over the gentle lapping of the waves on a rocky shore. I could be there as a witness to your solitude, or just to bring you a cup of peppermint tea. The steam rising to mirror the mist rising off the lake. And when the sun rose high in the sky, we could walk in the woods, kicking leaves and finding perfect stones to skip over the unbroken surface of the lake. We could color or paint. The trees, the water, a chipmunk perched on the ledge of a fallen log. We could build a tree house with fairy lights and warm blankets, and a tiny library that never runs out of books. We could lie on puffy pillows, reading, or finding pictures in the clouds. And as the sun dipped low in the sky, we could light a campfire. Small and enclosed, a circle of stones keeping the flames contained, but letting the warmth pull the chill from the air. You could tell me stories so I would learn how to make a more perfect day for all of you. As the flames dwindled, leaving only glowing embers, we could roast marshmallows to a crisp golden brown with soft sweet centers, and watch fireflies flicker just beyond the clearings edge. When the stars began to twinkle, I would tuck the littles into bed, and climb into my boat with promises to visit again, when you were ready. On stormy days, I could go down to the shore and look across the water and wave. So you would know you were safe and loved and not alone, even if you weren't ready to share your island. On those days, I could seek you out on this side, in this circle, and tell you how proud I am of you, of all of you, for surviving, for sharing, for climbing into your own boat and crossing over to this side. I would speak of gratitude for you and all of your myriad parts, each with a story to share, each with a different way to touch my heart. Gratitude for putting me in a boat and pointing me to shore, for being there in the boat as a constant presence, for holding me in the storms, for steadying the boat to keep it from capsizing, for showing me how to bail in the rain, and how to wrap myself in blankets because it's my job to keep myself safe. Gratitude for tucking my hair behind my ears so you could see my eyes if only I would look at you, for teaching me to look, to find love reflected in your face, in your words, a cheeky smile on your lips, a warm blanket in your arms, for teaching me that I am me, all of me. And on the days when you wouldn't open the door, I would leave you a note, a flower, a peppermint candy, a bowl of soup, so you would know I'd been there. I would not be alarmed or upset or angry. I would know you needed space, space to be you, to rock in your hammock, to relish the silence, to play with your children, to go down to the lake and wave across the circles to those you've not forgotten. But even on those days, on the days you needed space, I would want you to know you too are not forgotten. You are loved and cherished and chosen.
That was beautiful poetry. Thank you so much for sharing. That will take some reflection and I'm so glad that you shared it so that everyone could listen, and that we will be able to reflect on that. And I think that so beautifully expresses both connection and safety. And thank you for sharing. That's beautiful writing. It's beautiful. And they feel like words we have needed for a long time. You guys, really, the truth is they keep us going too, not just the podcast.
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Thank you for listening. Your support really helps us feel less alone while we sort through all of this and learn together. Maybe it will help you in some ways too. You can connect with us on Patreon. And join us for free in our new online community by going to our website at www.systemspeak.org. If there's anything we've learned in the last four years of this podcast, it's that connection brings healing. We look forward to connecting with you.