Peter: The Little Girl in the Wall

First published as Wild Kingdom on April 14, 2015.

Warning: The content may be triggering.

Lions stalk the plains of Africa, roaring and eating up deer, then the Rock of Gibraltar appears behind a man that lights a cigarette and promises money to people that die.

“That’s the strength of the rock!” he says.

Peter thinks about the little girl with scissors.

Mother says she hides in the walls until she hears a little
boy talking too much.

Then she pops out, holds him down, and cuts out his tongue!

Mother says the little girl has scissors as long as Father’s arms.

But the little girl can’t hear a drawing, Peter thinks.

Mother’s in the kitchen having coffee with Earline.

Earline is the lady that lives next door.

Mother says Earline is PG.

Peter goes into the kitchen to show Earline his pictures of
people with breasts.

Earline blushes and says what a little man Peter’s become.

Mother heaves a burdened sigh and shakes her head, “He’s so difficult Earline! One of his uncle’s gave him a book about the natives of Africa; now he draws tits on everything.”

Mother smiles patiently at Peter: “Go to the living room, sweetheart and we’ll look at your drawings later.”

Peter returns to the living room. where the flies chase each other around his chair: one of them drifts sluggishly to the floor.

Peter snatches it up and rips off it’s wings.

Then he drops it to the floor to see what a fly without wings can do.

A screenshot of VR avatars staged to represent a child alternate named Peter, a protector alternate named Bobby and a storyteller alternate named the Narrator
A screenshot of avatars staged to represent a child alternate named Peter, a protector alternate named Bobby, and a storyteller named the Narrator. Please click this link for an explanation of alternates and their function.
(c) Rob Goldstein 2017 All Rights Reserved

Know Thyself

Several patterns play themselves out in my life.

Each one is a link to some aspect of my childhood that either is either a scar
or is a source of salvation.

If insanity is repeating the same mistake with the hope of a different outcome, than I have been completely insane since childhood.

One of these insane patterns is that of seeking out and hooking up with narcissistic women.

There are other patterns based on the community in which I was raised: the racism, the antisemitism, the homophobia and the static class system as it existed for people at the very bottom.

These patterns of repetition became especially pronounced when I stopped working and entered therapy.

Psychotherapy means dredging up memories that I want buried under a mountain of distraction and denial.

I often go to therapy in a state of emotional distress, walking through panic attacks and other flight or fight reactions.

The literature I’ve read regarding the treatment of trauma and dissociation states Psychotherapy as essential for successfully resolving a complex trauma disorders.

Cognitive approaches teach people to manage distress but they won’t resolve Complex-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

***

Based on a 1922 photograph of Freud in the Public Domain

The patients’ job during intensive psychotherapy is to ask why.

Why do I seek out women who are devoid of the capacity for love?

Why do I veer from an extreme identification with the middle class to an extreme identification with the poor?

Why do I force myself to fail economically just as I get closest to winning?

Accepting the option to ‘know thyself’ means living in a perpetual state of brutal self-questioning.

Why do I sometimes behave as if I hate myself?

I first grappled with the problem of internalized stigma during the early days of the AIDS epidemic when I wondered if the epidemic was God’s judgment.

None of the intellectual and political constructions that served me as gay activist in the 1970’s could defeat the internalized homophobia that AIDS unleashed.

I watched men die from grief, self-hatred and fear.

I was nearly one of them.

This was when I realized the true function of any ‘ism’ is to convince the target to self destruct.

This was why any novel written about gays before Stonewall usually ended with the suicide or the impoverished death of the main character.

AIDS was the greatest tragic ending, fraught with the dissonant myth of a loving, yet angry and vengeful God.


Internalized homophobia was the least of my problems.

AIDS was trauma on trauma.

I did not know that I had a dissociative disorder.

I did not know that I was living in the worst possible place at the worst possible time for someone with DID.

The political climate in San Francisco coupled with the fear brought on by the epidemic fueled a political backlash against the gay community.

Increased fag bashing was a trigger.

Friends who were healthy one week and dead the next were triggers.

Any spot on my arm sent me into panic, so much so that I became a frequent flyer at the local clinics, which eventually gave me a prescription for Xanax.

Xanax
                                 Xanax

I did not know that Xanax was addictive; I only knew that it made the fear go away.

The straight psychiatrists I saw  were completely removed from the Gay Community and the AIDS epidemic and didn’t understand why the panicked
patient whose friends were all dying was so distressed and unstable.

