Taming the uncharted - Journey Thread

This is our journey thread. To chart who we are and where we are. It will contain those parts of our paper diary that could possibly benefit from an outside pair of eyes, but not necessarily. You are welcome to comment if you wish.



The Uncharted.

Since our awakening as a system we have been adament that there is not an inside world. That all we have when we are not awake is bad memories. And this is how it has been for the past year. But now I know that this is a lie.
That coming to the front has given us an inside amnesia cut us off from our inside past. Why we were not allowed to remember our inside lives I don't know. How could I have forgotten mine? Perhaps if I had remembered I wouldn't have helped the system, perhaps I would have resented them enough to sabotage things. Perhaps I am only remembering inside now because I have enough invested in the outside world to want to keep the system going.

Having read a few articles about making an inside world I thought tonight I'd have a try. I focused on a picture of a rock formation that has crept up in my art on and off for years though I have never seen it. A rock that T had informed me actually existed and that Peter had visited in real life. A thing therefor we could both visualise. (for rule #1 in the guide to making worlds states - agree on the form of your safe space before starting bigger worlds. Use something at least 2 of you know intermately.) no sooner had I thought of the rock when I was there in our head space, peter was siting under it asking why I had shrunk his rock.
I climbed to the top just to feel the thing I had drawn all these years. The sandstone was rough. I had never know what type of rock this rock had been - the texture was supplied by peter and it was a joy to climb. From the top I could see out and was shocked to see other worlds already in existance. A woodland that I knew somehow belonged to Elspeth. A sea, tempestuous and grey with a spit reaching out into its depths. A patch of quicksand that had a shadow over it that reached right round the rock and touched the fringes of Elspeth's woodland. In the shadow were deeper shadows - as if seeing my gaze peter told me that they were "the bad things what I got to look at when I awake inside" .
I wondered if there was any place for me. Close to the front was a patch that seemed empty so I took a walk. Only it wasn't empty, the click of my heals told me the floor was tiled the white gleam wasn't absence but a light, unbearable. As my eyes adjusted I saw Greek columns and upon each column a mirror - broken. How could I have forgotten?
This was my prison.
All those years of captivity. Watching life through panes of glass that when I tried to reach out shattered to reveal broken mirrors. My anger wasted, absorbed by 1000 tiny shards, never reaching the real world, always watching. Every mirror I turned to showed just a flash of the rage that broke it.

What to do about this place? It is my own but it is not my construction. It is the prison that Grace placed upon me. A monument to my suppresion, my taj mahal. It contains a decades Rage - nothing more.
Do I tare it down in the hope that something remains of what I had before?
what if I find nothing?
Should I instead claim it as my own and remake it, build something upon those columns? but what of the rage trapped in here? A few paces was all it took to release an echo of it. If I build upon my old prison will the rage seep through like mould?
I am not that person anymore. I am more than the anger that sustained me through those years of my suppression.

Perhaps like peter I should live at the rock and hope I do not have to gaze upon this place to often. But then I shall never heal. Perhaps my early memories are elsewhere? No if they are not under my prison then they are deeper in. I must confront my rage either way.

But how? How to trespass upon this place without being over run by old emotions.

Mo

Agripan and the labyrinth.

I have danced with him before. Different steps, different way. I was born in this pit. Lying on the alter in those last seconds before destruction you see the stars. From the bottom of the labyrinth the shining of my home, my prison is like the moon. Light in the darkness.

All our lands lead here. Their darkest shadows touch the fringes, when we are so lost that depression is our only feeling we become entangled.

Did Peter watch that first time? When the panpipes led Elspeth down these marble steps black as night? Was it his cry of frustration that reverberated round the labyrinth, a boy to cowed by his own fears to help his friend. Did it grow in volume and power until it became a thing in its own right, substantial enough to stay the hands of the goat beast?

I was born screaming – this much I know- a fully formed 7 year old protesting the noose in my hands. My time awake was fleeting, as our mother burst through the door already I was fading from consciousness. But she was gone, Elspeth no longer lay upon the alter. In that shout eyes were turned upwards, to the stars, to that invisible path out of the labyrinth, if only we are brave enough to hope.

