WE DID IT! | Scaling the Great Wall of Amnesia
Never knew it at first, but then again how could I when it entails me not knowing? I know now that it was the whole point but if the point is now damaging, then what is the point? Answer: It once helped, but became maladaptive because of conflict. Eventually I had to accept and collaborate as a team in order for me to truly heal. To move on, is to involve the painful process of breaking down the amnesic walls I once inadvertently built to protect myself. The series will explore some rather unique and personal challenges.
Towards the journey from the shock and horror to being on the path towards love and acceptance. It was described this but at first, I denied that it ever apply to me and if it does apply to me then it I can choose on whether to accept it or let anyone else in. I never let anyone in on it but that never stopped a few who were persistent into my inner world. I never initially accepted any of these truths at first, because of the stigma. I was always seen as the weird kid and at the time. I was okay with the world not knowing what was going on with me, I never wanted a spotlight placed on me. I wanted to be a wallflower; so that was the role I played. I began to lay low after moving again because being that obnoxious bully never was my part; I knew even as a child that it wasn’t right and that I was hurting others because I was hurt, too.
I had seemed to change myself with each move, with varying levels of intentions. I was known as a happy baby, was in a medically delicate situation but I was happy and I had a few friends in playschool through the first half of grade 1. We moved, but why? I loved my house in town with a big backyard, the sandbox, the giant oak tree and even helping with the paving stones.. I remembered putting on my mittens (to protect my hands) and I was able to lift the smaller stones big ones were too heavy, (think of like lego and the bricks being like 1, 2, 4 & 6’s) and I could do the 1’s and 2’s with ease but 4’s got heavy and I was told to not worry about the 6’s. I was having so much fun at the house, playing video games like Super Nintendo Mario, Qbert & Joust were my fav (don’t ask how a 4 year old played Joust or even Qbert) but that rumpus room was so huge, could practice my gymnastics, and the school was great. I also loved to skate, swim and I was also a very creative kid. (I am talking off the charts level while they were testing me to find out what was going on) I even learned that I had a teacher that knew my family well design her whole classroom around my special needs. I felt special, not in an entitled sense but loved. I knew then if it wasn’t for that setup, I likely would have never learned how to speak proper English or leave the special education program. Is a new job really that important? I guess… The next place we built it was fun and got more involved but it was where the problem started, namely with the one neighbor who violated me but not sure how to feel because I was told that it was bad but also through catholic school to love thy neighbor. I love my other neighbors, the ones who went searching after me literally all night but I have every right to not love that one. If that wasn’t enough being bullied in school incessantly… I lost a grandfather and was largely separated from that side because my father’s arguments with his sister. I eventually just withdrew myself in the first few grades because I didn’t want to stick out because I knew I was different but how could I have it that nobody could see that I’m different and just want to be left alone. Moved again, but this time there was like a month prior of no bully bliss as they finally after years of damage have the administration finally decided to crack down and launch this huge anti-bully campaign. The bullies were made to apologize, I knew some were forced as I know of many instances I had to pretend to feel bad and apologize even though I didn’t even feel sorry or even have to hold myself back from rolling my eyes in boredom. Grade 4 hit… This is where a lot more problems, it was a grade 4/5 split and like split so did my personality… I didn’t even remember like half the time and I found my fingers covered in tar once being told I’m going to jail for vandalizing a playground… I looked later at it and it looked like a magic mushroom… Freaky still because at that age I barely knew what vandalizing was. I learned that day that apparently scooping out hot tar out of roads and smearing the black goo over surfaces counts. Never did it since but it was really weird how I got there because I don’t remember the way there but was told that we took a different route. Other things like this happened. Our house was in town (huge 1/2 acre backyard) and a house roughly the same size as the last but in town and on two acres less land. Our house backed a cemetery, which I’d often visit. I had grown more of an appreciation since losing my grandfather. I knew one day it would be me as well… while having the carelessness to run around and also at this time hurt other children. I was extremely defiant and disruptive. I was such a threat that there were notes in my record that instructed that I’m not to be left alone with other kids, especially younger ones. I was nine by this time and I have seemed to have dropped the defiance by the time we’d move.
