So..... I'm thinking that perhaps everyone has a capacity for this kind of splitting; duality of self. That it is a fail-safe design "option" (if... then.... else) of how humans are actually designed. Sort of like dissociation or Stockholm Syndrome - in that, in an extreme situation we humans are able to twist ourselves into any configuration of "consciousness" necessary to ensure ego-survival. Just as each person is a totally unique individual - different levels of sensitivity to external conditions imposed on one can trigger to a greater or lesser degree the fail-safe, "last resort" option built into our brains.
Here's where I might differ in opinion from others: I believe that if it's possible to distort our "selves" to survive that kind of dire situation... it's also possible to put things right. But, there's no one size fits all remedy for that - even if there do appear to be aspects of the task, that we, collectively, share in common.
High up on that list of skills that lend themselves to these tasks, is the ability to self-observe I think. What my T called, the "observing ego", which I think might correspond to a higher level processing center of the brain. It's able to absorb the raw, intense, emotional signals of the flight/freeze/fight centers of the brain - signals that contributed to a "self-in-exile" survival strategy in the first place - and slow down the analysis, tease apart tangled emotions, evaluate utility, validate reality based on external signals from the senses, and modulate physical responses - the jittery, jumpy fear or anxiety carried along the pathways of the sympathetic nervous system. This is the part of the brain, that enables the ability to speak, write in 3rd person narrative... again, I THINK. And it's an important tool, for me.
I also propose, that in a traumatic life/death situation - or in a continously abusive situation - I think sometimes, the ability to engage that part of the brain "leaves" us; we can't quite make the shift into that level of the brain and using that tool. So, like a stroke victim - we have a bunch of pieces of experience; very real, very clear sensory data and a lot of reflex, instinctive - one could say regressive "kid logic" - type "thinking" patterns that emerge. And these are experienced and expressed in a disjointed fashion - the natural connecting bits of language, narrative, and linear sequencing goes out the window. Think of how someone who's just experienced a very frightening situation talks - everything is jumbled; disjointed; out of sequence and each little bit expressed is of equal importance.... and it's only after some time, and an acknowledgement of "oh - I'm safe now; oh - there's someone else here; oh - it's OK" that the person is able to "tell the story" in a way that "makes sense" - has meaning and is understandable to others.
It's that time period of brain-regrouping that's important to HOW we develop that story. Whether there really is another person - a "safe" person, there. Whether we are alone. Whether we bounce from frying pan into fire... or whether we find a safe place simply to rest. And whether or not, we are able to reboot the higher level processing parts of our brains... and keep all the parts of our "selves" together, in the usual amounts and order. Sometimes - that regressive emergence of "kid-logic" also gets "stuck" in our brains; a self-descriptive identity that we've already grown out of gets pasted back on top of our current selves... as a way of "remembering" who we were - BEFORE.
The real "horror of my situation" that sent me over the edge wasn't the violence; the rape. I understood violence and how it worked; I didn't feel that I'd especially "brought this on myself". It was awful; I thought I was dying or dead. But, the real horror was confronting the fact of my mother's denial of the reality of what had happened to me. And her own part of responsibility in the drama we all experienced. And how she rationalized it all away with what Dr. G calls a "soothing distortion" and I call a lie - and my real trauma occurred when I refused to agree with her version of events. That provoked the campaign of brainwashing and propaganda, which she'd been working on anyway... trying to get me to side with her and vilify my dad, in her war of righteousness with him, to muster up the courage to divorce him. And of course - later, as well. It was probably a year or so later, that I finally realized she was - and remains - mentally ill.
While I was struggling with the idea, that I could "put part of myself away"... so that my brain would function well enough to go to school, the one thing I kept thinking was that I wished, I wanted, would do anything at all - to be like BEFORE. Well - things just don't work that way in real life. But because that "before me" was the one who got me into trouble with my mom - because the "before me" was dangerous in ways that I simply couldn't defend against at that age... It was the "before me" that went into exile; hiding... and it was the "before me" that had such a strong survival instinct, that turned into the "internal sabateur". That was bold enough to smoke and not care if it killed me. That wanted to send "smoke signals" up and hope a hero would come rescue me; would see me through the facades and the haze. And it was the before me who resisted all attempts to quit smoking - because in a way, the self that I am now is responsible for abandoning her 40 years ago. She lived in a world where you punished people for any little thing. Where violence was a fact of life. And she was pretty mad at me - and I've had to admit that I can see why, to her. I've had to try to repair the relationship - without demanding a thing of her.
Like putting out a bowl of milk to entice a feral cat.
And I've had to let her rant, rave, and carry on... I've had to endure all kinds of snippets of emotional, sensory, and even physical memory that she "shows" me... and I've had to hug her over & over; thank her; and show her respect and compassion and kindness and even forgiveness... and slowly but surely re-establish trust and introduce the idea that the "before" is in the past and can't be "now"... but that she can be "now" in my current life because it's no longer dangerous and I miss her... and while she "still wants a mommy"... I can do that for her - mother my own self - she's also big enough to not need one as much. And so she's matured; grown-up; grown into "me".
I've had to forgive her, for accepting the temptation of addiction to smoking. I've had to teach her how shame, fear, and abuse were the real cause of her "need" to "hide in plain sight". How maternal neglect left her with the barest of emotional education... and how she had to find a way to satisfy her own needs. And I've had to forgive her for wishing she was dead... and using smoking addiction as her way of "getting there".
and lord knows - it's taken me a hell of a lot of words and babbling over & over & over ad nauseum - to finally get to the point where we're both of us - the "now me" and the "before me" - on the same wavelength. Where it's just Amber... past, present, dippy, and smart... and smart-ass or irreverent... and vulnerable and emotional... all those things that I can be at any given moment.... and all that "separation" is over - done - fixed.
And now, maybe, I can go on and talk about other things!
