(Note: click on photos for descriptions.)
My childhood abuse and its aftermath is not the end of the road for me. Neither is my late in life discovery of the reality that I have, for decades, lived in this world as a multiple. The disorder known as Dissociative Identity Disorder (what used to be known as Multiple Personality Disorder) is only one facet of my life.
I didn't cease to exist because of the abuse; I didn't lose the total ability to function because of the coping mechanism known as DID. (In fact, DID made my survival possible.)
I've struggled along, sometimes limping with weariness, other times nearly skipping light heartedly as I discovered little joys along the pathways of my journey toward healing.
My story is far from over. It lives in the hearts and destinies of the five sons I gave birth to and raised alone, as well as in the lives of their children. My grandkids' lives, I believe, have a much greater capacity for normalcy (wholeness) because I have chosen the road to healing and recovery, rather than the lonely road of bitterness. (I have chosen to go beyond the limiting label of "survivor" to the more glorious label of "thriver.")
Here then is a peek at what keeps me going: life, with all its peaks and valleys, passed on from one generation to another in the form of laughter, wonder and yes, even in the shadowy land known as Sorrow.
