Sticking out

I once watched a series of you tube videos looking at how different communities embrace harsh experiences. For example if a whole set of people have experienced an earthquake then they journey together in the path to processing that experience and coming to terms with it. Everyone in the same boat wobbling along together, everyone having and giving support in the most basic form by just knowing what the other has experienced the same experience.

Similarly we at the moment in the UK have just been through the last few years of our banking system collapsing. Everyone has an opinion on it and has or knows someone that has been affected by the capital fear. Its a journey we as a country have travelled together and are still travelling together.

We have friends that work in the village in Romania (near the old orphanage which made us shudder on early 90s news headlines) and although divided in its opinions there is an understanding for those who grew up in the orphanage, there is a massive amount of unsaid communication as to what and why those individuals are the way they are. 

Frog Face

1991 aged 14 and 'frog face' started to follow me. I did not get away until 1997 then aged 20.

Frog face would wait for my school bus and lurk in the roads opposite. Frog face would watch me through the door to the sweet shop I worked in. Frog face would call, send letters and sit on the other side of the road watching our house. Frog face could appear at any point, at any time of day. I could not shake Frog face.

You may think that Frog face was a figment of my imagination, unfortunately that was not the case. For almost 6 years I was stalked.

As previously discussed I have a complex history. Frog face was just part of what has made that thick strong 'C' in the word complex.

Already fairly damaged in my world view, I found myself having to learn to live being disempowered daily. By the 'fear' of the 'ifs, maybes' by the potential of Frog face appearing without my control. I would stand on one side of my front door not knowing, would there be another note on the other-side. I jumped if ever the letter box clanged, or the phone rang.

For reasons I cant go into in this blog, I was unable to tell any one about my situation. All I will say is that Frog face was an adult who held a secret over me. To endure those days at the time, I believed outweighed the shame of anyone finding out. (As I said my perspective was already damaged).

So why write this? if I don't want to write about what happened and why?

Well I love brains, I love how they cope and how they protect themselves. During those years I found my brain doing just that. Protecting me in the best and most honest way it could. You see my brain was my greatest friend. We argued, we fought, we had stand offs! we did all the things together that BFFs do. But it has only been in the last three years that my best friend 'brain' has aloud me/us to share our friendships with others.

Over those long years my identity went from singular to plural. It still remains that way today, I am not an 'I' I am 'we'. At first I split myself in half. The day belonged to Frog face but the night was mine. During the day hyper vigilant, my whole focus was on avoiding and planning ways of out witting Frog face. At night I sewed a hidden pocket into my jeans. In it I tucked a protective knife 'we/I' would go out walking with the families fat springer spaniel. I'd walk in freedom owning my world and revelling in the sense of safety.

Pretty quickly I realised another split was needed if I was going to avoid anyone  knowing what was happening.  At school I created another split in another world as although bullied, it was at least 'seen'.

This splitting carried on until I was nine different people / personalities.  I jumped between these personalities daily depending on the environments encountered.

Soon we were all defined enough to speak for ourselves. We made an internal community. We had all our answers, we did not need anyone. Having lived through this process quite naturally and at the time logically. I have nothing but respect for grey matter.

I met Zippy and so started the great clamp down on the now completely dysfunctional set of people living in my head.  The greater the safety I could trust, the greater the need to want to quiet everything down into something less confusing. As Zippy says 'Carwen nothing directly bad has happened to you now for 13 years'. Today my personalities have been whittled down to bare shadows. Only their voices remain with me. I have learnt to accept them and accept us all living and chatting in my cortex. On good days we are friends, on bad days we are enemies  (especially when I'm tired), there is sometimes just complete overwhelm. But as my strap line says. I am Colourful Carwen, a crowded brain learing to be at peace with itself and its inhabitants!.

Three in one

There is a great big wall in my life at the moment. Split in two: one Carwen on one side and one Carwen on the other  (and then a third watching from somewhere high up).

Firstly let me describe the wall, it's made of thick concrete and it's all grey. The surface is smooth on one side but gritty and sandpapery on the other. It's tall so so tall and it's wide. In short it's impenetrable and it's so densely made even sound can not get through. The Carwen stuck on one side has no chance of getting to the Carwen on the other. Only the Carwen high, high up can see into both sides.

Let me describe each Carwens predicament. 

The Carwen on the left hand side is presenting what look like anger. She is volatile and flies off the handle in a moment. She is the strong, the determined and the fighter. The wall on her side is smooth and she uses it as a guard to watch her back. If anyone approaches this Carwen they are met with suspicion that can turn into attack at the mere fluttering of potential threat.

The Carwen on the right side is beaten. She has been trapped by this wall for such a long time. Her body is thin, tired and bruised. She loves the Carwen in the left hand side, she wants to calm her down. Understanding that really angry Carwen is only scared, the anger is a front for deep pain.

 But now she sits immobile, the wall on her side is  sandpapery and rough. It scrapes and shaves at her thin arms and legs. She has sat now in defeat and despair, knowing her twin is hopping around misunderstood and communicating everything that is not true.

The third Carwen, the observer. She looks down on the other two. She watches as if it were an amusing game. She looks from one to the other but feels nothing. There is not much to write about her as looking is really all she does. 

Occasionally she considers climbing down to help one or the other but she is met with such confusion as to who is in most need. So the result is to just sit passively and not get involved. She is frozen by overwhelm.

This Blogg I dedicate to my young fighter friend. I write on your behalf as you are to young, in the hope that my experiences will help others see meaning in yours.