In the last couple of weeks, I have come to realize that my person (personality?) is broken down into different parts.
We’ve already talked about the child part of me that I killed, yet as I dig deeper I find that she isn’t the only person/part in there. To make this easier, for myself and others, I’ve named them. I don’t want this to seem that they are separate, and that when one is out the others are not, or that they don’ all know that the others exist. I am not talking a Sybil-type experience here. The me that I am is always there but these parts of me are also there too and I seem to feel them come to the forefront when they think they are needed, and the take control, make decisions etc., but I can also stop them. I’m not sure if I am saying this right or that I can even make others understand. Maybe it is crazy and maybe I am crazy but this feels right to me – acknowledging these persons/parts of me.
Kit – she is my child, my innocents, she is the part of me that I killed, to survive. Now is a ghost that haunts me, trying to remind me what it is to be a child – all innocent and sweet and trusting.
Becca – She is my teenager; she is the rebel, the one that wants the clothes, the funky hair color/cut, more than one earring in each ear, and the make-up. She wants to tell the world to go F*&@ its self. She doesn’t care what other people think, because if they don’t like it that’s just fine.
Rose – she is my voice, my courage to speak about my abuse, the rape by my grandfather, she is the one that is pulling the others to heal. She is the one that is healing me. She is the one that writes this blogs.
Edith – she is my pain, my depression, the one that was continually abandon, told that she didn’t matter. She is my adult, the one that takes over when no one else is there to be the adult. She is the one that fights the fights and protects those that need protecting.
A – I won’t post my real name here but she is the one that wants all the rest to connect, to all be part of her so that she can be whole and not these broken pieces. She wants them to all function in harmony not pushing the others out of the ways so that they can rule the day.
Anyway right now my teenager – Becca is definitely out and controlling things. She wants me dressed in bright, bold colors; she wants the long earrings, and big jewelry. She wants the make-up especially the glitter make-up that I haven’t worn since I was 14 to 18 years old. She is driving the need for the bright red hair and the punk hair-do. I don’t feel calm without them .The problem is that I’m in my thirties and I feel a little bit old for all this. She’s also driven my need for the neon tiger stripe sheets for my bed and the pillows that match (they were in the kid’s section).
Today she got me all done up before my therapy, and my therapist noticed. She says that I seemed happy and then she asked why I keep trying to make this into something that was wrong with me instead of going with that happy feeling and enjoying it. I realize that I don’t know how to enjoy this and that my automatic reaction to happiness is to try to figure out why I shouldn’t be, so right now I am going to enjoy Becca’s youthful joy of life. She is there for a reason after all – maybe it is to remind me that I can look good, have fun and do and be crazy sometimes.