The pharmaceutical industry reported that Xanax had an anti-depressant effect.

By 1986 I was on a prescribed dose of eight milligrams a day.


Everything that happens during the course of Psychotherapy is a representation of the trauma, its affect your life, and the meaning of your symptoms.

For adult survivors of abuse a common theme in therapy is mistrust and the fear of forming an attachment.

DID allows a part of me to make friends and to form an attachment while protecting the parts of me that are fragile and afraid.

My task in treatment is to intentionally make all of myself vulnerable to another person; in my case, a woman therapist, since most of the damage was done by my Mother.

This process of building trust with a woman who wants what’s best for me and who acts in my interests is the path to becoming whole.


In the Hell of my childhood nothing about me was acceptable.

I was a show-off, too sensitive, too feminine, too much of everything that people in my ‘class’ had no right to be.

In the world of my childhood, God rewards the Godly with a good Christian family, white skin; and money.

A lowly birth meant your place in God’s plan was bondage.

The idea that all Americans have a right to a stake in the wealth of our nation was deemed an absurd fiction, a delusion foisted on good people by damned Yankees.


 

John C. Calhoun Homes
                                                      John C. Calhoun Homes

 

***

Children instinctively want to please their parents; it’s an evolutionary adaptation that enhances survival.

The double bind for an abused child is that the only behavior that pleases the parent is an abdication of the self.

As I enter my fourth year of intensive psychotherapy the questions I must answer become more confounding and painful.

But at least I know what they are have the strength I need to ask them.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2017
The Photo of Xanax found on Google Images

First posted November 1, 2015-updated November 8, 2017 – After 7 years
of psychotherapy and I’m pleased to say I’m getting better.

 

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Who Profits from Child Abuse?

Warning: potentially triggering.

Anger is a powerful and potentially cleansing emotion.

Or it can make one feel so speechless with self loathing that
you can only express your rage and shame with para-suicidal
behaviors.

Anger wants to know why and sometimes the truth is too terrible.

The rape of a child is a moral offense so grave that it corrupts everyone involved, including the child, who must distort his perceptions of reality to normalize the assault on his soul.

The sight of institutional child abuse incites the enraged sense of injustice that lodges in my heart as an adult survivor of abuse.

Imagine trying to comprehend the enablers of your abuse with a
toddler’s mind.

This is from Think Progress:

“Robert H. Richards IV does not work. He doesn’t have to. The great-grandson of Irénée du Pont, the chemical magnate who provided much of the financial backing to a failed effort to defeat Franklin Delano Roosevelt during the 1930s, Richards lives off a trust fund in a 5,800 square foot mansion he bought for $1.8 million. When he is not staying in his mansion, he might be found in his beach home “in the exclusive North Shores neighborhood near Rehoboth Beach.”

Richards is also a child rapist.

In 2005, Richards started sexually abusing his three year-old daughter.

“The abuse ended two years later when the girl told her grandmother that she didn’t want “my daddy touching me anymore.”

When Richards’ former wife confronted him about this abuse, Richards admitted to doing so but claimed “it was an accident and he would never do it again.”

And yet, Robert Richards, who raped his own child and then told her not to tell anyone so that it could be “our little secret,” will likely not spend a day in prison.

….the maximum sentence for fourth-degree rape is 15 years in prison, the prosecution recommended that Richards only receive probation. And Judge Jan, in her sentencing order, said Richards “will not fare well” if he is sentenced to prison.”

We can expect nothing better from a legal system that favors property over life and human rights.

We slather a media confection over the merciless stone of GOP
economic feudalism and accept it as Democracy.

Even a daughter of privilege cannot escape her status as property.

Imagine that you are three feet tall and weigh 25 pounds.

Imagine that a huge man who weighs 200 pounds penetrates
your body.

You have no words to describe it.

You don’t even know what you are.

Your brain decides that it is dying and  instinctively dissociates.

This is how Dissociative Identity Disorder happens.

Gender is not the issue.

When an adult male rapes a child of three the child’s brain interprets
the pain of penetration as a deathblow.

How could no one have known?

How many people were in on the “little secret” and did nothing?

How does one understand that the damage done to your body and psyche was preventable?

And if this can happen to a child of privilege, what’s happening happening to children in homeless’ shelters?

Who profits from their abuse?

Photograph of an advertisement for the San Francisco Food Bank at the Haight and Fillmore muni stop in San Francisco
Who profits from Childhood hunger?

 

RG 2014-2017

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