Separated
From The Light:
A Path Back From Psychological Trauma
Second Edition
By:
William B. Tollefson, Ph.D.
TOLLEFSON ENTERPRISES
Cape Coral, Florida
Copyright 1997
William Tollefson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy. No recording or any other information storage and/or retrieval system without permission in writing from Tollefson Enterprises Publisher.
Published by Tollefson Enterprises Publisher
Manufactured in the United States of America
Second Edition 2004
First Edition August 1997
Contact for more information at:
Web site: www.DrBillTollefson.com
E-Mail: TollefsonEnterprises@gmail.com
Separated From the Light
“The windows to ourselves are
sometimes clouded by the winds
of terror and frosted by the chill
of loyalty, therefore our darkness
continues.”
William Tollefson
Dedicated in memory of
William G. and Barbara Ann Tollefson
I am particularly grateful to my wife Melody and my daughter Tammi Ann,
for their loving support and inspiration.
I’m also very grateful to Leslie Ann Kent and Tammy Burton.
Thanks to my partner Larry Spinosa and his wife Diane for their extensive efforts on this manuscript.
Without all of their help this book would not have been possible.
Table of Contents
Introduction …………….…………………………………….1
Part I
Chapter 1 Living Nightmare…………………………………4
Chapter 2 Pain…………………………………………...….23
Chapter 3 Discovery…………………………………………36
Chapter 4 Inner Journey…………………….………….……71
Part II
Chapter 5 “What Do I Need to Change?………………..……106
Chapter 6 The Unfolding Self……………………….……….118
Chapter 7 Recovery………………………………….……….152
Chapter 8 Incorporation Therapy…………………….……….174
Chapter 9 Steps toward Recovery…..……………………...…182
Epilogue …………………………………………………...…...184
Survivors Credo………………………………….…………......185
Bibliography…………….………………………………………186
Separated from the Light
Introduction
This book was written to let people know that there is effective help for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and there are professionals who can assist with their recovery. It offers common-sense principles and theory explaining what a human being does in reaction to trauma and suggests a possible path to recovery. Separated from the Light illuminates the darkness, isolation, and secrecy that shroud survivors of trauma. It celebrates the power, strength, intelligence, and creativity that all survivors demonstrate in their pursuit of self-preservation in the face of danger. It brings a perception of normalcy to the survival process and helps survivors understand the commonality of their reactions.
Separated from the Light presents two views of the mental, physical, emotional and/or spiritual, post effects of trauma: 1) The survivor’s perspective, 2) the educational view of the mechanics involved in what I term the symbolic unfolding process.
Some people conceptualize life events better through experiencing stories, and others understand better by thinking through a process. This book offers both. The first half is fuel for the heart and the second is fuel for the mind. If the reader empathizes with the character in the clinical story, then their ability to understand the mechanics will be enhanced. Part two is a mirror image of part one.
Since the dawn of human civilization, storytelling has been used to impart information by way of the spoken word, symbolic pictures, or later the written word. It’s a powerful method of passing down knowledge of the strength and power that we human beings possess. It is a safe way of addressing the deep symbolism present in trauma and the process of surviving those experiences.
Part one gives the reader a chance to identify with the internal reaction to trauma, i.e., the loss of self. The story offers a glimpse into the survivor’s emotional struggle and the mental battlefield on which it is fought, even when that battle occurs years after the traumatic event. The tale is a composite of clinical information from many survivors. The telling of this story is a simple means of understanding the hidden world of pain and horror. It gives the reader a way to see from the inside out the intrusive and repetitive suffering that is common among survivors.
Part two examines the same issues but from an educational perspective. It offers a look at the creative mechanics of the loss-of-self process that is enacted for survival. This part of the book is a common-sense approach to my basic theory and stated principals of how a person symbolically unfolds to save self in reaction to a traumatic invasion by an overwhelming force. It will assist the reader in understanding that a person doesn’t break when overwhelmed by trauma. Rather, the victim unfolds as miraculously as a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis and takes flight to safety.
I believe that those who survive a trauma do so because of their strength, intelligence, power, and creativity. It is my belief that anyone who survives horrifying events do so through interaction between mind, body, and spirit – elements working in unity to hide “self” safely away in a maze of dissociative symbols. I believe such internal interaction is a gift from God (or higher power) and is an ability present from birth. This phenomenon is an instinctive and natural restructuring of the mind, body, spirit, and self. It’s a miracle that protects a person from any outside agent, natural or human, that attempts to strip control of self from them through force.
Self doesn’t disappear; it hides deep within but doesn’t remain quiet forever. Self acts out in anger, crying for attention gained by releasing damaging thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. It speaks in “disguised communication” using symbolic messages. Yet its meaning is clear, self yearns to be rescued.
Knowledge acquired about the daunting symptoms of trauma diminishes their power and mystery. Wisdom gained from reading Separated from the Light should shine into the darkness of trauma survivors, thereby empowering self and reducing the fear and anxiety associated with past events.
William B. Tollefson, Ph.D.
Part One
Chapter 1
Living Nightmare
The thought popped into her head as she sat in the front passenger seat of a 1999 gun metal gray Ford Explorer. It arose between the pain of the reality that she was en route to a mental hospital and the intense need to escape. If she had read that line in a book it would have made her chuckle. She stared past the dew-misted glass of the car window, trying not to make a sound when the emotional pains came, hoping not to alert the driver. She tried not to think about her second husband, David, tried not to think about anything. But sometimes the thoughts just came up. Tall, muscular-framed David standing there in his military fatigues right in front of her, fire in his eyes, one hand with a beer in it, and the other a semi-clenched fist used to slap her. She kind of wished he was there. She would have enjoyed seeing “Mr. Control” realize he had been fooled.
