Love and Betrayal

Yesterday, well, first, let me say this:  I have been sick.  As of Wednesday, November 20, 2016, I have been sick for two MONTHS.  Yes, acute/chronic bronchitis.  So, I am finally on the mend.  However, Friday night, I had a night terror/flashback dream.

There I was, 6 years old, hands locked in vice grips, duct taped for extra measure, legs duct taped down, nude, sitting on a plywood board. Mr. Roach manning a circular saw ripping the wood, towards my crotch.  My mouth had been duct taped, so I could barely breath.  I mean, who is going to hear a little girl’s screams over ripping wood in half with a Sears circular saw?  So, my parts and I have been up every night since.  From 10/11 pm to 4/5 am, we patrol.  I tell them we’re safe.  It’s 2016.  No matter.

I had about 12/13 main alters, all with systems of their own.  Yes, each parts had parts, in fact, a whole system with parts, parts of parts and poly fragments of their own. I am now down to Mark’s system, Phylis’ system and my system.  All told?  About ten parts left.  Not bad. From about 80-90 to about ten in 8 years time.  New therapist is working out great, by the way.  Ought to be on the mend here in about a year and a half.  I am about to undergo some of the roughest, toughest stuff- the torture bits now.  I hope I will be able to sleep sometimes this winter.  August through May is the worst.  Was the school year.  My parents were teaching school, and I was left with the monsters.  And school itself was no picnic for me.  My childhood could have been much worse.  God gave me just enough reprieves and supports to keep me somewhat moored in sanity.  And above ground.

So, yesterday, Casino Royale, the 007 movie was on Showtime or some such. Yes, I finally got cable.  Waited till after the presidential shit show to do so.  So, Casino Royale is Ian Fleming’s first Bond novel.  Craig’s Bond.  The tormented, orphaned, eros/thanatos driven, just this side of a martyr psychopath, lovable cad.  The Bond I would find irresistible.  Love tormented souls…more about that later.  So, Vesper Lind.  Bond’s true love.  The one and only woman he choose over his Queen, Country, and M.  The true love, who ultimately betrays him.  As most true loves do.  Or, so I have learned.  The true love, who barters her soul for his.  The true love, who he tries desperately, in an underwater rescue to save, as she willingly commits suicide in front of him.  Rather than never to be with him again.  But to Bond, as, to me, it wouldn’t have mattered.  But it does.  It does indeed.

I learned yesterday, the reason I have been stubbornly, and just plain unmovable in my root chakra- the safety chakra. The, “I am” chakra.  The opposite of fear chakra.  Why have I been enmeshed in this chakra?  The answer- on the surface is easy- my childhood torture/trauma.  Most people who have gone through what, miraculously, I lived through to tell the story of, would be non verbal and smearing poo on a wall in a state institution somewhere.  But I?  And this is where the HP of my understanding is a sort of Marine:  he brought me to it and led me through it.  I lived.  Through my childhood.  Through hundreds of Near Death experiences, to today.  Yesterday.  As I sat, in a tense, heart foreshadowed grief, knowing full well that Vesper commits suicide in front of Bond, blindly cheering him on to save the love, the betrayal of his life.

You see, Bond knows full well she has betrayed him.  Then, as Bond, underwater, with Vesper in an ancient, elevator shaft, locked in, Bond fiercely trying to pry open the jaws of the shaft- a moment so pure, she looks at him with shame, grief filled eyes and rips the key- the key that could save her life and their relationship, nay, their future together- out of the lock and throws it into the current of the sinking shaft.  Knowing full well, that she just locked herself in, sealed her fate, and his, Bond tries harder to open the shaft.  Vesper retreats to the rear of the shaft, reaches out her left (love) hand, and swallows water, thereby killing herself in front of Bond.

By this time, having watched this scene three times, I am gasping and sobbing, not just for Bond, but for me.  Why?  We all have secrets.  Mine are wrapped in betrayal as well.  Some public, some very private.  But, my epiphany is this:  To me, Betrayal and Love are inseparable.   You cannot have one without the other.  They are one in the same.  Betrayal, love.   Love, betrayal.  I can no longer tell the difference.

Hold, please…

I have been both a Vesper and a Bond.  In more than one love relationship, in order for my partner to live, to succeed, to be happy or to be punished, I have had to make decisions, decisions most people only read about or see on tv.  I have never expected anyone to understand my life.  When I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, that is when Dave left me, while I was still in the hospital, for his other meth sex slave.  I naively thought Dave would be with me, to help me through this, this monumental task of piecing me back together again when I was released.  He did get me to the hospital August 15, 2008 after an all day drinking binge, and a Valium pig out.  They shot me with Narcan, pulled the curtain and que sera sera.  So, he saved my life.  It wasn’t until October 18, 2008, I found he had given me HIV on June 6, 2008.  He had already  taken my life.  Why save it?  Only to leave me for another?  And another?  And another?  And another?  Love makes you blind.  Low self esteem makes you desperate.  Combine the two, and it is a living hell.  Hence why I understand why Bond, who loved Vesper more than his duty, tried to save her.  That was Bond.

Vesper came first.  Before all others.  It was sweet.  Innocent.  Friendly.  A mentorship.  If you read the book, Love, by Toni Morrison, it shatters your preconceived notions as to what love is…or can be…or should be.  Even when I was very young, I had only one memory of The Roaches.  It was the son, Ron, trying to get me to do something I didn’t want to do, what else is new, story as old as time.  But, this one September afternoon, I hit the ground running.  Threw up by the huge tree by 5 Crawford (which is now gone) and ran home and never, ever looked back.  Up until the year 2000, when I was 27, I’m 43 now.  Almost half my life has been tirelessly devoted to unearthing my past.  But, I only had the one memory.  They never came after me.  They let me live.  They “Had destroyed” me, “So I could never turn on them ever” again.  So, in 1989, when I met, my first soul mate?  Best Friend?  First Love?  No.  So far, the closest thing to a true love I have ever had…I told him about Ron.  But I knew.  I knew there was more.  I knew it was far worse; much worse than he or I could ever concoct together.  And we were very creative.  We were.  But, I knew.  I pulled a Vesper to his Daniel Craig/Ian Fleming Bond.  I pushed him away so hard, so fast, so furiously, because he wanted a beautiful, wonderful, exciting, rich life.  I could not, nor could I ever give that to him.  The decision I made at 15, at 16, at 19, at 29 to leave No Doubt in his mind that I did not want him, was, at 31, successful.  He has a rich, wonderful, exciting and full life.  I knew he could.  I knew I was a liability.  I knew my past would tear us apart.  So, Vesper I became.

Now?  I look at Facebook.  I see my friends and their husbands.  Their children.  Their jobs. Their side hustles.  Their Emmy successes.  And I smile. Because it brings me great joy that at one point, they helped me in my life, by merely acknowledging my existence.  Because those relationships, those moldy oldie relationships, their successes, their heartbreaks, their families, their careers, their travels, they give me hope.  All 323 of them.  Some are cops, none are, currently, myself included, criminals.  Some are God Fearing, some are Wiccan.  All are loving.  All are caring.  All are gentle souls.

Some people go to church or temple on Sunday.  I begin the unravelling process; the untying of love and betrayal.  I am proud, and honored, and humble to say I have loved and been loved just as fiercely in return.  I have betrayed, and been betrayed viciously in return as well.

Now, I must begin the unravelling of the Algerian Love Knot in my soul.  The separation of Bond and Vesper.  I never want to be Vesper again.  I never want to be Bond again.  I want to love again.  And be loved more in return.

Have a blessed day.



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