Let Me Introduce...

Keeper. 

I was going through some random Photobucket pictures, specifically searching for "Speak No Evil" photos and I came across the below image.  It is haunting me tonight because it really does look like an older version of my eight year old self...aka Keeper.  In my therapy sessions, I've described Keeper as having very piercing eyes, but no mouth.  Here she is:

A Curious Case of the Creepy Crawlies

Tuesday was really rough.  Really rough.  All day I felt like my skin was crawling.  Truly crawling with a billion little worms moving and squirming, driving me crazy. 

Got to therapy and talked about it..told her that I was terribly agitated and couldn't really figure out what was going on specifically...just that it was uncomfortable and I needed help.

Back to my boulder we went.  Our intent was to throw the "creepy crawly sensation" into the river.  But no.  I felt like something was holding me back...or someone.  My therapist asked me who or what I thought it was..and as I sat there, on my peaceful rock, Keeper showed up in her long white nightgown and the big green eyes..her dark hair blowing in a nonexistent breeze.  I asked her why she didn't want me to throw the creepy crawlies into the river and the only thought I had as I asked her was that she was protecting me.  Protecting me from the secrets. 

In digging further, I came to understand that she was afraid that if she did tell the secrets, all the parts of me would be completely overwhelmed.  And that she wouldn't be needed anymore.  Eventually, we (my therapist and I) were able to convince her to let me put the awful feeling of my skin crawling in a huge jug..instead of the river.  That way she could still guard it, but I'd be able to function.  Found out that Keeper doesn't sleep.  She can't.  She has "lived" this way her entire life, saving the bruised and injured parts of my psyche from the floodgates of memories and pain.  A very shitty way to live if you ask me. 

Now, dear friends and readers, I am well aware it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what the secrets could be.  But I, as well as Keeper and Five, am not ready to say them yet.  I'm just really scared...

I know this is going to be bad.

Fun and Games

I'm back to feeling "okay" after my therapy session the other night.  I ended up back on my boulder, watching Keeper rock while sitting in a huge rocking chair...surrounded by ginormous soft red pillows, and clutching the security blanket I'd been attached to as a child. 

As I sat in the chair in the office, my therapist told me to ask Keeper, this little eight year old Christina that I'm beginning to get to know, what her "job" is.  Since Keeper can't speak, I saw her pick up a large, gold padlock.  She just sat there, staring at me...swinging the padlock back and forth.  She's the guardian of the secrets..and doesn't trust me enough yet to let me in.  I was told to ask her what she does for fun...and she just stared, cocking her head to the side.  She doesn't know what fun is.  Does she want to learn how to have fun?  She just stared.  Not yet. 

Then, it was time to invite Five on the boulder.  She showed up wearing a pink party dress with white tights and Mary Jane patent leather shoes.  She was quiet as well, but agreed to sit in a small rocking chair and listen, holding onto a very worn teddy bear.  At my therapist's prompting, I asked Five if she wanted to have fun.  She started to look anxious..I could tell immediately what the problem was.  Her mother.  She didn't want to make her mother angry...didn't want her to know about the boulder...didn't want to have fun if she was going to just get in trouble later on. 

I asked Five if she wanted to throw the fear of her mother finding her into the river..carrying the fear away with the water..and she did.  It took awhile, but at last, she understood that her mother would not come for her on the boulder.  That it is a safe place, far from the prying eyes of her captor.

Before Keeper and Five left me alone on the rock, I took Five in my arms..and we cried together.  I told her how sorry I was that she was scared...sorry that she couldn't enjoy being a little girl and have fun.  The tears poured from her eyes..and mine...as we sat there.  I didn't want to let her go...but I promised that she could return any time she wanted.  Keeper was just watching us from her perch on the rocking chair...and I told her that she was welcome as well.  She stared..and nodded.

It's a start.

I'm angry though.  Yes, yes..I AM an angry adoptee.  I shouldn't have had to constantly look over my shoulder...I should have been able to have fun.  I'm not even sure I know how, even now. 

New Look...And Ancient Pain

Okay guys, so I'm reeeeeeally technically challenged but managed to figure out how to change my template on Blogger.  What do you think?  I'm not entirely convinced that it'll stay like this but I'll live with it for awhile.

This has been a crap-ass week.  It started last Saturday when Libby's (my Jeep Liberty) battery died.  Sigh.  And continued on with a health scare with my a-mom.  She was having heaviness in her chest and tingling in her arms. 

Now, regardless of the fact that my a-dad was a prick my entire life, he DID die of a massive heart attack so I'm very conscious of my mom's physical health.  Thankfully (in these emergency circumstances anyway) we only live about fifteen minutes away from her so I was able to get her to the emergency room quickly.  She's okay.  All of the tests she had came back okay. 

I have to tell you, it scared the crap out of me.  As much as she drives me nuts and makes me want to tear my hair out, I don't know what I'd do if she passed away.  It'd be easy for me to say "Fuck her!" for all the shit she put me through as a child and even as an adult, but it's a lot more complicated than that.  Even through all the abusive years and the yelling and the screaming..for better or for worse, she's my mother...just as my n-mom is. 

Therapy was craptastic tonight.  Just peachy.  Bawled my eyes out on the way home...realizing more and more how incredibly fucked up I am in the head.  My therapist has this amazing ability to take me to places that I would really rather not revisit.  But I have to.  I have to close my eyes and see my little five year old self and have actual conversations with her...I have even rocked her in my arms and cried with her.  I have talked to the Keeper of the Secrets..my eight year old self.  Tonight I tried to break through the fear and get the Keeper to let me help the littler one, hereafter known as "Five"..but she just stared at me silently in my mind and slowly shook her head...holding Five's hand the whole time.  Sounds crazy doesn't it?  It feels crazy to write it..but it's happened.  Just as the abuse happened.  Fuck.

**ETA...Help!!!  (Did I mention I'm technically challenged???)  Last night when I checked the new blog layout/template, the widgets were on the right hand side of the page..now they are below the posts...how the hell do I fix that???  Anyone??  Anyone????  Bueller???????