Still disturbed, because while other kids are thinking about play dates and sports I was thinking about court because of something that happened to me. Also, my parents were also having a fallout in their marriage. Despite this, I became a model student. Life became easier when teachers advocated for you rather than against. I actually had a couple close friends and a few others that weren’t particularly close, but they were nice. I mostly kept to myself or in small groups. It was also relatively easy to stay out of trouble, because teacher pets are always little angels! I mean, not always but I did get away with things that would normally have consequences. They liked my values and I actually started to care about learning. There is always a joy in learning something new, even if it is a new way to up cycle old concepts. I may never have to literally use a lot of the things, but I can apply the concepts to express myself.
It also begs the memory of the first attempt at taking one’s own life. It would have taken place early-mid April, nearly 11 years ago yet the day was engrained like it was a recent occurance. It was at the time considered a test – in such a raw and impulsive state, all regard for self has vaporized. It could only be described as possession; an impulse so powerful that it overrode every system, as though a virus. As most would describe themselves as having this fantastical impulse at self-preservation, one that can only be described as absent during the moment that it was only expected to thwart the self-destructive impulse that is seen here. Though the story in short has been mentioned time after time, though the significance remains unchanged.
Quite notably, and this is going to be alluded quite frequently as though it was rooted in fiction, because to many, such reality is seen to be nonsensical and even if taken seriously would warrant any means at intervention. Both cases could actually even be described as accurate because these were positions that were once personally held. Therefore, if mentioned at all the story is referenced from a fictional point of view. If it isn’t worth mentioning to you but it is personally is that it is also mentioned that the recovery process is seen as increasingly more fringe or atypical to even downright obnoxious at times.
To validate this, it may also be interpreted as having multiple storylines run parallel for a person, as a type of a thought experiment tied to Schrödinger and Heisenberg. A situation of multiple iterations as represented by those of the Multiverse theory. To touch upon this further this may also be described as a type of “Rick and Morty” but instead of developing such technology to transform oneself to another dimension, the idea here is that already such means exist, through the construction of one’s own mind.
The idea that there is no physical technology to transport yourself to various different dimensions may seem anticlimactic, because it can be if taken literally. Though, what is often forgotten is the sense of one’s self. What I mean is that if we were to devise a means to go the science fiction route and transport one’s physical self, often neglects all that isn’t physical. What is meant here, is that there is a loose depiction of the idea of self-image and rather how entangled with the physical self it is. Yet, what is not yet understood is how the non physical attributes of a person is attached or rather the intricacies on how certain features or traits were developed. While the intention is not to underme the physical aspect of one’s self but rather to highlight and explore beyond that of the literal self.
With this said, and being fully aware of the implications of interpretation through a variety of perspectives. Even further, to entertain the idea that perhaps stories in this world is seen as fictional and, if for a moment considering the moment of sonder in the idea that that world is as intricate and involved as our own, but from its own perspective and rules that it would also view ours, for instance as nothing more than fictional. There are greater lessons here to be learned, that there is a dimension that can be explored and expressed through this sense of emulating a differing perspective than your own. Through stories one can can be inspired to create based on their own realities. To which there is no real authority on which are candid rather than say different that what others may experience.
With all of this, it is easy to become entangled in your stories. They may be an expression from you, but they do not define who you are, rather it is having definition and having clear intention in each interation that defines you. If this is troubling, however that you find yourself unable to detangle yourself from these and that of the physical world that it would be suggested to seek assistance from those who can recenter your focus and help keep you engaged, present and grounded in the moment. Speaking of which, is central because practicing mindfulness is critical towards trandscending one’s own rose colored version of storylines, fabrications and, so on, as it helps center to the moment; that what may be repressed may be troubling but not experienced at the moment, there was growth and that now, are stronger.