She began rolling down the window, and the dampness of the inrushing air hit Barbara Ann Freeman’s sullen face. She recognized a slight increase in her heart rate. The coming night began to heighten her awareness. Barbara’s thoughts were drawn from the present into fear of what her future would bring. Darkness always brought on haunting feelings in the recesses of her mind. The secrets she had unknowingly guarded all these years no longer remained quiet within her. Barb, as she liked to be called, knew that nighttime would plunge her back into the depths of a world of fragmented images and threatening sounds.
During the past six months Barb’s repressed memories refused to stay dormant. Memories of her early childhood lay quietly in the shadows of her mind, remaining hidden for her protection. She could only recall the years since her eleventh birthday. Like a drinking glass shattered on the kitchen floor, the primary stages of Barb’s life were broken into many fragments of grotesque images that kept her suspended in unbearable pain.
The crawling pressure continued to mount in the center of her head and was working its way toward the base of her neck. She felt her vigilance take over. Suddenly she was frightened by a disturbance in the air around her, directing her attention inward.
Barb’s mind reflected on her past and how she had always given up control to someone else allowing others to direct and validate her feelings, thoughts, and behaviors. She never did much of anything for fear of making a mistake. She didn’t want the pain of being wrong, but she always seemed to be wrong. Without someone directing her, she was left to her own internal control that she couldn’t trust. Black emptiness crept into her life whenever she attempted to assert herself. As long as she could remember, other people’s ideas and opinions were more important than hers, particularly her father’s. She was totally unaware of where she had learned such thoughts and feelings.
Growing up, Barb idolized her father. She constantly vied with other people for his attention, even with her own family members. Yet she harbored resentment against him deep in the core of her soul. She had no idea from where those contaminated thoughts erupted. Intense fear, rage, and love surfaced whenever she thought of him. Barb never examined her incongruent feelings. He had always professed his love for her and spoken of her as his favorite in front of others, including her brothers and sisters. While he was the same man she thought she loved, he was the very person who hurt and terrorized her and she had been defending him throughout her life.
Barb’s mother, on the other hand, brought on repeated waves of anger, betrayal, and competition. She was driven to please her mother, but nothing she did was good enough. She felt as though she were a threat to her mother’s happiness. Funny as it may sound, she also felt she was a threat to her mother’s marriage. Despite years of brutal criticism and physical mistreatment by her mother, Barb continued trying to win her love and approval. How could I have ruined that lady’s life? Barb pondered. Confusion set in, stifling her racing thoughts for a moment.
A painful chain of thought formed in her mind like the dark wall of a storm. Panic coursed through her body. She frantically searched for a behavior that would numb the pain. A surge of anguish forced her to recollect fragments of foggy images. She began to see the years she consumed alcohol and drugs, the toll her addictive behavior took on her relationships, her body, her life, and her dreams.
A window that her mind blacked out years ago opened, releasing painful images of her first marriage to Steven. He was a self-made success in the construction business but troubled and haunted by his own past. Five years of torturous images raced through her brain. At last Barb analyzed why she took all that punishment, constantly living in a state of fear and guarding against Steven’s next outburst. She chuckled silently at the distorted excuses she thought up. She had protected him and his career just the way she had her father’s. Her rueful laughter stopped in a rush of sadness. From the pain Steven inflicted she had developed disgust for her physical self and concluded it was her body that attracted Steven’s brutal attacks.
Rotating her head slowly toward the car window, Barb gazed out in an attempt to distract her thoughts and building emotions. She sought relief by forcing her mind to escape into the dark on the other side of the glass, certain the sanctuary of numbness lay less than a windowpane’s thickness away.
Another onslaught of latent emotion swept over her. Barb had been battered by such upsurges for months; but if the truth were told, she had known similar episodes her whole life. The emotional attacks were taking a toll on her body and mind, and this last one almost depleted her reserves. Exhausted, she focused on the passing gray shadows of the night, hoping the scenery would dissipate her pain. But it held.
Barb finally achieved success, and passage into her sanctuary was granted. It was a magical world she entered, a safe haven from her distress. As a child she had created that world in the far reaches of her mind. It was a place where she could hide from her fears and reduce elevating anxiety, a protective territory that offered a reprieve from reality. Barb allowed no one on earth even the smallest glimpse of her private world. No one ever realized when she retreated to it. She even fooled her father. He never discovered her ability to leave mentally. He thought he always had total control of her body, mind, and spirit. As a result of his continuous brutal physical attacks over eighteen years, she became highly proficient at entering and exiting that world. Sometimes she even fooled herself.
Startled, Barb questioned whether her best friend and driver of the car were aware of her “zoning out” as she described it. She readied a couple of excuses in case Sandy discovered what was going on. She always had a repertoire of excuses to explain away her weird behavior. Assured that Sandy was unaware of the raging battle taking place inside her, Barb returned to the activity in her mind.
No one could ever understand our need to travel into my magical world except Annie, she thought. Annie was her dark side. Annie was created out of necessity. She served as a normal internal reaction to living in a very dysfunctional environment while she was growing up. Annie functioned as an unseen bad twin. She was Barb’s made-up double of what her father called her “defective traits” (anger, intelligence, beauty, rebellion, adventurousness, and emotions). Annie always got her in trouble. Just thinking was a sin by her father’s standards. Both father and her mother refused to allow Barb to show any anger. She learned the hard way to not bare her anger, period. She was taught very young, “if I ever see anger on your face, I’ll give you something to be angry about, and I’ll make sure you never show it again.” Barb birthed Annie as a defensive reaction at age four, the night when her father locked her in a closet for over twelve hours to teach her a “valuable lesson” as he described it. He left her there tied to a hook on the back of the door. Barb remembered thinking that she would die if she remained alone in there much longer. Annie developed to keep her company, to help her through the pain, and to give her support in the cold darkness of the closet. Barb knew she had been the compliant daughter, the “good girl” as her father put it, but Annie never knuckled under to him or to either one of her husbands. She was Barb’s historian, whose original function was to witness and record the endless successions of traumas so Barb didn’t have to be present or feel overwhelming pain or emotions. She then stored the records far from Barb’s knowledge.
