Enlightened Choices Newsletter for Women's Trauma Issues - From WIIT - The Women's Institute for Incorporation Therapy - Offering women's treatment programs for acute symptoms of psychological trauma including depression, bipolar, borderline personality, child abuse, sex abuse, trauma, survivor, dissociative disorder, PTSD, multiple personality, D.I.D., ritual abuse, incest and other trauma issues.

Stage 2: Processing

Crisis is a natural part of the healing process. As you continue to process the past information and utilize it to continue your growth process you will experience fear, self doubt, and crisis. It's part of change and necessary for experiencing new outcomes in your life. So you cannot expect to move through life without encountering crisis times in your life. Learning to deal effectively and efficiently with those times is the key to decreasing the impact that crisis has on your life.

In part 1 you began the steps in coping with crisis by putting in place several things. You identified four lists with options for taking control of the crisis in a quick and effective way. I hope you are utilizing these lists, not only for the major crisis, but also for the small, everyday crisis involved in living.

After you have successfully dealt with the crisis situation, it is time to begin to process the experience. The information obtained about the past, about how you handled it both in the past and in the present, the steps leading up to the situation, early warning signs that you may not have noticed, and what you are going to do with the experience.

Three questions are important to the processing stage.

    1) What did you do?
    2) How is this useful now?
    3) What are you going to do with this now?

These questions set the stage for gaining positive experiences from crisis situations.

What did you do? What is the information you are receiving? Did you do what you could at the time considering age, situation, experience? As you process past information remember the situation and especially remember the age you were. This information is essential to the acceptance and forgiveness of self in the present.

How is this information useful to you now? There is usually knowledge that is applicable to events currently taking place in your life, contained in this past information. Skills you have always had but don't recognize as important and useful today become accessible to your growth.

What are you going to do with this information? You continue to have options as to how to deal with the past in the present. You can not utilize the information and continue to push it aside, but this may be harder to do as you gain a clearer understanding of it. But you may also use as much as you can to apply to your present life. Utilizing the information to increase your problem solving skills, utilizing the strength to increase your growth and determination, and utilizing the behaviors to make changes in your behaviors and responses to events in the present.

By making the past information the foundation for changes in your growth process you are more able to make plans and make preparations to carry out those plans. With practice, adjustment, and more practice, processing the current situations and events as they apply to the overall plan, you will be more able to finally prevent a reoccurrence of the abusive situations in the present. By using the information given to you through flashbacks, memories, nightmares, dreams, etc. to create new thought, feeling and behavior patterns, you are able to continue to grow, to balance mind, body, and spirit, and to take back all aspects of your life.

"They Say I Must Leave You:"
The Relationship Effect Between Addiction and Psychological Trauma

"I use because I am bad. I am bad, therefore I use." Individuals, who have survived psychological trauma and are also addicted, commonly express that statement. The basic issue of psychological trauma stems from a relationship gone bad. That first bad relationship involved issues of trust, betrayal and pain. Every relationship after that was an attempt to rectify the original broken relationship.

The survivor's first introduction to addiction was a successful bonding episode. The alliance between the survivor's ability to dissociate and the addiction distanced the pain and subdued the survivor's hurtful feelings. The relationship grew and control remained in the hands of the survivor. The addiction was viewed as an ally, a companion and a friend. Human values, qualities and characteristics, were assigned to the addiction. A false sense of security grew as well. Then the relationship turned sour. Their partner (the addiction) now became cunning, baffling, devious and unpredictable. Power and control shifted out of their hands as it had in every relationship they had been involved in. No matter how damaging the relationship became, it remained the barrier that covered the ugliness that lurked below. Fighting the battle against the pain without their addiction may not be a risk they are willing to take.

The process of sobriety with this dually diagnosed population should be compassionately viewed as "a loss of a relationship." This process mirrors the dynamics of a divorce. The loyalties to the addiction may be so entrenched that reconciliation might be inevitable.

The severity and frequency of the psychological trauma, combined with the effectiveness and length of use, determine the degree and intensity of the survivor's loyalty to their friend (the addiction). From a psychological standpoint, betrayal of their addiction may only validate "how bad the survivor is as a friend." They may let go of their sobriety just to remain "good and loyal."

Mother, where were you?
Forever, just out of reach.
Now, Plot 4, planted.

Andy, one I loved
taken away, now at rest,
I release my pain.

Happy - having joy
Content - life in the present
Sad - loss, grief, hurt, pain

Dangerous treason,
one of many, in conflict
with the plan - Love Her

All my selves confused.
Meeting in the dome, success.
All's right with our world.

"...you are not a victim. You have been the object of a conspiracy, and the conspiracy has failed."

James Baldwin,
Just Above My Head (p.508)

To my fellow courageous survivors:

I feel compelled to write this letter to you in the hope that none will make the same mistakes I made after leaving the WIIT program.

