Life As A Multiple

 

As children grow up, they are supposed to mature.  I didn’t do that educationally.  Children learn to think, they learn vocabulary words and what they mean, they begin to understand concepts, they make parallels, and a number of other things.  When someone is sexually molested from a very young age, in my case 3 years old, threatened with death if they tell, and then when they begin to learn are once again threatened with death if they learn, this shuts that person down.  They fear learning for they know they will die.

With that, add to the fact that I was also a slave keeping our house clean from top to bottom and without enough to eat causing me to be in the 25th percentile in weight of girls my age, I was broken, shattered.  I spent my days/nights numb, empty, in fear.  This was my life.  This is why I became a multiple.  This is also why I am only now, at 45 really starting to learn because I no longer fear death if I do.  I learned some things growing up, yes; however, I did not learn so many things.

My vocabulary suffers terribly and what someone may say to me I don’t understand which causes me to have to ask.  Sometimes that person is willing to tell me or explain to me and at other times, they walk away.  I often feel very dumb, very isolated, and very left out.  Imagine being a system of over 25 people, all different ages, and the havoc that creates.  I can be 45 one minute and the next 10.  I may be Crystal, who is 8 one minute and the next minute Sherry who is 45.

God gave me, according to some, the “Gift of Multiple Personality” so I’d not destroy myself.  I thank Him for that.  Today I’m healing.  Today I’m learning.  Today I’m not fearful of death.  Today I am free.  While I may make wrong assumptions or make wrong parallels, I am learning.  I have truly come a long way.  I truly appreciate those in my life who have stuck with me, loved me in spite of my struggles, and accepted me.  I no longer have to hide and be embarrassed about who I am.  I’m thankful for those who have been patient with me.  One day I truly hope to be a help to those who have been down my road.

I am saddened by the number of people who have lived this kind of life.  We aren’t as rare as we’ve been led to believe either.  We all need to be much kinder to each other.  I’m not “demon” possessed as some would believe.  I’ve been hurt terribly by those who I was supposed to be able to trust.  This is not “humanistic” philosophy but it is what I live with daily.  Thank you to all who help me learn, answer my questions, and are so patient with me.  Thank you from my heart.  I’ve been given a very special love from my Sweetie who loves me totally unconditionally.  He loves me with a love divine at times which is more than I ever thought possible.  From the bottom of my heart Sweetie, I love you!

I am, today, now 47; thus, you can tell this was written two years ago.  I have had the emergence of more little girls since this was written.  This journey truly is one filled with pain, heartache, and difficulty but the freedom that will be mine when it is come to completion, will be so worth it.

Thumbelina & How She Came to Be

 

I’d always loved the story of Thumbelina as a child. It was one of the only fantasy stories I took too. I’d seen a cartoon one time about the tiny girl who grew from a flower. I learned her name, memorizing it, loving it, and identifying with it. You see, I was three years old when I began my journey of abuse. I was 10 years old when I saw the talk at school about boys and girls. I had somewhat understood that when people live together, babies were born. While I didn’t understand the whole “birds and bees” concept completely, I knew enough to know that my abuse would lead to a baby. It didn’t help that my mother went around telling people I was pregnant because I wasn’t menstruating at the normal age; hence, I began to believe there was a baby growing inside who would be born “someday” that belonged to my wicked step-father. When that baby would be born, I never knew but her name would be Thumbelina.

Fast forward to 1997 and 30 years old, after I’d married, after I’d actually had a child, after that spouse had left me, and after I began to heal, even a little, from the life I’d had since birth. I was talking to a friend one day, telling her my deepest thoughts and this deepest secret, a secret no one ever knew before – that I was carrying a little one whose name was Thumbelina, my step-father’s baby. She said to me, “Sherry, you know that is impossible…right?” I looked at her, being the nurse she was, with a blank questioning expression full of vulnerability, wonderment, and anxiousness and shook my head slowly as I said, “No, I didn’t know that.” She hated being the one to tell me, to tell us, that it was impossible.

I’d already had a child so if a child was living inside, that child would have been born. I looked at her with dismay and disbelief as I grappled with what she was telling me. I couldn’t believe it; yet at the same time, I was relieved too. It was a mixed bag and a mixed bag of emotions. All that time, almost 20 years of believing something that was not true because of what I had learned and what my mother had told everyone.

As I heal emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually, educationally, and socially, all the pieces and parts of me and all the personalities inside, heal with me. The name of this blog, “Thumbelina Thinks” is the story of our healing, our journey toward wholeness. It is a journey of hardship growing into a beautiful flower, experiencing freedom from the bondages a little girl was in, not only as a child but as an adult. Learning to think and do it conceptually and critically, basking in the world of words and learning without having to merely just survive, is an exciting adventure for a woman who is in her 40’s. Won’t you come with me as we fly away toward that freedom?