Personally, as adapted through a nearly consistent meditative state, remain clear and focused, can remain in a state of calm that typically would not be seen as advantagious. Meditation is a separate state of mindfullness, and that direct focus is neither extroverted nor introverted by nature, but rather that likened to an internal theromostat. It is, understanding your role and locus of control. By which, self control directs yourself on what can be controlled and as well as adapt by the way you react. These simple rhymes may sound corny though through it is understanding through simple terms is how one is able to diffuse these storms, for instance through promoting ways of consideration of the direction of said storm, impact, and even ways you can react. Some storms you may influence their directions whereas others you simply have no control, though you may choose to bunker down and weather the weather whatever the weather or move to where there is sunshine.
In present time, storytelling is seen as an expressive outlet. Yet again is taken a step further but with ultimate resolve towards living a healthy and functional life. In a time of crisis, overran by the incessent urge at self destruction and imminent threat to self and no known self-preserving instinct and ready to pull the trigger. She needed help, and who else is there to help? They say a voice is powerful, to which has immense merit. A voice can infiltrate the great wall of amnesia and help with connecting the portions that they were once once unaware to the very existence of that state of self. At the center of the storm is calm and collection by which is surrounded by chaos.
Like that of an army infiltrating a barricade, for it was a time of crisis and these walls no longer served as a means of protection.
Mnahhh my turn! Let’s say it was mind blowing! From incessantly thinking about scenarios and how they’d all play. It all started with the Big Bang – both on a universal level and a personal level! There is so much going on, I ain’t got time to watch them separately. I decided to add more monitors, so I can watch each as though through the lens of the Matrix. What a mighty fine movie that is, the red pill versus blue pill to represent doses of truths and lies. It is like accepting a sort of routine and that involves making that choice towards accepting or rejecting that way of life. Where it must be found within yourself, but there is nothing by means of soul-searching.
If the saying silence is deafening, then I would have left Silent Treatment Amphitheater requiring hearing aids. It may be true, and I just never heard it. Everything dialed down. The mind went silent. I was standing at the door looking back at everything, as a “To Be or Not To Be” as I felt a sinking feeling of my impending doom. I could take the shot and it would all end.
Relate is from having no other trains of thought, which to me is a rarity to having all other trains of thought all in rapid fire. You don’t feel your leg as it starts to fall asleep, but you most certainly can feel it waking up. Except, it wasn’t my leg, but my mind. It had a wakeup call, and everything was firing at once. It felt explosive…
In a sense I did pull the trigger, though it wouldn’t have been the one to end my life; but rather the start of a new one. Though, I questioned its intention as it was completely alien to me. It can be answered later it thought… It had an ulterior motive. From deafening silence to its reciprocal, a sense of peace where it, too contends war with itself. Maybe I do have that mechanism by which is life preserving, but to me it was much more rational than instinct or impulse. It was much more. An instinct is not premeditated, as this was very much cognitively involved. An impulse disregards consequences, I was more aware than ever on the implications. To put it simply: It was hypnotic. I could not describe it at first, but later through experience and (unfortunately testing out this mechanism again multiple times only to black out and end up someplace else) but later could articulate it as a sort of trance, and sometimes you’re lucid and other times you have no idea or control – like I became someone else.
In a sense, I DID (pun totally intended) as my school therapist was describing dissociative identity disorder to me in grade 9. It was a total Dr. House moment, and I responded exactly like Iris did in the episode “Dead & Buried“. It was verbatim, like I’d take from the show, but I never watched that episode. I was able to say it was like looking in a mirror, because this was how I responded to my therapist while she was explaining. Among the questions I asked was “So, where are these personalities that I am supposed to have?” I also asked what there was to do about it? She was nice and kept working with me. We kept it between us, though a few people also picked up on it. The people who have, fortunately are advocates for me, which was a life-clanging experience. I no longer had to hide behind a wall, I was finally understood. Among the shock and denial was a sense of relief. It made perfect sense to me, but I didn’t initially accept the news, so I made it into an allegory. It also made it easy to hide the real meaning behind idioms, and allow others to draw their own conclusions while the reality became dead and buried.