I was discharged approximately one year ago. After leaving the unit I promptly ignored everything that had been taught to me. Within 24 hours of discharge the AV's were screaming at me (like I had been warned they would). Within 48 hours I had sweet-talked my doctor into prescriptions for Klonopin and Valium. I did not say my positive affirmations (I was a psychology major, I didn't need them!). I arrogantly refused to write a self-concept or to journal. To make matters even worse, I ignored my alternate personalities after promising them that I would never do that again. A MULTIPLE WORKS AS A TEAM, OR A MULTIPLE DOESN'T WORK!!!

In December, I "crashed." One night the tranquilizers were not able to mask the feelings any longer. I had wasted months, thinking I was keeping myself safe. Now I know safety only comes from facing your worst nightmares. In January I began saying my affirmations and doing all the other work. Life is beginning to get better, yet because of my arrogance I have made the road a lot tougher for myself. I am virtually training myself how to LIVE. Before, I merely existed. It is scary, (and that's an understatement), but it is worth it.

I am not wasting my time in regrets. The abusers would love that, wouldn't they? By the grace of God, I am picking myself up and going on the road to recovery.

Trust me. The nightmares, flashbacks, multiplicity, etc. have to be faced sometime. Be wiser than me. Follow the WIIT program from the start.

My sincere prayers are with you all,

"Someone who's been there"

On Sunday, April 20, New Jersey observed "Crime Victims Rights Week" by having towns and cities across the state ring their bells at 2 pm in honor and memory of victims of crimes. I'd say it ran along the lines of having a moment of silence, but for me, the experience was much more powerful than any moment of silence I've ever observed.

Since no one in the little town of Pedricktown volunteered to ring the bell located in Hudson United Methodist Church, the church next door, I cheerfully volunteered.

I've lived next door to the church for 2 years, but never had the honor (or thrill) of pulling that old rope. A rope which connected me with the bell high above in the bell tower and it's calling of all to unite in hope that unity, connectedness and love might heal the victims of our societies hatred, confusion and fear.

At 2 pm I pulled that old rope with all my might and the bell rang out loud and clear. I was suddenly aware of being filled with visions of the many courageous victims turned survivors I'd met through 5 inpatient stays at WIIT. Each ring of that bell became a memory of the horrors they had survived and a prayer that faith, courage and determination would lead each to overcome obstacles that arose out of the trauma.

Just as I finished, my sister appeared with a questioning look on her face. "I thought you'd never stop ringing that bell," she said. I smiled as I walked from the church and replied, "I had to make sure I remembered each and every one."

The light shown
The spirit has grown
She is in touch
But doesn't always visualize the essence of her beauty.

The essence is a lyrical, spherical sound of music from within.
If we could live an octave above,
We would see the core of Love
And doubt would be a non-entity

Being of light we are
There is no need to fight
Let the rhythms roll through
And you will find you!

First, I want to thank all of you for your tremendous response to my plea for articles, poems, drawings, etc. for the newsletter. It's been great. BUT, (there always has to be a but doesn't there?) please, don't stop. I have a lot of things that will not make it into the newsletter in this issue, but they will later.

I am beginning to realize the difficult decisions that go along with being the editor. I finally have enough material that I have to pick and choose which is going to go in this issue of the newsletter. Some is chosen because it fits neatly into an available spot, others because it really spoke to me and some because it is appropriate for now.

The other dilemma I've been faced with concerns material that is not completely complimentary to the WIIT program. I've given this a lot of thought and have even spoken to the power's at be at WIIT about it, they obviously told me to be honest. Of course, my first reaction was that no one could ever say anything negative about the program that helped me regain my life, but after I got several notes concerning the same issue I decided that it needed to be addressed. It's been a hard decision about what to publish, and I will be honest, I almost just tossed them and let the issue go but I want this to be a safe place for all of us to express our true feelings and negative feelings are true feelings. I hope this does not offend anyone, professionals or clients, but one of the lessons I have learned since WIIT is that feelings need to be felt and expressed.

I have another important issue to address around this same topic. I have received a few "notes" that I would never subject any of you to. Unfortunately, the authors of these "notes" were not courageous enough to sign their names to them. I think that says volumes. I value anonymity for all of us so that we can feel free to express our true feelings without fear. I have always honored those requests and will continue to do so. My request is that no one send me abusive, vulgar, sadistic tirades I am just one of you all and I get triggered just like everyone else. I am not WIIT. I do not work for them and I am not connected to the hospital, except as a former patient. I have my own issues that I continue to deal with and don't need anyone else adding any more. I have gone to great lengths to make my environment safe and now I find myself hesitant to open my mailbox. I will not allow this to happen.

