My Monster Has A Name

Trigger Scale: (3.5/5)

I have always had a disproportional fear of spiders, (arachnophobia) one that I could never really explain until I got older, which I will try to illuminate in this post. There are particular spiders that I am afraid of, most of them the hairy large variety, with the worst of them all being the pink-tip tarantula.

I will attempt to put a picture with this post, but just looking at pictures of spiders makes my skin literally start to crawl away from my hands and face, and I want to run from the image. I understand now that I was running from the memory that the image invoked. Here is my second earliest abuse story I have recollection of, although I am not sure when it became part of my conscious memory:

When I was 2-5 I lived (I use the word ‘lived’ loosely) with my biological mother. Oh, how to ever describe this demon of a women? I call her my “biological womb-donor” or “biological egg-donor” and I believe this allows me to disconnect myself from her. Technically she is most definitely a diagnosed sociopath, and I believe she is also schizophrenic (I know her mother was diagnosed with both).

She has done and said the most terrible things to others with not a blink of the eye, with a cutting accurateness that would make you think she was a psychic. She has lied to me about who my father might have been, playing with my emotions while going back and forth. She has stolen things from me, including but not limited to shoes, clothes, pictures, treasured mementos, inheritance, a tv, money, I could go on, but most importantly, she stole my CHILDHOOD and INNOCENCE.

This women has also physically abused many, spending numerous nights in jail, and causing others to as well in defending themselves against her. She is wild and ravage when angered and will come at you like a rabid dog. Or she will lock you up to shut you up, or maybe drug you up. How do you feel about valium for a 4 year old? This was no issue for her, along with many other drugs including cocaine.

I think you get the point…I am trying to say my biological mother was a masterpiece abuser, making abuse into an art form.

On this particular day she was hell bent on keeping me shut up and not in the way of her life. She knew that I was kind of afraid of this pink-tip tarantula that she kept as a pet. She kept it in on of those small aquariums, and I would sit and watch it move around. Before this day, it didn’t creep me out to watch him, I think I just liked the way it moved. Slow at first, then so fast when catching prey, like a lightning bolt…But when she would take it out – that always made me nervous so I would leave the room…she must have taken note of this.

All I remember is her coming at me, fast like a line backer, scooping me up and carrying the aquarium in the other hand. She was screaming that I was “making her crazy” and that she “couldn’t handle me anymore.” Her favorite line is “you’re making me crazy.” She carried me downstairs into the basement and into the laundry area, dropping me on the floor. She opened the aquarium into the dryer, then picked me up and shoved me in. I don’t think I fought because at a certain point in her rage, you don’t want to put up any physical resistance, or she will really lose it.

I remember it being very dark, and very very hard to breath. But that didn’t bother me, it was the spider, that tarantula. I will never be able describe the horror I felt, knowing that it was poisonous and could kill me (or at least, that is what she told me). Upon writing this now, I wonder if she was trying to kill me! Oh my, from doing a little research I have now learned this is the most common of “pet” tarantula’s and is only mildly venomous, and not really to humans. She was just trying to scare me!

But back to the emotions of being that little child thinking it WAS poisonous and deadly, reminds me of the famous art piece “The Scream”. I had a scream of horror in my throat, but was too afraid to disturb my mother or the spider. So I sat perfectly still. I could feel it crawling all over me, slowly, looking for a way out. Now that I think about it, I could probably have pushed the door open, but I never tried…I don’t know why, I was very defiant, except against her…

She used this tactic many times I think, maybe with my brother too, simply because it worked. It accomplished the goal of making her temporarily free from us. I still cannot stand anything crawling on me and WILL freak out, no matter what the circumstance, if something does. No matter where I am at or what I am doing, the physical sensation is just too much. Please, do not lock your children in the dryer with spiders! It is not nice!

Over my life many people have tried to show me that spiders are helpful and not harmful, and I do now respect their place in the natural order, just not in my home! There were many signs as I grew up after this abuse that hinted at it, like the memory of the abuse was trying to surface, or that the memory was at least affecting me, even though I had no conscious recall of the events. Here are some examples:

• When I was about 7 there was an abandoned house next door to my friend’s house and a black widow took up residence in the car-port. It made a huge web that was probably about 4-6 feet wide eventually. I watched it kill many mates over the weeks, and it was getting fat and was so shiny and black. I remember being fascinated with it (I call it my morbid fascination, because it is so compelling that I know these certain fascinations are related/linked to my abuse history). I started poking it with a stick, day after day, until one day it jumped down on me, bitting my arm. This made me very sick and I had to go to the hospital…
• I was probably about 12 and had just gotten home from school. I went into my bedroom, shut the door and sat down on my bed, besides all my stuffed animals. I remember slowly turning my head to the side, and there on one of my blue teddies was a brown wolf spider (another gnarly, hairy spider) that was quite large. I remember my body convulsed off the bed, almost throwing me into the wall, and I screamed without even knowing I was doing it. My step-mother came in a rush, and when she saw it, she just looked at me and shook her head, saying “Oy vey” under her breath, taking the spider outside. She said she thought there was a dead body in my room!
• This one is probably delusional, but I can swear when I meditate the spiders come out of the walls. I distinctly remember that two days in a row while meditating, I attracted a spider to crawl on me, nearly scaring me to death! On numerous other occasions, I can recall getting up from a meditation session to have them hanging out near me, or hovering over me from the ceiling, etc. However, the apartment I lived in at the time did have a bug problem, but it has made it hard to meditate while lying on the ground to this day.
• I cannot kill a spider or get close to one, unless it is very tiny. I always have to ask my roommate to take care of them, because I also cannot stand knowing that one is in my home! (Even though I logically know there are many, and all the time). I do prefer they be put outside, instead of killed now though.

Whew…that has been on my little one inside’s heart for so long. Any spiders around me? Nope, okay…all good here!

1. Why I’m Afraid of Spiders – Arachnophobia Part 2**
2. I Have Been Abused – Please Believe Me!***
3. The Black Doctors Bag*****
4. Session Splash – May 12, 2009*****
5. Lydia – Crazy Abusive Babysitter Part 2*****

Trigger Warning: (5/5!)

Learn what a “session splash” is.

today will be a long one, because i ended up doing a double session. we talked about a lot of things, so i’m sure this is not in order. i was/am in crisis and i tend to jump around when that is the case. i also was not able to directly talk about my abuse with my therapist until this session (but not until after the first hour and i was about to leave. i felt like i didn’t want to leave until i actually talked about it).

i told her i lost my main source of income, my biggest client, but didn’t get much of a reaction. i think it is a big deal and am very worried about it. i have now lost two clients and haven’t gotten many calls for new clients either. i lost this client because i no longer have a car and have to rent a vehicle.

we talked about some problems that i had logging in to an abuse survivor forum and how it played into me feeling like no one is believing me about my abuse. when i was a child i was always told by adults that there were no bruises, or my abuse was denied in other ways,.so i feel like i’m lying every time i talk about my abuse.

i let her know that i was able to write the black doctor’s bag story, so i did not want to write today (we agreed to start with writing each session). i let her know that writing the story started a flood of memories for me, and related the story to her.

i also recalled a time when my grandmother (step-grandmother i guess) took me for a girls day out, because i also needed my haircut. i remember being about 6 or 7 and was really happy to be going out with my grandmother, because i enjoyed spending time with her. she always paid attention and took me to neat places. she took me to an upscale salon, where they fawned over me, cut my hair and even put a little make-up on me. at the time i didn’t think anything of it but when i got home and saw my father, my heart started beating really hard and i was terrified all of a sudden, so i went and hit behind a chair. everyone thought is was funny and walked away. i remember sitting back there for hours just waiting, i wasn’t sure for what, but i was so scared. thinking about it now i was scared because i knew that i looked good (not in a conceited way, if you get what i mean). i believe this is related to my abusers making me up and putting me in costumes for their sick movies.

at this point i was finally able to tell her about the kitten flashback that i had a few nights before, and the related breakdown. read about this flashback memory. it is a horrible memory to recall, and i was crying while and after telling it. i told her about the breakdown i had as i recalled the memory. as i said in the flashback memory story, i almost convulsed against the wall, and had a scream in my throat. it was about 4 in the morning, so i didn’t want to start screaming, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. i felt like i wanted to scream, but if i started i would never stop, and i was terrified!

i went into my roommates/best friend’s room and told him i was freaking out. i was crying, rocking back and forth and repeating “no, no, no” to myself. i also have a habit of rubbing my forehead, hard until it is almost raw. i continued to rock back and forth, and even hit my chin for a few minutes repeatedly. i felt like i was going insane – i pulled my knees up under me, and bent over them, rolling myself into a ball on my roommates bed. i was crying and drooling on the bed and felt like i might die. eventually i was exhausted, the scream died in my throat and i was able to sleep for a few hours.

my therapist explained to me that it was not me who was freaking out, but the 4 year old me. it was the 4 year old me that was drooling on the bed, that was rocking back and forth. i guess this makes sense, but i still do not feeling like a child. i do not like feeling out of control.

i think that this one memory is tied to so many habits that i have (had?) today:

• nightmares about pets dying, or day-mares/thoughts about them dying. i once had a wicked dream about the first pet i owned having string caught in her throat and she could not breath. i had her in my lap and was trying to pull the string out, but it was really stuck and i could see her dying. it was terrible and i could not shake it for weeks
• i cannot stand to see animals killed in movies, but have little or no issues with seeing people killed
• i almost throw up every time i see a dead animal in the street, you know ‘roadkill’. i cannot help but look either, which is just stupid. i have now taken to putting my hand over the animal as i drive so that i cannot look

however, since talking about this memory with my therapist i have found some of these problems have resolved or at least gotten better. i now only feel sad when i see roadkill, (or slightly ill) which my therapist suggested to me might happen. not sure if it was her suggestion, or a natural progression, but it is a nice change. i also discovered that i was holding a resentment toward my two kitties that is now gone. i am now able to care for them better and do not get annoyed with them as easily. i am also able to feel pure love for them without mixed emotions, which i didn’t even know was a problem until it occurred! and all this in just a week!

after i told my therapist about the memory and breakdown she told me that she believed me, but i just don’t know how she could. these memories, these things i have experienced are so unbelievable. however, i understand that they may have been ‘manufactured’ to be that way.

i shared with her that i wished i could be jesus, or jesus like. i don’t mean that i want to be a god/deity/or have any power except to take away people’s hurt. i feel an enormous amount of guilt about not being the only one abused. i hate knowing that others were abused by the same people as me, and by other sick perpetrators. when i was young i tried to protect other children by being the ‘favorite’ and i wish i could have done this for all of the abused.

i also told her that i felt guilt at being cared for while i was abused. i have heard of many stories where abuse survivors suffer horrible physical damage/scars that last long after their abuse, but i don’t have these issues. my abusers gave me medical care, put ointments on me after using me, and in other ways made my abuse invisible. i also remembered that puberty was not allowed, and guess that this was related to pregnancy now that i am older.

i next shared how i have reacted to family pets dying and my grandfathers death, and how it was probably related to the stories i had told her. when i was younger and people or pets died, i didn’t react. it wasn’t that i didn’t know it had happened, i wasn’t in denial, but i just didn’t react. i remember this scared my (step) mother, and she asked how i could be so cold hearted? i was asked the same thing again by all of my family at my grandfather’s wake. well, i wonder why….

i next asked her what coping skills can help when i experience a breakdown again, and here is a list version:

• acting out in some way that expresses my anger. she has suggested roll playing, using dolls, or ‘playing sides’, which involves playing both parts of the roll playing
• hypnosis
• EMDR
• create something artistic without direction, or end result in mind
• she said something about people having pet memorials
• in the past we have discussed relaxation techniques

she also made a diagram on the whiteboard for me that visually described how the brain interprets information, and in what order, as related to the fight, flight, freeze response.

we discussed DID vs. multiple personality, which we have talked about before. i have explained to her that i don’t understand why i do not have DID, and that i feel guilt over not developing it, and that i sometimes wish i had. i also wonder if i do have it and she is just not telling me because it would break my ‘fragile’ mind.

however, this session i asked her if DID and multiple personality disorder are the same thing, because i wanted to make sure that i was understanding correctly. she said that they were the same, and that they just decided to change the name, but she could not remember why. i shared that i felt that dissociative identity disorder (DID) had a lot less stigma than the term ‘multiple personality disorder’ and was a more accurate description.

i next shared that i noticed a new ‘voice’ in my head, a male authoritative (militant) figure who tells me “No” and “Don’t look there” or “Don’t remember that” or my favorite “for the love of God, no!”. we discussed a ‘tarot’ deck project that we have talked about before.

talked about if she knew when we first met that i would deal with abuse issues (i had little to no idea). she said that it was intuition and she accepted that she may have been wrong, but she felt from the first drawing i did that i had dealt with abuse related to my father (how right she was/is). the drawing was of my spine, represented by black outlined boxes, with a circle in the middle for pain. over that there was a phallic shape with a face over it, complete with mustache, that i said represented my father in the middle.

we discussed making friends and how i have reconnected with some old friends in an organic nature.

i told her my resistance to art is because i do not want to associate the creation of art with ugly topics.

NOTE: since thinking about all this i have played with the idea of having a type of ‘memorial’ for the kittens. however, in my religion, wicca, they do not ritualize mourning which i do not exactly agree with, so it doesn’t give me a documented process. however, it is an idea that might allow for closure of some kind.

1. Session Splash – May 5, 2009*****
2. Session Splash – May 21, 2009**
3. Session Splash – May 26, 2009 Part 1*
4. Session Splash – May 26, 2009 Part 2*
5. Session Splash – May 26, 2009 Part 3**