And in remembering my part in this dance I know who I am. I am not rage, that is only my particular form of madness.

I am self preservation.

And in recognising the duality of my own nature I see it in the others. Elspeth's Innocence/Fear Peter's Joy/Submission. Even Agripan has duality of sorts... the stars that shine over his labyrinth are Capricorn.

Grace is no more guilt than I am rage. The guilt is merely her madness, that emotional response to the abuse she carries.

That is why Agripan has woken.

Grace is loosing her battle with the guilt. She is perilously close to the labyrinth. If I cannot find a way to convince her of her true nature I shall be dancing with Agripan before the week is out.

Grace is compassion.

Mo.

I will stay.

I had thought perhaps I would die, fade away, so much of this past month I have been unable to front without Mo influencing. Fronting on my own has just led to waves of guilt and sorrow. To obbsesive thinking about what my SO is doing now, how much I have hurt him, how bad a wife I have been to have left, how bad a mother I have been for not preventing the abuse of my DD.

Last night I talked to DD about me maybe becoming zn insiderI can taste you. you are mine . i feel your flesh. because I didnt want to hurt anyone anymore. Mo is so much more capable than me. Even peter has been doing better at actully running the house.

DD cried said she didnt want me to go and she didnt want me to be blendy with mo anymore because it changes me. She wants her mummy.

I will stay. Even thought I feel no more substantial then mist I will stay.

For my daughter.

Grace

I just read this...... TW for whole post; rape, suicide and religon - Mo
Do you know what happens to a child that is told that for the rest of its life it must satisfy the perversions of others? That the only time their torment will cease is when they are safely burning in hell?
They start to yearn for death.
Do you know what happens to that child when they are told that such feelings are sinful. A child that has never committed a sin of their own but has endured rape after rape in the guise of redeeming the rapists from their sins?
They despair.

Do you know what a religous child in the deapths of despair does?
They read.
They read how demoaniacs and deamons cast children into fire and water, how a legion of deamons drove a heard of pigs over the clifftop to their deaths. They read how Jesus tells his diciples that such deamons can only be banished by prayer and faith.

So I am Born.

The child was not being sinful in yearning for death. She was being tempted.

And in recognising me the child can trap me. Submitting herself more and more to perverted men because they have told her it is her religeous duty.

But in seeking faith where there is only perversion her desperation increases. Her soal knows this is wrong.

Do you know what happens to a child that believes itself possesed by a deamon. A child who experiences fear and revultion when carrying out the work that her religeous elders demand is needed for the salvation of the community?

She doubts herself.

She assumes her sense of injustice and fear and revultion are wrong. She assumes that her resistance to her religeous elders are not the whisperings of self-preservation but temptations from the deamon inside her.

Then she sees in herself an inability to pray away her deamon.

She tries to cut it out "better to enter heaven with one eye than that eye should lead you to sin."

When she discovers mutilation is a sin. Sin upon sin she gives in, attempts suicide and fails, because she is a child who does not know how to go about the task.

In her recovery she sees the failure not a result of poor planing but as herself fighting her deamon and winning. And in this narative of mind the suicide was not hers was never hers it was only a temptation she was took week to fight until the last minuet.

I sit and watch this cycle of denial and oppression until I become sentient enough powerful enough to influence this sad charade.

Because I know the truth.

There is no sin in death.

Death is the ultimate solution.

I am not strong enough to take the body but I can lure a desperate soal to me.

Once in my labyrinth what i act on them they act on themselves.

Only hope can break the bond, hope that comes from finally seeing the truth.

Sometimes we can only see truth at the point of death.

So yesterday was $#%^.

After deliberatly cutting his walk short so that he could cook an early dinner and get to the new years celebration on time Peter was betrayed by Grace who popped out long enough to promise our daughter could watch an entire series of prerecorded tv.
We are still dealing with the emotional fall out from that.

It's symptomatic of what grace is, she is unable to love herself, she is unable to serve her own needs, and now that she knows she is mutliple she is extending that assumption to the rest of us. We actually had a flood in the internal world. Graces sea of guilt tried to wash everything away.

And it wasn't even feeling guilty that she had hurt peter. She still doesn't feel guilty about hurting peter. She wont say sorry. She feels we should all ignore our own needs to serve others.