At one point in her young adult life Barb thought she was one of those crazy women she had seen on television professing to have other people inside them. Wondering if she was a plain crazy or a multiple personality, she researched the subject extensively and came to the conclusion that Annie wasn’t an alter ego but just another side of her developed personality, something like an imaginary friend with whom she could stockpile horrific memories, find comfort, and companionship, and store what her father referred to as her evilness.
Due to all the traumatic experiences Barb had as a child and her need to escape the pain, Annie grew stronger through the years. The two were always at odds. Every day brought another tug of war between Barb on the conservative side of an issue and Annie on the extreme liberal side. They were like oil and water, arguing over right and wrong, good and bad, fact or fiction, all or nothing. Barb had also developed Annie to protect her from the periodic physical punishment.
Barb always recognized Annie’s voice in her head. Annie would speak to her as soon as her father began his pre raging episodes by criticizing, then Barb would dissociate herself or zone out, letting Annie take over and function for her. Annie couldn’t stay still or hold her tongue, which always increased her father’s rage. She blamed Barb’s submissiveness for all the problems she had with her father, but Barb had been well trained not to resist.
In a strange way Annie was more loyal and firmly attached to her father than Barb, who thought Annie was just like him. She constantly pushed Barb toward perfection and pleasing her father so he would stop punishing them. She knew that if Barb were perfect they would gain their father’s love, but there was no margin for error when it came to her father.
Barb’s body slumped under the cumulative weight of her thoughts, but the seat belt stopped her from falling. She went limp for a moment when disjointed emotions from her past knifed into the center of her chest, stealing her breath and then thrusting her back into the seat. A chilling indifference spread across her ashen face. She felt like an empty shell. After a couple of seconds of reflection, Barb was able to regain some strength, check the interior of the car, and retreat deeper into her private magical space.
An image of her drawn countenance reflected from the passenger window. Barb studied her once-radiant blond locks that were now matted and greasy. She couldn’t take her eyes off the weathered and empty expression on her face. The landscape raced by while she continued to examine her image, Barb contemplated all the years of physical torture, chaos, fear, and emotional beatings that had stolen her beauty, her intelligence, and most of all her spirit. To think she had once captured three beauty titles and was the homecoming queen her senior year in high school! She only judged her accomplishments as good enough when her father noticed.
Barb shook her head, forcing her painful recollections to contort and disappear back into murkiness. The gruesome images loosened their grip, but she remained on guard. Suddenly inside her mind she remembered Steven’s stabbing words. He was a hyper critical and controlling man, a successful contractor by day and extremely jealous husband by night. “You would be nothing without me! Who else would put up with your ugly ass! No one would ever want you,” he repeatedly told her. Those words echoed in her head, making Barb slap her hands over her ears in an attempt to suppress the noise. A single tear slid gently down Barb’s cheek. Wrapped in blistering fear and anxiety, she generated a mental search for answers to why Steven had hurt her throughout their time together. No answers came. Puzzled, she reconnected to her search for what had gone wrong and again, no answer. Annie’s booming voice interrupted Barb’s third attempt “Who the hell do you think you are? You know the answers; you’ve always known. You’re hiding from them.”
“Why did Steven do that?” Barb asked. Why didn’t he ever accept me or need or want me?”
“You were only an object to him.” Annie laughed.
Barb’s head sank toward her shoulders. Shame froze her into submission. She was alert and conscious, but her body wouldn’t move. She couldn’t loosen Annie’s emotional grip on her, nor did she want to think about her marriage any further; but Annie had other intentions. An explosion of answers shot past her denial and rained down on her.
“You weren’t good enough, attractive enough for him” Annie stated. “He felt you embarrassed him in front of family and friends. You never did anything right.” Annie backed off and softened her tone. “Still ignoring me?” she whispered. Barb was frozen in silence, unable to speak. “You never could keep it up,” Annie said. A couple of seconds more went by with no response. “You are so stupid. Are you blind?” Annie said. “Your precious little Steven betrayed you. He isolated you from all your friends. He kept you from spending time with your family and demanded your complete allegiance. He got everything, and you got deprived. He wanted your body, not you. And to think you wouldn’t go to the bathroom without his approval. Steven was just like your father. Couldn’t you see it? He knew – no, he was positive you wouldn’t say anything.”
Annie’s words tortured Barb. The puzzling stockpile of hurtful statements crumbled on top of her. I have to stop her, she thought, trying to encourage herself. She began to chant in her mind, I have to stop her. I have to stop her. I must stop her at all cost. Barb’s skeletal fingers pressed harder against her temples. The pressure seemed to work, momentarily blocking the words, and her body began to relax.
Barb quickly sought to change her mental direction, but Annie refused to stop and pushed forward, describing her life between Steven and David, a lonely and confusing time. Barb went in and out of short relationships during those years. Some of them were okay, and some were outright dangerous. From fear, loneliness, and confusion she blindly walked right into another marriage hoping to erase all traces of Steven. His name was David. An officer in the Marine Corps, David initially presented himself as the answer to all her prayers. In the beginning she had been sure that David was so different. When she first met him, he seemed perfect – attractive and charming. He was everything she ever wished for. He immediately knew her feelings, her thoughts, and her needs. He complimented and praised her, listening intently to her every word. For just a second she held those warm feelings close to help thaw out her body.