During that time, it was better this way. Everyone keeps secrets, and well here is mine! From my point of view sure, a long kept secret that came to light a few times… I knew it was better to cover it back up for the sanity of others. The family went into hysterics and threatened a bunch of stuff, then I’d scoff and say it was just a roleplay. Family members would eventually relax and back off, while I resume my flight under the radar. Tada! Now as an adult, mental health is becoming more of a hot topic and well it hurts more to suppress it, if not me, then to the cause.
The first step was awareness, then after dealing with the shock of the news I felt more in control after hearing the news and I am overall less self destructive and carry more intentions behind my actions. Next off was to draw off my support systems so to better care for myself. This step was invaluable especially while I was at my most self-destructive. I still struggle with the disparage of having others care more about your life than you do your own. It is disheartening to say and I really wanted to change that outlook, but that outlook changed how I saw things. I have made considerable progress, but the damage is still deep seeded into my schema. There is only so much a person can do about their mental health concerns; change is painful and slow and is something that person will always have, though it can be reduced to a level where one can be functional and have quality of life.
I later answered my question with the inital help of the therapist. It must be relative to where where I would have been, though parts of my psyche were cordoned off. Presumably for my benefit, my headmates each had their territory and forbidden to overstep. Before they knew of each other, they simply switched, and a gap is formed since there was no communication. It is like switching stations on the radio and the radio not knowing it has different stations and it being unaware that occasionally, the station is changed. Speaking of which, my family never knew the wiser until I came out and told them. I found that most only know one side, and I’m not playing that exhausting game anymore. I found it was fair to come out as an adult and have an adult conversation and that if they were to truly accept me, I ought to give them the whole package. It only feels like the right thing to do, so I am in that delicate process of trying to unpack that side of me to my loved ones. Its bittersweet; stigma and acceptance. A few actually were happy and ask why “I didn’t come out sooner? Now there is more of you to love!”
They were barraging the proverbial wall in order to connect with me. Jennavine identified herself straight away. Salica was later despite having a variation of her that harkened back to Original Trauma. basically after putting everything back exactly in their rightful place. it was and the one who got me safely in bed. It was almost like I was hearing her, but not quite… More like a thought, though they constructed in ways that are not congruent with my thought processes. In fact, she wasn’t afraid to speak up or step in. She calls it intrapersonal communication. Nice term, like polyentendre and if they are not words, I am going to coin them. First off intrapersonal communication is different t It finally made sense how I would also seem to lose time around attempts, even in process… It would come back in dream like state while I’m not in any imminent threat to myself that this happened… I had multiple attempts… But one would play for example, “I really was going to hang myself? Or…” Then I would think “Yes, but I’m not dead…?” Then she would ask about it, breaking it down and she would say something like… “Amy, you are very much alive. My intention is to keep it that way. Please, speak with me for I wish to help you. I never intend to cause any harm to you, however, you may not like that I have reached out for additional support.” She’s right, I was angry because it didn’t work. I guess she would be more entitled to those feelings because I’m doing these things to myself and by extension to her. “You… What? Was that why everyone was like that? Now they’re all watching… How am I supposed to do as I pla-?” She cuts me off. “Most of your plans I have no problem with, it is these self-destructive ones that need to stop. I’m concerned for you, Amy. Shall I get you help?”
I would try to sell her my schick but she never buys it, no matter how I repackaged it. She will tell me how it is, but she’s so nice about it. Sometimes she would take over or do something else for me, but she is never intrusive about it – well only intrusive to my own destruction. She would actually tell me that my The way she would conduct herself is in a very professional, calm and, approachable matter. Her voice is soft yet profound, with a hint of a British accent, but is mixed slightly, she could cause me to totally relax as if in meditation just by listening. The closest thing to compare Jennavine with is a guardian angel, yet I am not even sure that does her justice. It doesn’t, and I can go on and on on yet another tangent about all her amazing qualities. One of which she can be more stubborn than myself, which saved my life… Multiple times and busted down the Great Wall of Amnesia. In time, I promise, but in the meantime…