I want to hit her but I know that wont solve anything.

And all this distress and dischord has let Agripan out of his labyrinth.

The only upside to this whole cock up is Christopher.

Peter was so badly hurt that last night he went back through the door. Back to that part of the mind where there is no knowlege of the outside world.

There a bad lady in there she chased me through the woods and past the rocks where the birds were nestin in teacups in the cliff face an I had to climb a realy high fence and got all tangled in barbed wire and I couldnt find our outside girl anywhere and I thought maybe the ladys minions had taken her an I saw a steel gate an I tried to climb it I snatched a crowbar an used it to help me climb an just as I got to the top the nasty lady shot me with a macheen gun an I fell over the other side but cos of the barbed wire I was danglin an then some doctor people cut me down an stopped me dyin an there was father christopher an he come back with me throught the door to the last day rock where mo an elspeth were waitin cos everywhere was flooded.

Christoper is a fictive who resembles both our faith and is a fatherly figure. His physical form is an exact duplicate of the priest in M.A.S.H. http://www.mariasmountain.net/2011/06/l ... mashs.html

Now that we have a caretaker living in our concious side I hope Peters needs can be better looked after. At least it is one more set of eyes watching agripan.

Makes me wonder about the other side. Clearly we have a prosecutor and a bunch of ... i don't know if they are self helpers or caretakers or gatekeepers... but people who patch up others so they are ?stable? ?healthy? or whatever to be able to come out to the front.

The fact that christopher has been allowed to come to the front makes me wonder if we are all free of the persecutor and only she and the medics are left behind the door. Or are we at the front becoming too unstable so they have sent one of their own forwards to help keep the system in ballence.

I want to believe the former. That there is no-one else running or hiding from our persecutor. But given the flood, given the activity of agripan I know its the later.

We have lost Mo

Or I have lost conection with inside

Which meens everyone else is stuck inside because I never learnt how to give up the driving seat I always needed a push.

Agripan got too powerful. I started hanging by the harbour and then peters depresion about the footing....

So Mo let out a yell. One powerful enough to erase everything. Our landscape, our bodies, till we were just voices floating in blank white space.

It took all night to remember our bodies.

This morning peter built the rock. Mo's watch tower...Our safe place. Alone in the white.

Mo was on top.

Christopher asked her what it cost to fight for our sanity like that. She said "everything" and that was the last I saw of her.

Today I've had no chatter, no music, no sence of presence.

It's like the others don't exist.

Music was one of the things we used to use to call each other. But when I play Mo's tunes there's no answer.

And all because I was too embarised to let peter go to the footing.

If he hadn't been depressed as well agripan wouldn't have been so powerful.

Now he is gone but Mo may be gone too.

I don't know what to do.

I don't even know how to get back inside to look for her.

I need her.

I need them all.

I don't want to be alone.

Grace

I fed up of outside bigs telling me I not needed. That all I do is play.

I DONT

If i wasnt here we be in a mess right now.

I do the cleanin an the washin of clothes an the hovrin I even learnin how to cook. I gettin our outside girl to school an I was the one what remembered that she was comin home on the school bus cos of a feild trip an went an fetched her from the bus stop.

ME I do all those things.

I doin them cos I want to be useful an I the man of the house an gracelady no good no more cos she always cryin or worryin or fealin all guilty about us runnin away which is stupid cos it was a GOOD fing to run away cos Mo's mister was a bad man an if he had a sad christmas it serves him right. He shouldnt have been hitin us an spitin on us an kickin us an stranglin us.

But outside bigs just say peter only 7 what use is he. Gracelady only 30 she NO USE at all but when she all sad an not doin nofin she never gets told off. If I playin when the social work lady comes she jus gives me a scowl an I show her all the stuff I done all ready. I playin cos I EARNT my play time. But that not good enough I could have got all the housework done an it still not good enough.

Poo to outside bigs.

The only thing I can't do what a grown up needin to do is bathin the outside girl (cos that would be rude) an shopin cos I not good at addin up stuff.

