Love is a Vicious Motivator

Love is a Vicious Motivator

For anyone who has spent time with me over the past few weeks, you probably found it hard to miss my latest obsession.  Recently I discovered BBC’s Sherlock.  I know what you are going to say next.  “Elisabeth, you are 7 years late to that party.”  I know that.  I have never been a big fan of crime shows and I guess I assumed this would be the same.  I never bothered to watch.  But Sherlock is not about crime.  It is, but it isn’t.  It is about something else.  And while I know my inner parts have driven this obsession (because all obsessions are driven by parts), I am just now realizing why.  Sherlock is about inner parts.  It is about trauma.  It is about repressed memories and the way they run our lives.  But most importantly, it is about love. I am not one of those self-development people who touts the all-encompassing beauty of love in the world.  I didn’t grow up in an environment that supported such things.  I never had the luxury of spending time on things like love.  I grew up in hell.  So not surprisingly, my controller took over.  My controller has always been very strong.  My controller was built for survival and lives in the mind.  Vulnerability, emotions and love were never a part of the program.  Love was a mistake.  Love was something to be avoided at all costs.  And there is no TV character who epitomizes the controller more than Sherlock.  He is the ultimate controller But all controllers have one thing in common.  They can’t do what they are...
Maybe It Will Go Away

Maybe It Will Go Away

The impacts of my traumatic childhood cannot be measured.  They are too vast and far-reaching for me to classify, categorize or otherwise explain.  That said, I do try.  My controller hasn’t given up on the idea that I can define it.  This blog exists because of my attempts to define it, so it’s not all bad.  But the reality is too much for any one person to grasp entirely. Over the course of my adult life, I have done my best to be an adult.  But with a childhood of complex trauma and a coping mechanism which took the form of dissociative identity disorder, I haven’t always had the ability to handle life from an adult place.  Sometimes my younger parts have handled things for me and this has rarely gone well.  Sometimes my controller has handled things and exhausted me in the process. But sometimes the paralysis hits.  I don’t know exactly what causes it.  Maybe there are too many parts who want to go in too many directions.  Maybe the powerlessness is too much for the system and the shutdown is inevitable.  Maybe some part believes that if I hide from it long enough, it will go away.  All of these reactions come from my childhood coping and none of them will bring the best result.  But often, I don’t have the ability, awareness and fortitude to overcome it. Recently, I have noticed that my precious computer has been acting in a problematic manner.  I do have an information technology background, but unlike many of my friends working in that sector, I am not a gadget person. ...
Dear Controller

Dear Controller

We go way back.  Don’t get me wrong, I go way back with the other parts too, but you are the one I remember the most.  You are the one I always heard, always followed, always believed.  Honestly, you are the one I thought was me.  You sound exactly like me, or at least I thought you did.  You are so logical and rational.  You sound just like all the other adults I know.  You know all the rules of society.  You know the laws.  You know how to avoid the pitfalls of life.  You sound just like what I was told I should be.  Why wouldn’t I think you were me? Of course, I know you ARE me.  You are the part who took all the messed up experiences and created the perfect mask for me to use when I faced the horrible, evil, untrustworthy world.  You use incredibly detail-oriented skills to watch the world like very few can.  You are the best project manager ever (if I do say so myself).  You never miss an appointment.  You are never late.  You make things happen no matter what.  Honestly, you are impressive. But there were issues.  You know what I mean.  How many times did the boss compare you to a “bull in a china shop”?  He would laugh, but we knew he meant it.  There is a dark side to your regime.  You don’t do relationships.  You don’t do people.  It would be fair to say you chew them up and spit them out.  If they get in your way, you plow right through them.  You don’t...
You Might Not See It But It’s There

You Might Not See It But It’s There

I have many clients who struggle with the possibility they can be loving, compassionate, grounded, patient and any other characteristic they need for recovery work.  They tell me they can’t possibly be this way because they have never been shown how to be that way.  Their parents didn’t behave that way, and they certainly haven’t felt any inkling of those characteristics since entering adulthood.  And I really get it.  When I started this journey, I felt the same way. How in the world was I going to parent my inner and outer children when nobody ever parented me?  How was I going to love myself (or anyone else) when nobody ever loved me?  How was I going to be compassionate with my inner parts when nobody ever gave me the benefit of the doubt?  How was I going to have patience after a lifetime of fear, of watching everything I ever loved be ripped from my grasp?  That wasn’t possible.  I was basically screwed.  Recovery would never work for me. But for some reason, I didn’t give up.  Those beliefs were strong, but I sensed there was something else.  It was a tiny something else, but it was still there.  For some reason, I had a semblance of understanding that I could learn these things.  I had an even smaller semblance of understanding that I already knew these things.  So I stuck with the idea that something better was possible. And as we do when we live in our heads, I spent an exorbitant amount of time researching things.  I thought I could teach myself how to be what...