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A Dissociative Honeymoon

Good Friday we set off on M’s 1976 Harley Davidson Shovelhead on the start of our honeymoon. The Harley is a beautiful bike to ride and the experience thus far has been completely liberating and freeing. To begin, we arrived in a small rural part of Victoria, the town where my mother was born and we used to visit my Nanna. My Nanna died when I was young, though we had moved to another state before this time anyhow and so I only knew her for about seven years. I remember the house being very large and I remember seeing my Nanna naked in the bathroom. Her skin was all wrinkled and her boobs were hanging down really long and low. She looked old and skinny. I was shocked to see a body like this, her like this. I never really thought much of the house or town, until the abuse memories came in my mid 20s. I was desperate to get to the bottom of everything, determined to find out what happened, deal with it and move on. Not quite so simple. Complete amnesia, coupled by paralysing fear when getting even close to processing memories, that in many ways was beyond my control, forced me to realise that my fierce want to remember meant smashing the denial and coming to grips with the unbelievable… and I am not even half way there. When I started trying to piece together my past, I thought of my Nanna’s place and I just didn’t feel good. I suspected something happened there, but I really didn’t know. One night, about a year ago, I had a bad dream that my father was at the door of the bedroom my sister and I were sleeping in at Nanna’s house and he was going to have sex with us. Then I woke up, freaked out and my little parts came up. I haven’t been back to the town since I was a kid and so when we arrived there I was partly excited to see the area, but also started feeling very strange, irritable and moody. We checked in to a motel and my parts came up as soon as we settled in to the room. My little part said to M that she felt sad and then just wanted to be looked after. We ordered pizza and watched an animal show on TV. Then my little part asked M if he would be her Uncle. You see, I had read a blog earlier that day about a husband who calls the parts of his dissociative wife his ‘girls’ and I thought it was very sweet. I know my parts were very impressed with how nice this man seemed and they hoped that M would do the same. Problem is, I didn’t really know this and didn’t actually tell M about the blog so asking him if I could call him ‘Uncle’ on our first honeymoon night was a little strange, to say the least. M thought it was really weird and refused to do this (thinking it was some sort of strange kinky incest thing… okay that’s a mind read, he knew my parts were out, but he was kinda hoping we could be adults on our honeymoon (you know, get sexy and all that) and this whole thing was spoiling his plans! Anyhow, my little part got really upset with him that he wouldn’t say yes and ignored him for the rest of the night. She felt she couldn’t trust him anymore and it just turned horribly wrong. The next morning, i was able to explain a bit (about reading the blog and stuff) and M changed his mind and said he would be happy if she called him Uncle, but that he took the role very seriously and that meant she would have to listen to him and that he was the adult etc etc. The little part was listening but hasn’t come out since.

I came back to normal later that day after we had left the town (purely evil I thought on reflection… but again, no memories so who knows). A few days later we arrived in South Australia and another part came out and told M she thought he had raped her the night before (which is so not true) and that she didn’t like him. We happened to be having a bath at the time and he handled it very well and told her it wasn’t true and that he would never do that. She said she was 12 (but I actually think she was 10), and M said that she shouldn’t know words like that and that good adults don’t do things like that.

This part only came out for a bit, seemed satisfied with his answer, but didn’t really want to talk much. The rest of the trip has been fairly normal, but this feels like a very strange honeymoon I guess!

All in all, I am having a real lovey dovey time with the hubby and can’t believe I am married. It is a wonderful feeling. Underneath it all, i think he is sure to find out how hideously disgusting and horrid I really am, but he doesn’t seem to notice my ugliness. He constantly says that I am beautiful. I feel really raw and yuk though deep inside, but I would never ever tell him this.

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