I finkin maybe I should get a job for pushin trollys. just me I get it as peter an not let gracelady or mo help me an then I ask the shop what give me a job to write a letter to all the bigs what say I no good tellin them how usefull I am an how hard I work an that they not allowed to say I should go back to my magic sleep.

It gracelady what need to go for a magic sleep. She the one that is no use. Cept when outside girl is cryin then she needin gracelady. so I not goin to tell gracelady to go to sleep cos that job is REALLY important.

Peter

So Grace has gone back to her old habits.
A couple of letters from SO and she is already oppressing us as if SO was sitting in the corner scrutinaising us.

Sheesh.

Today was ment to be a day for peter to let off steem. There were no apointments so we had 5 hours for the kid just to be himself. But oh no Grace has to steamroller in insist that the house is spotless tells peter he can have sometime tomorrow.

Today was ment to be a consolation prize for all the "tommorows" that grace had him wait for last week

It took DD begging Grace to let peter out for a play after school for her to finaly relent. By that time the poor kid had spent so much time stuck in the waiting area he wasn't strong enough to spend more than 5 minuets up front.

Then this evening I tried to come to the front to bathe DD and get some quality time with her. I even got as far as taking over the vocal chords and humming the tune I useualy only have to think in order to start a switch.

Nothing. The bitch just ignored me and kept on doing her cross stitch had the nerve to tell me I would get the body tommorrow and show me images of dressing up in an outfit we don't even own anymore.

If she thinks she can get away with that she has another thing coming.

She needs us to function.

And yet she thinks she can just suppress us, look normal and everything will be fine.

Makes me want to puke.

You cant have us do all the work and then deny us time to express ourselves.

That way lies madness.

Mo

More than me.

this past week has been a strange one. I have been striped of my animal shell and then force back into it only for maureen of all people to save me from it.
Has it always been an imposistion? My passion for music is the same but the destructive urges that ruled me in my goat form have gone.
I feel at the mercy of the others. It was Graces fear and depresion that forced me back into the animal. Had Maureen not fought her I would not have gained my human form again.

All these years Maureen and I have fought. All these decades. I to destroy this body, she to preserve it. But now I wonder were we fighting the wrong foe?

I have never before tasted the outside world and yet now I have I find the destruction I tried to wreck time and again alien.

Could it be just as my internal image was constructed by the others so to was my temperment? If I refuse to fulfill the role I was created for will another come in my place or will we finaly give up on those destructive thought paterns?

Is it even my choice? Grace after all is the main source of discontent. If she cannot be perswaded to move on to look at life free of her origanal purpose will I allways be chained to her moods?

Elspeth has found peace. Peter when he is allowed to express himself has found joy. Maureen never doubted her existance. The only one left is grace. Her depression and her insistance on repressing peter.

I do not want to become that thing again. Preying upon, no feasting upon misery. I spent so long in that labyrinth surrounded by darkness I never knew what hope even a sunbeam could bring.

I want to explore the world. I cannot do it if she shackles me once more.

Why should one part dictate the existance of all others?

I cant beleive grace was such a ######6 arse hole. Our T says we are fine we have come a long way he is happy we arnt sick any more and what does grace do go and shoot him in the bowls by saying that all his work with peter elspeth and me isnt worth anything because she isn't "better".

Just how low can you go? She basically described her self with the exact same words as when we first met T. And its all ######6 lies she is nothing like the shell of a person he met back in april. We are functioning, she doesnt have flash backs anymore. So what if the voices she wanted to get rid of have turned out to be more than just voices. Life is $#%^.

Does she think peter is over the moon to be trapped in a female adult body unable to play with his peers because he has non.

Does she think I enjoy fixing every thing she breaks and pulling her sorry arse out of messes time and again and watching my carrer go down the drain.

We were parting on such a posative note. And now its all gone sour.

Peter is inconsolable, the only outside person to have ever got to know him has been told he failed, he has failed in his job because he didn't agree to graces demand that we drag peter through memories he is not ready to process. But peter can't he isn't ready and now peter thinks it is his fault that the T is sad. his fault because if he could look at the trauma like grace wants him to then she wouldnt have told the T he was useless. It is not his fault the T was perfectly happy for us to build our lives without ever looking at trauma.

When will grace learn she is just one part, one minor part of a system that is a lot older than her.