Awareness of the truth surfaced, and her mood sank like a rock in a pond. He lied to me. He lied all those years. Oh, at first I was smitten. Then images of David’s change flashed through her mind. Bit by bit all his positive traits faded into brutality and contempt. She harbored a few nice memories of those initial days that helped her hold on to during the horrifying years that followed. The truth was that her second marriage was no better than the first; they were mirror images. In a lot of ways David was slicker than Steven. Once David had gathered the information he needed on Barb, he turned her history back on her and used it to control her. She remembered how he changed right before her eyes. Fear, threats, physical punishment, rape, and deprivation became his tools for dealing with her. He was always obsessed with getting his point across. He thought it kept the relationship strong, orderly. “David’s way or the highway” was his motto. “A good wife is an obedient wife.” His madness increased each year, and he achieved even higher levels of control over her. His vicious behavior far surpassed Steven’s in cruelty. Devoid of a heart, he never viewed Barb as anything more than a thing, an object, something to own.
Barb felt trapped in her own thinking. She tried many times to regain control of her thoughts but to no avail; her mind was controlling her. It was the voice in the left side of Barb’s brain that pushed her into a deep state of self-doubt and self-judgment.
No one ever understood the massive feelings of loss and emptiness that radiated from Barb’s core. When she was small and inquisitive, she never ventured into her core out of fear of what she would find. Years later, older and more wounded, she dared to go there. She searched and searched the area, finding nothing but wreckage from old emotional battles strewn everywhere. Her core, once the seat of her human qualities, was empty, scorched by battles, neglected and abandoned. Now only the ghostly faces of fear and anxiety roamed the deserted land. As a result of that venture she had pledged never to return.
Great reflections breed great questions, she thought. No one ever understood why she always had to have a man. It was the only way she knew how to get self- validation. To her being unattached meant loneliness and nothingness. It was that nagging emptiness that propelled her into desperate relationships. “You must fill the emptiness at all costs. A woman is nothing without a man,” she remembered what her mother had said over and over. Barb had a driving need to find the right person to fill her inner void, yet her constant need for love and affection was never fulfilled through any of her relationships. At the beginning of each new one, she thought she had found the “right one,” thought that man knew exactly what she craved. In every relationship her judgment failed and backfired. All she ever wanted was to be valued by another human being, to be loved and to be found good enough. It was not to be. She had never attained love.
Disconnecting from such distressing thoughts, she indiscriminately grabbed for anything else she could concentrate on that would allow her to numb out and lose touch with her body, but instead Barb breathed deeply, pulling herself slowly back into reality.
If David knew I was going to a treatment center, he’d fly into another one of his rages and kill me for sure this time. Barb instinctively understood that if he learned how she had betrayed him there would be nothing to stop him from punishing her severely. There was no going back. She physically slumped at the realization.
Barb recklessly fought to keep her hold on reality. She wanted to be conscious of sitting in the passenger seat, knowing she was safe and not back in the past. Suddenly a foreboding voice sent streams of white heat up her spine.” Surprise,” the foreboding voice whispered. The voice had been emanating from the left side of her brain and been present in her head since she was a young girl. The inescapable, doom-laden voice monitored her every move. It criticized her every word, contradicted her every thought, mocked every judgment and doubted every emotion. She had no authority over it. The voice directed all her feelings and behavior toward herself and her world, and any noncompliance was met with brutal consequences. She cringed from its sound.
“You better turn around! I command you. Don’t dare me again! Go back before I kill you, slut,” the voice threatened.
“I can’t turn back,” Barb’s shaky voice chimed in. “My husband will hurt me, or worse, kill me. I will not let myself be held down or crippled any more, or live in fear of being murdered.” Terror rose higher the more she resisted the threatening words being hurled at her. She forced her mind to escape back into her sanctuary. She no longer had any semblance of control. The voice had taken away even the least feelings of power and confidence she had. Barb was out of her league, so she cognitively retreated from yet another battle all broken and bruised. Needing to tend her wounds, she limped toward a place of protection. Maybe some safe time would help her mend. Practice told her that the deeper she withdrew into her mind, the easier it was for her to protect herself from further emotional damage.
“Let me take control for a while.” Annie’s voice overrode Barb’s thoughts. “I can help you. I won’t take that shit from him.” Annie was originally produced to be wild, rebellious, and strong. She was the dark side of Barb’s invalid thinking. In a crazy way Annie always took her father’s side. Yet she was always there for Barb when needed.
There were other times when Annie would take over control of Barb’s body and make it perform bold, independent deeds. Prevented from controlling herself, Barb cringed in fear of what was happening to her body. Annie spent most of her time in the shadows of Barb’s mind, separated from the light. Annie symbolized the physical part of her that her father was after. When the body pain got too great, she stepped in to take Barb’s place.
While crawling into the safety of her dark inner sanctuary to recuperate, Barb became aware that her body was functioning on its own. Viewing her body from inside her protected place, she witnessed her hand reaching for the cigarette pack on the dashboard.
“No! What are you doing? I hate smoking!” Barb yelled from deep inside her mind.
“But I love it, and you can’t stop me! I’m the boss now,” replied Annie, who then turned to Sandy. “Can we stop at a bar for a drink? I could really use one.” Sandy reacted with surprise at the radical shift in the attitude and voice of the woman beside her. She dismissed the irrational question and returned her attention to driving the car.
Far inside her sanctuary, Barb lay nursing her wounds. She reflected on how much Annie had increased her strength and assumed greater command of her mind and body. Most of the time Annie’s methods were inappropriate, but effective. Many times her behavior was downright aggressive, and with her father Annie could never hold her tongue. Barb always had a lot of explaining to do after Annie had been present and in control.
Barb’s war-torn defenses were weakening. Her boundaries were being breached more and more frequently, and each time her pain grew. Barb had relied on Annie regularly in her childhood. She knew Annie’s impulsive actions stemmed from love, but it didn’t always feel like that. Annie’s original mission was to contain the pain and lighten Barb’s burden.
