Hello everyone.....My name is Debb N and I’m
a 46 y/o female. When Deb S. came to me to ask if I was interested in doing
a part of this quilt, I was excited. But when it came down to putting it
all on paper....I saw what a huge job it was. I have to compliment Deb
S. on all the hard work she and others have done to help those of us who
are HTML ignorant *smile*.
My story is a long one, so I’ll try to condense it. For
those who are easily triggered I advise caution as I’ll be talking about
abuse in all forms -- sexual, physical, emotional, and ritual. But there
is a silver lining, so be assured, I am much healthier now than I ever
was and am still plugging away with a life that is full, rich, and full
of love.
My abuse started when I was 4 years old....at least that
is the earliest I remember. My perpetrators were neighborhood boys....I
won’t go into detail except to say that I was not the only one who was
abused, as my brother and other kids in the neighborhood also went through
similar abuse. I do remember however that when the abuse started, I went
back for “more”...it was the attention, the feelings (it started out feeling
“good”) so we went in search of what felt good and the attention that was
available at the time. We realize now that it wasn’t our fault and now
don’t feel the guilt of our participation by wanting “more”. Most of my
childhood memories are non-existent. I remember primarily what I call “bad
things”....kids ridicule, sexual abuse, being whipped by my grandparents
with leather belts --specially designed with holes punched into them--about
12 inches long, 1/4 inch thick and numerous holes “punched into the strap”
so as to let the sting get through., cutting our own switches with green
branches which we would then have to strip all the leaves and bark off
of and give to our grandparents who then did the old “this is going to
hurt me more than it hurts you” speech.
Don’t get me wrong, my grandparents were loving people....”God
fearing people”. and this was part of the problem. The ritual abuse I described
earlier consisted of taking my brother and I off to church up to 6-8 times
a week...sometimes twice a day....to preach to us “hell-fire and brimstone”...as
a sexualized child going to church and knowing that we were “bad” and that
God hated us and that we were sinners and could never measure up....it
was a constant reminder that we were “BAD”....so we started on our long
journey of self-hate and disgust. We were also fat as a child and that
continued on into our adult life where it continues to be a part of our
lives but not such an issue anymore...and as we learn to accept ourselves,
the weight is coming off.
As you may have noticed, we refer to ourselves as selves.
We are DID or MPD (also known as dissociative identity disorder or multiple
identity disorder--although I don’t view it as a disorder as it has saved
my life many times) as most of you will recognize. We have many different
personalities in our system and are grateful for those we know now. They
have allowed us to survive a childhood that was full of abuses. Some of
the personalities we know...others are still lurking and we work to accept,
understand, and incorporate them into our adult lives.
My partner is also DID or MPD. I’m in a same gender relationship
with a woman that is wonderful, funny, and we share many loves together.
Two of those being music and art. Hence the beautiful background and graphics
that Deb S. found for us. It can get quite interesting in this household
with so many different personalities around and different ones out *smile*.
My partner and I have been together going on two years now and know some
of each others personalities well, others it will take longer to build
the trust for. At least we can say it’s never dull!!!
Our DID/MPD diagnoses comes after being in the “mental
health system” for over 26 years. The first 20 or so being misdiagnosed
and treated without much success. We still go through various depressions
and at least one of our personalities/alters is bipolar. I have had many
suicide attempts that gratefully I’ve survived. The last one was in 1981
when I took 188 tricyclic antidepressants. The doctors said I probably
would not survive that one....but I feel an angel was taking care of me
and that God had a greater plan for me. I have not had another suicide
attempt since then and have managed to stay out of the hospitals for over
two years now. I continue to see a therapist regularly and we have been
working together now for about 6 years. It is a slow process, but one in
which I am sure I will come out knowing more about myself and my personalities
than most people learn about themselves in a lifetime. It has also improved
my relationships with my family and friends.
Music has always been a huge part of my life. I was a
voice major in college before I went into nursing...knowing that I could
support myself with a nursing profession when my music future could not
be so certain. So I gave up what I loved and delved into my new profession
with gusto. Since my grandmother had been a brittle diabetic and I had
been instructed and knew how to give insulin by the age of 8 years of age...it
was a natural step. I worked as a nurse for almost 20 years till I was
38 and I became disabled.
My health took a BIG turn while I was doing something
that I loved at the time. I loved my patients, I loved my doc....I was
working as an office nurse following patients in their day to day lives
and they were a big part of my life both professionally as well as socially.
When I became ill, I couldn’t accept the fact that I had worked for so
long to get to where I was only to see that slip through my fingers with
little to nothing I could do about it. I called it “body rot”. My doctors
called it fibromyalgia, cfids (chronic fatigue immune dysfunction syndrome),
connective tissue disorder, and a body that was in “essence” allergic to
itself. All the major organs were involved and while it wasn’t fatal, as
my rheumatologist told me--it makes you feel as if you wished it were fatal”.
And of course not wanting to let go of the job and life I loved so much
I pushed myself til I couldn’t do anything. This left me unable to care
for myself..brushing my teeth was agony...as was trying to pick up a cup
of coffee. I would fall asleep eating my soup or meal. I had to move home
with my parents. ARGGGG...but I’m grateful now that they were there for
me.
Eventually I was able, through my physician, to get an
electric wheelchair and lift on a car. I had to get a different car as
my old one didn’t have power steering and I couldn’t drive it. When I got
my chair, my life was my own again. It took me probably about 2 years from
the time that I got sick to get to this point, but now you can’t keep me
still!!! *smile*. Actually, I’m on my second electric wheelchair now and
as my partner so lovingly states “she uses people as speed bumps”, but
really I’m not that bad!
My life has come full circle. My partner and I like to
do what is called “open mics” this is where people are allowed to get up
and perform in front of others, usually in a pub or coffee shop and we
have flourished. She writes and composes her own music while playing one
of her numerous guitars and sings with and without me. I have been able
to also join a local guitarist that goes around to care homes in the area
to ply my trade as it may be, to groups of senior citizens. What a hoot!!!
They are such a wonderful audience!
Now we are working on the keyboard again.(musical) ...had
to get rid of my piano when I got sick. Am working with my partner now
on notating her music, complete with harmony and she’s got her own Amps
and microphones, and the ability to tape our sessions....so we’re going
full speed ahead.
The last couple of years I’ve also started working on
art. It’s something that I’ve always wanted to do -- learn to draw. I’ve
now had two semesters of drawing and two of painting...and I love this
outlet. It is something that I can pick up when I feel good enough to work
and also is kind in that when I am hurting too badly or too tired to stay
awake, I can put it down and pick it up later. I am hoping to scan a few
of my pics that I’d like to share with you also.
My first marriage ended up with me in an abusive relationship
that lasted only about 8 months. My second marriage I ended up in a relationship
with a kind caring man, who was an alcoholic, and I loved him but it was
a very unhealthy relationship. I have now found the love of my life and
am blessed beyond words. So, for me there is hope after a childhood and
early adulthood that was disastrous. I know the roads ahead will be both
rosy and rocky...that is life..but now I know that I will survive and flourish.
I am happy. I am blessed. And I am fortunate.
I hope that in sharing some of this stuff with others
that they too may be brave enough to go forward, keep trying, and know
that they too, can be happy. Thank you for letting me share with you.
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