My Name is Layla, and I have DID (a brain injury)

I have a hundred million words to say…. but my brain is too screwed up to quite the voices down to have these parts take a turn and say what needs to be said…. I am dying inside!!!!! I need to write!!!!!!! but it’s not working!!!!!!!!!! I don’t want to breath this much pain anymore!!!!!!!

This video is a total conversation within me … the one I have been having with the story teller as the story is being told and accepted…. and understanding. Really… It took a long time to make this one….

 

I wrote this last week after a session…

I thought I could type what is going on in my mind right now, but it’s hard. I feel scared.

I made a video last night, and I’m trying to find the words behind it. I don’t know if I can… but I will try.

Perhaps just sometimes the story… finds the story-teller… not the other way around.

-For me this statement has been very true. For years and years I’ve written pages and pages. There was a part of me as a child that was able to trace in the floor words as I recorded what I was experiencing hidden from them… I cried through my fingertips writing where ever my hand could reach a floor or wall to trace in, as hell was taking place… I kept the memories written… and I was able to keep that little secret from them It’s a bit odd perhaps to some

I am sure it’s hard to understand something unless one has been there or has taken the time to understand. Boy is that sure true about myself. Much time has been taken to understand what lies within the words of stacked up journals and blog entries. A subconscious writing out in a safe way… her secret way – As the words began forming I realized that these words where trying to find the one telling the story. The story is told from different perspectives – broken hearted, some are young, some uncertain of who they are and where they come from. Some live in fear and play a role to keep what they perceive to be safe… and sometimes that means doing whatever it takes.

When I was a child I thought I created this safe world… and in the world was a friend who kept me safe and blocked the pain away. A place where he knew what happened but took all the pain away. (emotional) As this story continues to unfold I am finding who has written chapters and who has illustrated the landscape to escape as well. I, abused layla, created a friend and his name was James… and now I am realizing that what I thought was so real to me then, is still very real… but in a complete different way. This is most devastating for me to even speak… for sure because I am hearing, “my goodness who cares about some imaginative friend… get over it”. It’s hard to be real, open and honest when you so scared that people you love will think your crazy.

James, my friend wrote some of our story. He was, when I, abused Layla, could no longer be. He took the hell away when the pain would become too much. And they knew that… they let her keep him and believe he was the only one who loved her. So as I search deep within the words and let the story find who is speaking… and then listen, accept and not judge… I’ve realized that was one of their greatest tools in breaking my spirit down, keeping me believing that I will be forever a part of them(the people who abused me)

James will always be a ‘part’ of me. He is a part of me. And for many years he kept me from looking down into the pain of reality… he sheltered my innocence, allowed for me to fall in love with nature and imagination. He loved me. He, who was a piece of me loved me…. so therefore I loved myself. I was protecting myself from the pain that lied beneath. I was able to be me and a friend to myself. I am the same person… just I needed to survive…. and I’m not sure if I created him and ‘they’ found out… or if they gave him to me and always knew? I don’t need to know that right now… it’s not important… I only can know as much as the words tell me and allow me to know… I only can take so much and this … this is a lot….

____________________________

Who is responsible for this girl?
Lost within a dream
Plummeting to the next obscurity
Caught within her mind that is now dreaming within a dream
Subconsciously searching for security

(Someone had to be responsible for her… she would become lost within the wall that was before her… she was in so much pain. One obscurity to the next… shattering into pieces and desperately searching anyway she could and the only way she knew how as a child’s mind when the reality of the hell on earth came into her dream… she chased another dreamer to write another story. A hidden chapter of secret codes, colors and song. All of it being tucked into her subconscious as it was her security).

The only means to escape this life-mare, obnoxious
Is for the subconscious to look for another dreamer
One to find the key to her soul that has been locked within a box
A braver dreamer
One who dares to dream deeper
And there they will search for the secret keeper
Break in and take back her name
Reveal the secrets to free her shame

(Like I said before; the only way as a child to escape the life mare was for her subconscious to find another out – to dream another dream… to keep away from the life-mare… to survive. There was a piece that has always been stubborn… a piece that wanted to be in control and find the key to her soul that they “locked in a box”. (they did) ….She was brave. She was the dreamer that dared to dream deeper… risk relationships in reality to find who she really was. But while she was so lost, she was so out of tune with the world around her… the world that was real. -The painful world and the beautiful world; the world she was born into. She thought if only she could reveal the secrets and free her shame, she would be free of all the lies… but in order to do that, she found other pages that found a story-teller that was created by evil hands to lie and coerse her into believing that the only way to keep the little girl safe, the one stuck within that box, was to do whatever it took to do so – lie, cheat, be in control, believe untruths. It was a trick… so I am realizing… and really trying for all of me to understand that.