Initially Annie had not always been Barb’s supporter. Barb had big trouble with her behaviors and reacted negatively toward her. Their relationship was based on conflict. Barb reflected back on all the episodes of binge drinking Annie got involved in. Annie’s excessive alcoholic consumption resulted in a devastating DUI arrest two years ago. She didn’t care at all, but it took all Barb’s savings to pay off the lawyer. Without willful effort to retrieve any memories form that period, images flashed before her eyes. David’s disapproving face appeared first. Once they were home, David’s disapproval vanished into rage. He had beaten her senseless after bailing her out of jail. Barb had tried to convince him that she didn’t drink and had no recollection of having done so. “It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!” David beat her that whole next day and took great pleasure in refusing to believe her. He was extremely sadistic. He hurt her in many ways both physically and sexually. He killed her spirit that day. But no matter what he did to Barb, he never gained any leverage over Annie. Barb protected Annie with her silence. She could still summon up the words that David uttered while beating her. “You lying bitch.” Horrible images still rich in emotion remained alive.
Interrupted by another gruesome image, she saw her father’s face, and it knocked her off balance mentally. In a flash of awareness she finally connected with the fact that her two husbands were just like her father. All of them refused her any compassion or relief. Complete control of Barb was their main goal. None allowed her independent thought, feeling, or behavior that would permit her to escape physically and numb herself emotionally. She was just an object to them to be used any way they fancied. It became evident through the years that they wanted Annie not her. Annie possessed all the attributes that the three of them wanted to steal from her. Annie was wild and had passionate fire within her. If they could capture those attributes then they would be fully dominate. Barb stopped comparing herself to Annie and released her mind as she took a deep breath.
Still allowing Annie to remain out front, Barb floated in a false sense of immunity within her sanctuary. She turned her attention toward a snapshot of herself as a small girl huddled in the corner of a dark closet. I don’t recall that. Momentarily in denial she avoided its familiarity. Barb examined it further, cutting off all other distractions and straining to clear the image. Annie. It’s Annie! For the first time in her memory she saw Annie’s face. But Annie’s expression worried Barb; it showed the forbidden emotion of anger.
Tearing her gaze from the picture and not wanting to deal with her latent anger, Barb opted to monitor for protection instead. She scanned the horizon of her internal asylum. Protecting self while physically recuperating was her goal at the moment. Barb stood ever on guard against any possible unknown intruders. Fatigue began to eat at her while her defense mechanisms remained on full alert. She fully expected them to operate at their maximum level. She turned her gaze toward her outer perimeter, seeking to catch sight of her point sentry at his station. Instinct told her to stop checking and simply trust that the sentry was alert and performing his duties, but she couldn’t. Trust? Huh! Barb’s boundaries had been breached so many times that her core perimeter resembled Swiss cheese. Another trauma could occur at any point and completely devastate her. Barb never really recovered from the first terrorizing episode she had suffered as a child. Each battle disarmed or destroyed portions of her defense system. Many times her defenses had been caught off guard. She vowed to never to allow that to happen again. Her ragtag army patrols every day, and she monitors all information and prepares continuously for another attack. Like a faded old photo she carries a list of all the attacks. Barb has achieved master status at hyper vigilance. She even monitors the air for any scent of danger as a wild animal would.
Tucked safely in her private bunker, Barb found herself caught in a mental quagmire and recognized what those repeated inward journeys had cost. Annie was now in command of her mental life. Barb wondered whether she had lost the ability to regain authority over her own body and destiny. Deep down she instinctively knew that she didn’t need help. She could do it alone yet without dominance and control over the rebellious Annie, she’d miss the last window of opportunity for healing. Barb wouldn’t allow Annie to keep her away from another hospital. It was a given that out of loyalty to David Annie had some kind of plan to sabotage her admission. She would run back to David for more pain and punishment. Worry sunk into her consciousness, Annie is in control. Annie was notorious for obstructing any attempt at recovery. For her, betrayal was simply not an option.
“I feel better now,” Barb told Annie. Barb became quiet waiting for a reply. None came forth. “Please allow me to take back control of myself. Let me back!” Barb began to plead, but Annie rebuffed her. “You are a weak and stupid little girl. There’s not a chance in hell that you can handle what you’ve gotten us into!”
“Don’t destroy my last chance at a normal life, you bitch!” Barb spoke in anger. Annie merely laughed. “You’re as weak and worthless as they all said.” Her raucous laughter grew louder in Barb’s head until she felt an upsurge of unbridled wrath at her tormentor. “Stop laughing at me. I’ll never let you drag me back to him. If you can’t take it, then leave!” Barb caught sight of a barrage of anger emanating from Annie’s arsenal. Annie and her entitled attitude were not ready to let go of power.
The unexpected mental skirmish distracted Annie’s attention enough for Barb to try regaining control over her body. Gathering every ounce of willpower, she leaped at the opportunity. She caught Annie off guard, causing her to dissipate like mist in sunlight. Barb suddenly realized she’d been successful and was back in reality, though she was in the midst of a panic episode and gasping for air. “I did it!” She cheered for herself. Firmly grasping the dashboard, she held tightly to her grip on the present. Energy spent, she sat quietly, absorbing the calm that followed the successful battle with Annie.
Physically exhausted she laid her head back against the headrest and expanded her lungs to bring in a supply of oxygen to rejuvenate her brain.
Minutes later she slipped into sleep. Unknown to Barb, a dark storm front began to build deep in her mind. Relaxed, she dreamed of a brilliant blue sky, warm sunlight, and a cool breeze. It seemed just like the day of her eleventh birthday party. Overhead, billowy white clouds brought a feeling of inner peace and freedom as they traveled gently through her sleeping brain. But the approaching grayness deepened, and the wind increased. All the vital elements were uniting to form a whirlpool of twisting, colliding clouds in her mind, spitting flashes of electricity.