I truly enjoy putting together the newsletter and feel honored that I have been entrusted with the wonderful parts of yourselves that you want to share. I also want to mention quickly that for all of you who feel abandoned by WIIT: 1) As Diane would say - you can't be abandoned because you're an adult.

2) If you had truly been left behind and discarded by WIIT, as so many people have written to me saying, you would no longer be receiving this newsletter, since WIIT pays for the publishing and mailing of it out of their own pockets. They're doing what is within their power to keep you connected and let you know that you are not alone. We're all out here and we care. (And as one of my little ones just said - When you put us all together there's a whole bunch of us too!)

I'm not sure of tomorrow
because I can't understand today
and yesterday is beyond belief -
a blur of unreality in existence.
Everything is running together -
Acceptance, Rejection, Judgment,
Shame, Blame, even misplaced guilt(?)
I feel sad (hurt) inside that I don't know
how to share (understand?) this marriage -
togetherness-feminine sexuality(?)
Even though he doesn't really understand my coldness
and rejection - I can see the shine of acceptance and approval,
no matter what-in his caring-trying to understand-eyes,
constantly telling me,
although he may not like everyone of my alters,
he will always love me.
But the shine in his eyes turns to darkness when some appear.
Is this the same thing as rejection and hurt?
Who is the true victim here?
One who has gone through the past
or the one who is trying desperately to adjust to my present?

I was so alone, dying inside
Barely Alive.
In desperation, against all I learned
I reached out my hand.
I opened my heart.
I exposed myself.
I decided to trust.
I knew someone would care.
They must!!!

I worked hard, did all that I could.
I left a hospital, for the first time feeling good.
Life was different, there were people that cared.
I now had support that I never dreamed of or dared.

But since I've left WIIT, they quit taking Medicaid.
Now I have no place to go.
People who cared have forgotten me.
Promises made have been forgotten.
And I feel stupid for believing and trusting again.
When will I learn.

To you that are hurting,
I, too, share your pain.
Just know it will pass,
One day, it will no longer be unbearable.
The ache may linger,
But the will to live will surpass it.
Happiness even sneaks in.

Dear Enlightened Choices, After receiving several newsletters I decided to write. The newsletters have been a great inspiration to me and a help in focusing on myself and my issues-which have a way of going wayward. It seems that I receive Enlightened Choices when I need enlightening.

I've felt that in not being multi it was easier to deal with, but I find that even being dissociative or fragmented really isn't any easier. So I've learned it doesn't matter which you are, we were all abused and it all is difficult to heal. It is not an easy task to accept that part of self that was hurt. For me it's the adolescent.

I know she is my key to being whole-yet I still keep her locked up. To have to feel her pain, hear her cries is one thing I don't look forward to doing. Since my last stay in May of �96 one of our writing assignments was titled "Before I can look...," which inspired me to write a poem for the assignment.

As I read over the first two lines, I see it is where I am at now. I want to see so I don't hear her. That is, I have always been a visual person and ever since my last stay, I still see only darkness. I didn't stop to hear or listen because I am waiting to "see." Well, up to this point I have seen her pain but I won't listen to her.

The tunnel is dark. So now I must learn to rely on my hearing to guide me to her. My ears must now be my eyes. If I stop trying to see in the dark and use my ears and most importantly trust her to guide me then I can follow her cries and find her! - in the light, at the end of the tunnel.

Here is the poem I would like to share:

Before I Can Look...

Before I can look... into her eyes
I first must listen for her cries.
Following the sounding road
Is most certainly not an easy load.
Many hurt, pains and fears
I promise to fight for years!
Treacherous is this road
I will face it, oh so bold.
Over coming all that is hid
Darkened shadows, a farewell I will bid.
Mountains to climb, rivers to cross,
To conquer all, no longer a loss.
I find her alone there
And on her shoulders, all her cares.
With hope, my hand I reach out
She will take it, I have no doubt.
Together we move cautious and slow
I, her guardian, here below.
We follow the upward path, us two,
Rough weather endured will be over soon.
In rocky terrain I lose my grip
She falls from me, as I trip.
I tell myself , failure! failure! didn't you see,
This way leads to mean �ol mommy.
With only a moment to spare
She takes my hand knowing I care.
With renewed strength, forward I go
Eager to see the suns glow.
Holding tight to each others hand
Knowing we'll soon reach the promised land.
We feel like strangers, yet not so
Our experiences we both know.
We gather our energy together
Knowing we'll win any stormy weather.
We reach the top in all our glory
Never again to hide our story.
Love for self I now have
One together, no longer half.
Before I can look...into her cries
I first will look into her eyes.

Yes, I was abused, not to minimize
the horror I didn't stay to feel.

The pain stopped; the wounds healed;
The hurt stayed along with the guilt.
I tripped, you laughed.
They were right, I am clumsy.

