Transcript: Episode 204
204. This Is Me
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[Short piano piece is played, lasting about 20 seconds]
[Sounds of running water throughout]
Okay, so I have to apologize up front for any background noise. We're at the park for the first time since the pandemic started. Because while everyone else who went back to school, who got to return to classrooms, who get a break from their children for hours every single day, they are all back in school. And so it is the first time we've been able to come to the park, and our kids play in the splashpad because no one else is here. And I was like don't touch anything. [Laughter] So, we are at the park with the splash pad. And this is literally the only chance I've gotten.
But do you remember our friend who is the doctor that is learning about trauma? And she was on the podcast? She sent us a box and I wanted to open it. So how fun is that?
[Sounds of box opening] Okay, so the first thing is that every one of our outside kids got a letter and some t-shirts. So that was super sweet. Thank you. Oh, my goodness. And back to school pencils. How nice is that? Oh, this is brilliant. She sent us a packet of facts and activities from where they live, with pencils to do like for home school. That was so sweet. How fun is that? Social studies that comes with some shirts. I love it.
[Rustling] And then, oh my goodness, let me tell you. Do you know what else was in this box? New notebooks with circles. New notebooks and new pens to write with. And I'm totally crying because we have not gotten new notebooks or pens or written in them since October. So it's been almost a year since we lost that whole aspect of our healing journey. And I need to stop saying “lost” because really, it was transformed into something else. But this piece we have missed. And this piece would be good for us. And this piece, it's time to come back to. And so I think it's really important. And that could not have been more perfect timing. I can't even tell you. Thank you so much. Because I feel like we are really ready to shift from mourning that to honoring the transformation of it.
So this is really an emotional moment. I think that it's not something that we could have done on our own. But I absolutely feel like it's a prompting for us from our faith perspective, like a significant and special thing that these came in the mail. I had no idea that's what was in the box. But I'm really glad we opened it because it’s time and we need to start writing again. Even if I just do it with my capital S self, even if that's all that comes out.
I feel like it comes with a lot of changes actually. Almost like not rules. I don't mean rules in the strict sense or making my life harder. Or trying to be overly confined myself. I mean rules as in changing how I live and understanding differently than Memory Time how the world works. Because in Now Time, where things are safe, people—most people—are generally good. And I could even say we've learned that we have something to offer the world. And if we have learned that connection is what brings healing, then all of these pieces are significant, and it changes everything about how we interact in the world, and how we move around within the world.
So really, everything changes. But some things that I need to understand, that are just part of a different worldview, that is about the capital S, instead of only trauma, but also without ignoring the trauma. Because it's not fair to dismiss it or to pretend it's not part of the story. We have to do both.
So number one would be trusting my intuition. It is okay to recognize who is toxic for me, who is not responsive to me, who is not actually helpful in my life. It's okay for me to notice those things, to recognize those things, and make changes because of those things. But it does not make those people evil. And it does not make me bad for recognizing those things. So other people can have limitations and challenges just like I do. Someone else can have issues that makes it hard for them to connect in the ways that I need them to, in the same way that I have challenges that makes it hard for me to connect in ways that they need. So I can have compassion for their limited capacities in the same way I need them to respect mine. And shame does not even have to be involved.
I am talking about friendships and relationships that are generally healthy, and generally good for us, but are difficult work because we're human. I am not talking about something that's actually abusive, or when you're in danger. There's a difference. But when it is a healthy relationship, or a healthy connection, we can adjust our expectations and adapt in healthy ways. For example, I can send an encouraging note to support a friend who is good and kind, while at the same time adjusting my expectations to understand that they are not a person who is responsive towards me, or a place that I need to depend on for my own support. So I can encourage them and appreciate the good that they are in the world without giving pieces of myself away and then being crushed and feeling destroyed when those pieces are not attended to. Does that make sense? I can recognize where I can safely share pieces, and those pieces of me still be tended to. And I can focus my energy and time on nurturing those relationships, and being fully present in those relationships, instead of neglecting them because I'm trying so hard with other people who aren't actually going to be there for me.
I can honor my own limitations instead of trying to do what I can't do or be who I am not. Like, for example, it’s just a simple example. I cannot leave quarantine, because I have to keep my daughter alive. And in the current context that trumps everything because it is a physical safety issue. But even without the pandemic, I'm not a girl who needs lunches. That's not necessarily meaningful to me. In fact, it's actually really hard for me, because I can't hear in public places. I'm super anxious in public places. And I use so many spoons just a function in that environment that I don't have much to give someone else, and I am not capable of receiving from someone else. So that's not the kind of friend I need. And it's not the kind of friendship I need.
In another example, I can also leave room for growth and change in understanding myself. I am not the same person I was a week ago, or a year ago, much less three years ago, or 20 or 40 years ago. When I had cancer, I could no longer run every day. But now I'm well and I'm strong enough to work my own land. When I was young, I experienced a lot of betrayals. But now I'm old enough and wise enough to choose my friends—and my therapists—differently, and care for myself differently as relationships unfold. Or, like, when I did not understand or even believed DID was a thing, it made me very anxious and confused and I felt crazy in the worst sense of the word. But now, understanding what's going on and having access to help with it and making progress and how I manage it, even though I can't make it go away, it just is a part of my health history as much as my son who has cerebral palsy, or my own cochlear implants.