The storm continued its growth. Even in her sleep Barb sensed its power. With every lightning strike she saw images of people, places, and objects from her forbidden past that she was not suppose to see. The images seemed totally foreign, but the attached pain and fear felt as common as the sun in the morning. They rendered her vulnerable - powerless and defenseless. The relaxing sleep became paralyzing. Frozen as if coated with ice, she was forced to watch the parade of horrible, broken pictures from her childhood, never opened up to her before. Frustration encircled her. Morning’s light was the only thing that could stop the insane process. Relief lay just on the other side of sleep, but she thought for a second that she wouldn’t be able to reach it. Wake up. Wake up right now she commanded, as she fought for conscious control. Reality for her had always been unsafe, but now so was sleep. No more! No more! She screamed.
“We’re not that far away,” Sandy said to be reassuring. Unfortunately Barb’s mind never received the message. It was too late; she had already turned her attention to analyzing the scenes that had bombarded her while she slept. There had to be an answer to her sorrow in them. She had to focus on the images and fight for consciousness at the same time. She realized that she had been the most disconnected she’d ever been from her physical self. The key has to be here, she thought, but I have to wake up first.
Barb awoke, frightened at the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. Disoriented and startled, she grabbed her face to verify that she still was in control of her body. She found herself huddled against the cold car door, held upright only by her seat belt. She made the effort to regain her composure before she turned to look at Sandy, whose tenderly warm and supportive hand was pressing against her shoulder.
Since she first began entertaining thoughts of treatment again, Barb had been steadily separating more often from her body and losing more time. Treatment always brought on depression, fear, anxiety, and cruel reflections of past pain. Other people were increasingly aware of her unrelenting depression, and asked too many questions. She was unable to hide the devastating effect of the surfacing symptoms of past abuse. She had grown so tired of fighting, both inside and outside herself that she finally accepted the idea of being broken – defective and damaged beyond repair. She was drowning in misery and too tired to engage in the ritual dance with her symptoms. She had to do something. She decided to give in, reach out for help and work the treatment no matter the cost. Every nerve in her body throbbed as they traveled ever closer to the hospital.
A cutting voice derailed Barb’s train of thought as Annie interrupted. “You know once those charlatans find out you’re crazy, they’ll lock you up and throw away the key! You’ll never get out!” Fear climbed up Barb’s spine like a scared cat scaling a tree. She quickly wiped away the waxy sweat that beaded her upper lip, hoping that Sandy wouldn’t see she was reacting to an internal voice.
“You can’t do this! Don’t be a fool!” Annie said. “It isn’t normal to have a voice talking in your head. They won’t understand and won’t listen. They’ll hurt you just the way the others did. Bitch, get her to stop this car now!” Annie warned. Barb attempted to quell her meddling racket by clenching her teeth, but Annie’s voice slipped through.
“If you follow through with this stupid idea, he’ll hurt you again. This time David will kill you for sure, just the way your father almost did.” For the first time Barb saw that Annie was holding out on her just as she had kept secrets from her throughout childhood. For a second Barb recoiled in fear before pushing her shoulders back and raising her head. “Tell me what you know Annie, tell me right now!” She crossed her arms over her chest and embraced the silence while waiting for an answer, but none came. Five minutes passed, and her anxiety nearly doubled. She started to cringe as though she had done something wrong.
“I beg of you!” Barb appealed, using a different approach with a softer tone. Her anxiety increased when there was still no answer. Her pulse quickened as she frantically searched her mental files for bits and pieces of childhood scenes. She had to discover all the buried memories so Annie couldn’t blackmail her with them. Maybe I missed something. The frenzied search produced nothing useable. Pain pierced the right side of her face as the vision of a heavy oak closet door opening crashed into her consciousness. She had a physical sensation of being dragged toward it. The weight of the images sat heavily upon her chest, and all the air escaped from her lungs. “Here’s your answer,” taunted Annie. Barb had the sensation of a large hand pressing on her private parts. Gasping, Barb tried to regroup. She set her feet against the floorboard of the car and forced air back into her lungs. No, that cannot be him, he wouldn’t. Tears formed in her eyes. She took a moment and just sat, paralyzed, recharging her batteries.
With her external vision monitoring reality while she dealt with Annie, Barb caught a glimpse of a roadside blue hospital sign. It read fifteen miles. She had little time left to decode the mental visions. She turned her focus back inside her head. That wasn’t real. I made it up, she told herself, increasing her denial. The pain continued to expand. Annie reached out from within the darkest cavern of Barb’s mind and confirmed her worst fears. “Yes, your own father. He did it and did it often” Annie said.
“You didn’t make it up. That’s a bad joke. It all happened, and you left me there. You ran away. I loved you, Barb, and you abandoned me. I took it all” Annie stated. “You left me with Daddy and let him hurt me. He hurt me bad. The next day you acted as if it never happened.” Even worse, you denied my existence. You just plain rejected me.” Barb’s chin dropped to her chest from the shock of what she was hearing. Had I hated myself that much? Did I disown myself?
The car slowed and turned into the long driveway. It traveled to the entrance in the back of the large, two-story building. A sign read: Admissions.
“Barb, we’re here!” Sandy, her longtime friend who’d been driving, uttered with a sense of achievement.
What was left of Barb just sat there motionless and unresponsive.
Chapter 2
Pain
With Annie’s words still ringing in ears, Barb sat still as the noise of the engine stopped. Sandy patted her arm. “You wait here, and I’ll make sure this is the right place,” she said.
Barb watched her friend walk up the flower bordered sidewalk and disappear through a nondescript entrance. Anxious and scared, she remained obediently in the car for what seemed hours but in reality were only minutes. Maybe it’s not such a good idea. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I made a horrible decision, doubt invaded her thoughts. Did I make the right decision? Should I run? She turned toward the driver’s side, and her eyes locked on the ignition. Shit, no keys. She frantically searched for another means of escape.
Barb shifted in her seat so she could see through the big glass entrance door. Safety was always a dominant concern. Will I be safe?