The ability to eat and not vomit,
that comfort became my safety.
You laughed at the fat girl in gym shorts.
They were right, I am ugly.

An attempt to join your group,
you glance and continue on.
I become invisible, silent and away.
They were right, I wasn't worth being.

Creating a thing of beauty, my own
emotions coming out through my hands.
As you walk by I hear - "Who would buy that junk?"
They were right, I couldn't do anything well.

The confirmers were all around me.
Isolation came to keep them away.
The deep, dark dregs of Depression
Became my only companion.

Yes, I was abused, it was torture.
But I discovered I was bound by lies.

Today I know the truth and
switched to positive affirmations.
The confirmers are all around me again,
and I listen and feel their warmth.

Alone it takes over
When kept inside it kills me
My face shows it all.

I grasp at the air
When unheard cries stay muffled
Alone in my room.

Protected from harm
Safely wrapped so tightly
In His comforting arms.

Calmness fills my heart
And peace of mind I do get
Walking through meadows.

When I was seventeen, I was given an assignment in my English class. I was instructed to write a sonnet. A sonnet is supposed to be 16 lines, ten syllables per line, written rhyming ABBA, CDDC, EFFE, GG.

That evening I laid on my bed and struggled to come up with something that would be "good enough" to present to my teacher. All of a sudden, the first line appeared on the blank piece of paper, and it just happened to be ten syllables. I was shocked. It was as if the words had leaped from my heart and landed on the paper. I had not even consciously thought about it. I had just felt those words.

I continued writing but could not adhere to the given ABBA, etc. format. Instead, other lines poured from my soul on to that same piece of paper. They flowed forth, rhyming sequentially and they all had ten syllables. Before I knew what had happened, a 16 line poem was staring back at me.

At that point, I became very frustrated. I had written the truth, which I felt so painfully in my heart, but it was not in the proper format. How could I possibly turn in an assignment so terribly flawed? Worse, moreover, could I dare to share so much of myself with my teacher?

I turned the paper in the next day. For the first time in my life, I had written down the truth and I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. Flawed or not, I had to hand it in. I had to take the risk. I received an "A-."

This is the poem:

Lord, tell me why I am always crying
The only joy I see is in dying.
I'm drowning in an endless pool of tears.
So full of anger, resentment and fear.

I look in the mirror and all I see
Is what I so desperately want to be.
I'm trembling and shaking, falling apart,
Destroying my body, breaking my heart.

Lord, so many care and want to assist,
Yet I shut them out and only resist.
They know what I am and what I can be
If I'd take off this mask and just be "Me."

Lord, take away this confusion and pain.
Oh God, please help me to be "Me" again.

Today, I'm 31 years old and have been fortunate enough to write a new poem. This time I'm not afraid to share it.

*Just For Today, this is my poem:

Thank you, kind Father, for helping me be
The "Me" which I thought I could never be.
The river of tears which flowed from my eyes,
Healed me and freed me and gave me my pride.

I once trembled and shook and even died
To conceal the shame I could never hide.
I hated myself and hated my arm.
So deeply within it, my pain, I'd carve.

But now, in the mirror I finally see,
I must be "just what God wants me to be."
I'm grateful I have lived to see the day
When I would allow me to feel this way.

So, thank you, my Father, for helping me see
I've always possessed the strength to be "Me."

*Just For Today from Narcotics Anonymous

Once upon a time, there lived a little snail named Sam. Sam wasn't happy because he was slow and other kids made fun of him. He kept making things that would help him go faster. One day he made a piece of wood with wheels on it. He figured he could stand on top of the wood and the wheels would make him go fast. He was so excited that he couldn't wait to try it.

Sam snuck out of the house because his mother just didn't understand. She kept telling him that he was perfect just the way he was and that real friends would feel that way too. He didn't believe her because he wanted friends so bad.

Sam took his board to the top of a hill. When he got to the top the other kids came running by and laughed at him. He jumped on the board and went flying down the hill. He had never gone so fast in his life. It was great! The other kids couldn't believe it. But he had forgotten to put a brake on it.

When he got to the bottom of the hill he crashed into a bush. He wasn't hurt, but the other kids were laughing even more now. He sat there for a long time, feeling sad. While he was sitting there a cute little caterpillar came by. Her name was Cindy and she asked Sam what was wrong. She sat down next to him and they talked for a long time. She invited him to a party the next day at the pond. He was so excited that night he could hardly sleep.

The next day he got to the pond early and helped setup for the party. Soon, the whole area was filled with kids. Cindy introduced him and everyone treated him like he belonged. They were talking to him and playing games with him. It was a miracle. He finally felt like he fit someplace. Finally, he realized that he had been so busy trying to be someone he couldn't be, that no one could see who he really was. He didn't even know. His Mom had been right, he was perfect just the way he was and real friends felt that way too.