Another example would be, I can learn that I can work hard enough to provide for my family, while also being good about taking breaks to care for myself. And, I would like to add to that, that I can do that kind of self-care—I do not mean self-indulgence—but I can do that kind of self-care that my body and my brain require for me to be healthy and strong preventatively. I don't have to wait until there's a crisis and then be like, “Oh, yeah. I need to take better care of myself.” I can do that consistently. I can make changes in my life so that my life slows down and matches the pace that I need. I can live in a place where I have this space that I need. I can arrange my life and use my resources, even if I have to work very, very hard for them myself. I can make the changes that I need to create a happy life for myself that looks much more consistent with what I want, with what my internal world is like, with what makes me comfortable and feels safe in ways that help us function as a family externally, in ways that make me happy and comfortable and relaxed and at peace, and congruent with who I am as a person. I have the power to do that.
Number three. I can have grace and compassion for other people and myself. We are all human. We are all learning. I make mistakes. Other people make mistakes. These things aren't always malicious or dangerous. Sometimes it's just humans being human.
I would never scream at a toddler learning how to walk just because they kept falling down. And the toddler doesn't quit trying. The toddler keeps standing up again over and over, and other people naturally cheer them on. But they also soothe them when the fall hurts or scares them. And I think that's the difference that we were trying to talk about earlier on the podcast between positivity that can be healthy, the cheering on, and positivity that can be fake when you are cheering everyone on, so it becomes about you being a cheer-er and not about the kind of cheer I need. Or toxic positivity, which has to do with shaming me for falling in the first place, and telling me I need to walk while I'm still down hurting.
The same thing applies for myself. Like recognizing what a child I still was when I ran away from home. Or how bad the relationships I endured were before finding the husband, but also how they were exactly what led me to him as I ruled out one nasty trait after another. Or how I'm a nicer mom if I also take breaks from my work, focusing on being present with them instead of what we should get done, and spend more time snuggling with them than fussing at them. Or when I'm in a meeting with a group of people who get DID, and I try to be vulnerable and see a flash of judgment across someone's face, I can recognize that I have choices in that moment either to assume that the person is bad and unsafe, and I should never go to those meetings again, or to receive the feedback that my comment did not land well in that context with those particular people, and next time reserve it for a safer friend after the meeting is over.
When I am in a group of friends who understand what it's like to be me, they have trauma in their past and they have dead parents too, and they have husbands who struggled to survive much less participate in everyday life, and they have to be serious about quarantine because of high risk family. In that context, I can relax even more. I don't have to defend myself. I don't have to keep walls up. I don't have to pretend. But also, I don't have to spill out everywhere. When I need to share a piece, they can help me hold on to my capital S self, while that part of me shares or exists or is present, but they still love me even when my capital S gets mushier or squashier than I would like. And knowing that helps me get better at it, be better at being me, be better at letting parts of me be me, too. Because really, it's my responsibility to hold myself together.
But even that is different than losing myself altogether, or my selves altogether. Or only one part of me being demanded or present. Or keeping the wall so high that I'm not even really there. This is better. Being able to be all of me when I want to be who I am. There's so much freedom in getting to be just me. Whatever that means, and whoever I am, as a work in progress, just like every other human.
Number four. Trust my system. This one is still harder for me, but we are here for a reason. And if someone slips out, there is reason. And if someone is close to the surface, there is a reason. Instead of panicking about that, or being ashamed of that, I can just ask questions about it. I can be curious. I can notice patterns. I can ask why.
If my system is protecting me or defending me, what is it that feels dangerous? Is that accurate? Is that from Memory Time or Now Time? Is something in Now Time feeling unsafe or uncertain? If so, is that because of something happening now or something that happened in the past? Trust it. Find out what's going on and trust it.
If my system is presenting someone little, what purpose does that serve? What care is needed? What would be comforting? What is being neglected or out of balance that needs attending to? What have I myself been ignoring? What self-care do I need? I am capable and have the power to care well for myself.
If someone is acting out, what is it that they are telling me through behaviors? What pain needs to be acknowledged instead of being dismissed? What intuitive information did I notice back in rule one or two or three that I skipped over and need to go back to, or pay attention to, or do something about?
If someone is working too much or playing too much, why is that? What's out of balance? What can I do about it intentionally instead of reactively? Do I need to just stop and take time to get myself together so that I can function? Or do I need to just take a day off even for no reason besides mental health? I even give our outside kids one mental health day a semester where they can skip school and do whatever they want to do in an all-day one-on-one date with us. Why can't I offer the same thing to myself?
If I'm feeling alone, who is it I can do the work of connecting with and reach out to instead of staying alone feeling rejected? If I'm feeling helpless, who can I serve and empower myself to make changes in their lives and my own?
It all means something and gives us clues for what we need and what we can do about it. I have the power to care well for myself and those around me. And I think that that makes all the difference in the world. Even when doing hard things like phase two memory work. Even when we so often have to go back to phase one of safety and stabilization. Even when we struggle enough that we have to reorient ourselves or get grounded again, or feel like we are so very weak because it feels so very hard. But in those moments, when we keep trying, that's when we're the strongest. In those moments when we don't give up, that's when they don't win. In those moments when none of it makes sense, and we stand our ground anyway.
[Piano and cello duet of This is Me.]
[Break]
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.