“You don’t have to do this.” Annie spoke in an unusually soft and supportive manner and broke in on her thoughts. “Great, another country heard from. So you’ve returned.” Barb jabbed at her.
“Don’t kid around. This is serious,” Annie begged. “You’re about to be locked up again. Have you forgotten the pain at the last hospital?” she asked.
Just the mention of hospitals triggered Barb’s memory and sent her back in time. She reflected on how she’d been dealt with. This time wouldn’t be her first admission into a treatment facility, but she had had been able to construct a veil of denial around the past to keep her secrets hidden from others and also from herself. Barb was the good little girl who always protected the family name. That loyalty cost her more than it ever did the others. Instead of finding safety or protection at the hospitals, she encountered disbelief, disillusionment, and more trauma and misunderstanding. No one ever understood. With each admission Barb experienced an increase in the intensity of her internal upheaval and had less ability to hide her symptoms from the outside world. A surge of angry feelings surfaced, leading her to confront Annie.
“Many of my past visits to the funny farm are your fault, if you remember correctly.”
Waves of bright images of her other admissions began to dance across Barb’s mental screen. She gathered her thoughts. On the eve of this new admission, she had many more bits of childhood memories and adult traumas than she’d had during her last hospitalizations. “It was you who wouldn’t stop drinking.”
“Do you blame me?” Annie retorted.
“Shut up and let me talk,” Barb said. Then she grimaced as she reviewed the severity of past experiences in hospitals from storage areas deep within the caverns of her mind. “It was you who attacked that storekeeper. It was you who always stole things. It was you who picked up all those men and acted out for your own gratification. It was you who always pissed off David.” She also recalled graphic accounts of all the acting-out behaviors Annie used to cut off Barb’s pain. “It was me, so what,” Annie admitted.
Barb’s concept of time collapsed under the weight of endless scary images. The all too familiar picture show seemed to have no beginning, no end, and no boundaries. These haunting images had invaded every aspect of her life and reduced her ability to function. The frequency of such episodes had increased twofold every year since her thirtieth birthday. She never told anyone her true perceptions or the secrets she held about her abuse, her life, or herself. Barb marveled for a second at how she’d taken care of a home, a child, and a job while hiding her pain from everyone.
Keeping pain at bay became all-consuming. The effort to control the repetitive, intrusive episodes for so many years drained off every last drop of her energy and strength. Things eventually reached a point where she was unable to carry out any of her responsibilities. She could no longer pretend the pain had finally won.
Denial came to the rescue. Barb’s right hand unconsciously scratched at the dry skin on her left elbow, the movement allowed her to protect her chest against possible attack. She felt empty and worthless. I guess I got the type of life I deserved. Head bowed in defeat, her lonely figure remained motionless in the car. She was jerked back to consciousness by the opening of the car door.
“It’s okay; you can come in now. This is the right place,” Sandy said. Barb took a deep breath and climbed out. Hyper vigilance flaring, she continued to find her surroundings suspect, her walk slowed and labored. A smiling stranger held the door as she stepped through the hospital’s entrance. She froze in mid step as she registered the agonizing sound of the door’s bolt sliding noisily into the steel frame that surrounded it.
It’s done Barb sighed, remembering the words her father had yelled at her throughout her life: “You’re crazy.” Now the clicking bolt confirmed her worse fears; she was truly crazy.
Barb quickly scanned the cold, lifeless sitting room that lay in front of her. Her senses were functioning at an acute protection level. She found the air musty and the light too brilliant. The furniture was worn by the hundreds of human bodies that had sat there, and a yellow film of age dimmed the brightness of the white walls. The floor was highly polished to hide the phantom path created by all the hurting souls who paraded past the admission desk. She breathed in the sterile smell covering the stench of fear.
“If you would take a seat, I’ll be with you as fast as possible.” Barb took a step back as the unnoticed figure from behind the admission desk addressed her. Unable to respond, she moved swiftly to the dilapidated couch set against the far wall. It would give her the best vantage point from which to monitor the room. She scanned the area to reassure herself that she was safe. Barb sat there, expressionless, and frozen, determined to contain the emotional upheaval rising inside her. Her mind reviewed the events that had occurred during her trip to the hospital. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d experienced such a concentrated assault by recollections. Something deep inside didn’t want her to be admitted. As fear increased she began to twist into the position of a child waiting to be punished. The chill of isolation wrapped itself around her like a familiar blanket. Sitting alone for an extended period stretched her patience thin. The admission process was an impersonal and time-consuming task. Feelings of being trapped filled Barb’s mind. She rejected such thoughts, knowing they would make her uncomfortable.
Barb had been walking a fine line between sanity and insanity for many years. Being a wife made her feel like an acrobat performing on a high wire. One slip, one incorrect move, and it might be her last. Her second husband allowed no room for imperfection. Day after day it grew harder to keep her balance. Constantly anticipating failure, she’d given up on achieving success or pleasing David. He was never satisfied. Barb glanced at the emergency exit door numerous times, a need to escape stirring within her. “Go ahead, do it! Run! They couldn’t catch you!” Annie shouted at her. Barb’s muscles tightened, preparing her body to flee. Was this her time for recovery? Maybe she’d misjudged herself. Could she fight the pain this time or respond as she had in the other programs and continue to hide her secrets. She wondered how she’d tolerate the therapist’s constant observation and invasion of her inner world. Would the program help her violent pain or make her withdraw as all the others had? Could anyone stop her need to isolate herself? She shook her head vigorously to interrupt the flow of those thoughts. The self-questioning had to end before it turned into a full-blown emotional blaming cycle. Barb spoke to herself with a sense of urgency. I will survive. My phony life of lies has to stop now.