Projections of her subconscious
creates a space to search for the rules
Rules that have cast spells for their main tool
To leave her hushed with faith unconscious
The feelings she carry are more intense
than this visual before her frame
From ones her attacked in ways so cruel
…And now, to save her name
She must play this game

(They liked this creative little girl who could be so easily pulled into dreams. In her subconscious they placed a set of rules. Those rules held power over her… and they used it as their main tool. Those rules kept her hushed. She feared those rules more than the lingering faces that flash in her mind… from ones that attacked her shell in ways so cruel. That brave dreamer… she still wants to save her name…. and she thinks that in doing that she must play their game.

Who is responsible for this girl)?

Searching for her true identity
All these imposters, her name they borrow
Yes, to get her through the sorrow
The screams
The expectations
And dreams
Of the yesterdays and tomorrows

(This brave dreamer searches among the broken pieces of the abused girl (me)… searching for her true identity… searching with in her mind of imposters as they borrow her name and make it look very real that it could be her. She would come to find that this story was also written not by her own hands but too, written by ones who stole pages from her life and tried placing them within her book…. … that story-teller has been placed to do a job, and only an impostor trying to convince her to obey the rules to the game)

The new dreamer searches for this key
Hidden between the forged names
Buried amongst books
Books that created a library of a life filled with alters from all ages
Her life wages
within the dream as it enrages

(This dreamer became very tired and weak. She just could not do it anymore… So a new dreamer searched for the key… It seemed impossible… so many pages… a library of a life filled with impostors created and broken emotions from all ages. This dream was a mess. She can’t do this any more. The ones responsible for this girl has left her alone…. creating other to be responsible for another and so on).

Who is responsible for this girl?
Does she dare bring the subjects of evil into rem
Let their thoughts stem
as they sprout their secrets
to pave the way in finding her gems?
Steal them back from the ones who condemn!

(So now she fights strong again with courage… she thinks if she brings them into rem… let their thoughts stem they would share their secrets and she could find her way; her way back to find her name).

However
though it may be able
Seeds that plant into the mind
changes everything.
Dreams within dreams are too unstable
A comeback she may not be prepared to bring
The possibilities of their sting

(When you play with fire… you are bound to get burnt and those wounds are hard to heal. It is never wise to walk into places that are unstable. Especially when you are not prepared. Now….)

She is no longer just words in the book
But now thoughts that are shared
Here lays the new hook
No, it’s not fair
The dream is collapsing
They found her scared
Now impaired
Relapsing
Tempting to do what’s been declared

Who is responsible for this girl?

It is not fair… but as she allowed other dreamers to lay paths to find the way they found her scared… and when they knew she was weak… they tempted her to do what they declared.

Is she dead
Or just lost within her head
Dreaming of dreaming
And in the dream dreaming again
Trapped

Where is the ‘kick’ to jolt her back?
Dreamer number two,
fall within another dream
They are invading her thoughts
Quick switch
Don’t get caught
Hurry, find her name

Constructing a dream from your memory
Is the easiest way to lose your grasp on
What is real and what is the dream

Welcome to limbo
Where her name is buried
and reality and dreams are married
Searching for the key to uncover her name
The name that is stuck with in this dream
Accumulating toxic shame

Who is responsible for this girl?

I am. I am the one now responsible to pull her from the depths of these current dreams
Those dreams collided with the reality of childhoods pain and fears now extreme
It is I, who hold the forbidden responsibility
To find her (no not her… my)
To find my name.

My life existed because we all dreamed
She could not have lived without leaving that life mare extreme
The pain was too horrific for a child to endure.
We dreamed… and at times they interjected into her dreams and lied to her

(They gave her a friend to love… a friend to love her… and when she was 14… those evil people made her choose between the only one she knew that protected her and loved her or choose between an awful reality that is one of the most awful things a human could be faced with . And how could she choose between such… and yet we did. We just did. and then I turned around as they played cruel games and told me, I was now one of them and forever I will live in shame… and took him, James, away… in ways too cruel to ever express…. they just did. They killed a piece inside of me that loved. And she’s been searching ever since).

She dreams no more

It’s in the pages
It’s in the words

Search with me
And perhaps you or I will find who is telling the story

She’s been bleeding a long time
suffering in poetry and prose

The dreamer will dream no more
The pen has been laid to rest

It’s already been said

She wants to go home… she needs to come back to life…. and all of those pieces… lies are all they know to keep them safe….

A conversation to my pieces in my brain….