Barb continued to sit motionless like a stone gargoyle on a building. Locked in time, her mind reflected warmly on her only true friend. Once her worst enemy, Annie had been transformed into a companion, a valuable confederate - an ally who was always there for her, especially when her father locked her in the closet. She had created Annie in her mind to be ever present, ever consistent. But somehow Annie grew in strength as her father’s abuse increased. She was the only marker Barb had to let her know she was surviving the torture she endured. Annie performed many services. She held all the pain and negative emotions Barb was unable to integrate. She helped her deny what had been happening during her childhood.
Annie was that aspect of herself that helped keep her equilibrium. Without her, Barb’s ability to adapt and function would have been impossible. At times her father and husbands had used Annie against her, yet it was Annie who pulled her through the most violent episodes. Barb counted on her to be a shield to ward off pain.
Barb giggled to herself at the idea of creating Annie. She used her skillfully, but thinking of her now helped Barb confirm the paradox she found herself in. Barb had traveled all this distance for a chance at recovery and freedom. The program was an opportunity to stop being controlled by her intrusive posttraumatic symptoms. She was coming to the hospital to embrace a new method that might mean a fresh beginning, another start, and a chance for heath. That she might loose Annie in the process brought on a flash of fear, but if her efforts were successful, they wouldn’t walk out of the program together.
Barb closed her eyes, trying to separate herself from reality and a wave of negativism. The possibility of escape raged in her mind. Run streamed across her mental screen. She slapped the left side of her head and countered with, Stop reacting in fear. You’re here to get better. Then self-doubts set in again. Why am I so inconsiderate, so selfish, only thinking of me? How can I just let Annie go when she has been such a loyal companion? Do I really want to exist without the only person I know? How much longer can I last like this? Doubts bounced of her mental walls, and fighting them let confusion invade Barb’s mind. All possible answers seemed to be blocked. Suddenly hyper vigilance rose from the flames of that confusion, and Barb’s primitive need to escape grew stronger. Her eyes darted back and forth behind half-closed lids while her body cringed.
Feeling physically confined as an onslaught of images flashed by, Barb recalled the first time she neutralized pain without Annie. It started with an innocent dare from a blind date at a fraternity party. That night, drinking was her attempt to fit in socially, but Barb had not been ready for the numbing effect alcohol had on her pain. She didn’t need Annie. Her first solo feeling of independence was fake, a chemical reaction. But as Barb advanced in age, Annie’s strength advanced also. After that Annie stepped in and adopted alcohol as her own throughout Barb’s college years. The more Barb drank, the less effect it had on her companion, so she raised the stakes by combining alcohol with various drugs to bring back her original experience of freedom. To her peers she seemed to consume any available chemical in the name of socializing. Inwardly Barb was on a mission to separate herself from Annie, yet Annie seemed to navigated around the chemical walls of numbness and take over. Annie became the life of the party crowd, while Barb continued to seek newer and newer combinations of drugs. What she thought would be a chemical savior turned out to provide only a false front. It seemed that times free of her companion grew shorter and shorter. In those days Barb worked hard to escape her. In spite of all her efforts, the next morning Annie was there when she awoke. Barb could escape situations and people in her mind but never Annie.
All through college and until she was twenty-eight, the tug of war between them developed into a no-win situation. No matter how far Barb attempted to run, how inappropriate her behaviors were, or how many chemicals she ingested Annie remained ever-present. What Barb finally understood was that in uniting with Annie, she was able to achieve a higher level of numbness when facing the violent punishment inflicted by each husband. The penalty for her numb-seeking behavior was addiction to alcohol, drugs, and risky behavior patterns that got out of control. As sick as it may sound, Barb remembered enjoying the effects of multiple addictions. Now, sitting in the admission area, she finally understood that the dangerous game she played with her pain had to stop, or she would die. Barb’s vigilant third eye warned her of an approaching figure clad in white. She didn’t even raise her head to look, but her hands turned cold and wet.
“Would you like to come with me?” the nurse said. I’ll start your admission. Barb rose and followed her without question, staring at the back of the nurse’s white shoes. She was escorted into a small room and asked to sit in front of a desk. She was uneasy with the closeness of the walls. Her heart rate accelerated. In the room’s dim light the uniformed figure of the nurse reminded her of the reason she’d made the long trek to the hospital.
“So why are you here?” The nurse asked beginning the assessment interview. Barb’s posture became as erect as if she were a prisoner defending herself against an accusing interrogator. She had just spent the five hours of the trip reviewing her past, and here she was being asked to face it all over again. Barb took care to answer the nurse’s questions in very general and evasive terms.
Annie whispered within Barb’s head, “Don’t tell her anything. She doesn’t care what you think. She’ll only believe you’re crazy. You’re a fool. Sudden insanity has made you forget what will happen if you go through with this.”
“What are you, blind?” Barb answered. “I’m already dead. This is my final chance. If it doesn’t work out we’ll both be dead. I can’t live this way anymore.” She turned her attention back to the admission nurse and hoped for some validation. She searched the woman’s face, looking for a modicum of understanding of her internal battle and saw no negative responses there.
As the interrogation continued, the nurse’s questions centered on Barb’s childhood. Searching her memories made her jumpy. She felt as if the walls were moving in on her. All of a sudden the idea of safety leaped into her consciousness. Will they protect me or not? Do I take a chance? A rapid, chaotic hunt started in her brain for an answer to the question of how not to get disappointed or hurt again. The pace of her thoughts began to accelerate. Her mind intercepted an urgent message from her body to run.
“Get away before the nurse realizes you’re nuts and locks us up for good,” Annie whispered. Barb grew extremely annoyed at her attempt to take control. It wasn’t the time to get into an internal argument with her. The nurse was only four feet away and looking right into her eyes. Barb’s head was pounding. Her level of fear increased as she fought off the desire to take refuge in her sacred internal territory and withdraw from reality. Her right leg started bouncing up and down involuntarily. She leaned her arm hard on her right thigh to cover up its jerky movement.